Rosalie had to leave Monaco, after having her heartbroken and her youth taken by an unplanned baby, the city felt too small.
Years later, Rosalie is back with a content attitude and a childish four year old. She finally shows back up to a formula on...
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For the fifth time, I wipe my sweaty palms against the smooth comfortable material of my white sundress. I know I'm early, but I still anxiously look around the small cafe with anticipation.
I don't know why I agreed.
I should just leave, this is gonna only end in one way and it's gonna break me.
I fidget in the brown wicker chair restlessly. I didn't get much sleep last night and Charles not being here is only adding to my uneasiness.
"Im gonna go" I mutter under my breath and stand up ready to run for hills until my name gets called.
My heart feels as if it's just stopped inside my chest as I turn to see Charles walking over towards me. A small and unsure smile pulling at his lips.
My throat goes dry and my body freezes. I struggle to say anything as he comes up to stand in front of me.
"I didn't think you'd show" I take his comment with a grain of salt. I mean I did practically run from him after the race.
"I figured it was time" I say after swallowing back the dryness that leaves my throat aching.
He smiles wider at that before motioning to the chairs, "we sit?"
I nod and sit back down in the chair. I don't think he notices I was about to leave, or if he does he doesn't say anything about it.
"So, have you eaten here before?" I want to cringe at the awkward air around us. I can feel his eyes on my as I halfheartedly read the menu, I don't think I could really stomach anything anyway.
"Uh no, I don't think I have" he finally says after clearing his throat and grabbing the other menu from the wooden basket on the table.
"Cool I think imma get something light" I say quickly, still avoid his piercing green eyes.
"Rosa.." he starts but because I don't like the way he says my name, like he's about to say something important, I cut him off.
"Maybe a salad" i breath out. If avoid eye contact was an Olympic sport, I'd be handed the world championship trophy right now.
"Rosie can we talk about us?" He ask. My stomach churns at the nickname.
I close my eyes and look down to my lap.
"Why?" My voice is barley about a whisper, so I swallow and ask again. Louder than than first time, but not by much.
"Because I hate the way we left things" he says. I take a sip of the glass of water a waiter placed when I first got here.
"I didn't leave anything" I say lowly after taking a long sip that doesn't seem to help my dry throat in the slightest.
