Hugo & Rose (18 page)

“But
why
are we trying to get to there?!”

Hugo shrugged and sat next to her. “Because … I don't know. Because it's important. Because everyone's there.”

“But why are they there? Why have we been doing the same thing, over and over again for years? I just want to know why. Why do we do what we do? Why this? Why us?”

He smiled, gentle. “Because you're my Rosie. And I'm your Hugo.”

“That's not the reason.”

“It's my reason.”

Rose turned to look at him. His face was inches from hers. He was looking at her, taking in every detail of her face.

And then he leaned in to kiss her.

The skin of his lips was soft and warm, pressed gently against her mouth. His eyes closed, naked to the sensation. Rose breathed in the salted caramel scent of him.

And surrendered to it.

*   *   *

The kiss haunted Rose.

It
was
something new.

But unlike the shield on Castle City, the shifting location of the Spiders, or even seeing another human on the island … the kiss had provoked something Rose had never experienced in a dream.

Lust.

Rose shook her head to think of it … but that's what it was.

Lust.

That blooming warm sensation five inches below her navel. The ache in her breasts, the spread of heat across the back of her neck.

Of course she had felt it before. With Josh and earlier boyfriends, that sudden urge to jump on top of them. To put her mouth on them, anywhere, everywhere. To consume them.

But, Rose would be the first to admit, it had been a while.

Goodness, it had been a long, long time.

The night they conceived Adam. Soaked in tequila. Isaac with her parents for the weekend, so they could attend a friend's wedding.

Rose had pushed Josh onto the hotel room bed, yanking on his trousers, hiking up the hem of her cocktail dress. They should have just undressed, their clothes were a mess by the time they got back to the reception, but Rose could not have waited. She wanted the feeling of Josh inside her, his mouth on her nipple, his eyes full of her.

That was what she had felt when Hugo kissed her.

The beginning of that dangerous, wonderful feeling of
need
.

That
was
something new.

But it was just a kiss.

 

twelve

It took Rose days to get ready for the party.

We should have just booked a place,
she thought, dusting the baseboards.
Then I wouldn't have to clean.

In addition to the shopping and the wrapping, the calling of mothers of those children with allergies, the tracking down of those who had not yet RSVP'd, the assembling of gift bags and the ordering of cakes, there was the
cleaning
.

When Rose complained of this task to Josh, he rolled his eyes.

“The house looks fine.”

And indeed, to him, it did. Rose kept a neat house, but it was not in her eyes
clean …
or at least not
clean enough to be seen
.

While Josh thought of Isaac's party as a gathering of boys, Isaac's friends from school and soccer, Rose saw it as an invitation to judgment by the larger counterparts who would accompany them.

Namely their mothers.

Mothers whose eyes would look past the balloons and the streamers and see the dark spots on the carpet, the dust behind the television, and the crumbs by the toe kicks. Mothers who would notice the weeds on the beds next to the house and the cobwebs on the stucco.

So she dusted. And mopped. And weeded. She power-washed the garage door. Took a broom to the sides of the house.

She even deep-cleaned the rooms no one would have any business visiting. The bedrooms got a thorough going-over, because even though the party would be held downstairs and in the backyard, one never knew.

But still there were things she could do nothing about. The stubborn stain on the couch. The dry patch in the backyard.

Isaac had invited Simon from his soccer team, which meant that his mother would be coming.
What's-her-name, with the boobs and the judgy look.

Rose hated the thought that
she
would be here, seeing the inside of her house. Feeling sorry for her when she saw the dry patch (
Oh, poor Rose, can't afford new sod)
or the stain (
Well, of course it's stained; Rose can barely keep up
).

But …
Kaitlin, that was her name
 … was just one of the invading horde. Rose felt vulnerable to all of them.

But Zackie invited who Zackie wanted. And he was a popular boy.

So Rose cleaned and hoped they would be able to put the bounce house over the dry patch. She bought a pair of throw pillows to hide the stain.

There was, of course, another person Rose thought of while she cleaned.

Hugo.

He would be coming, too. She thought of how he would see the details of her life: the family portraits on the wall, the granite countertops, the row of little hooks holding the children's jackets and backpacks.

This, too, was uncomfortable, in its way. But a less formed feeling than being seen by Isaac's friends' parents. It made her unsettled to think of
him
here among her things, in the same room with her children and Josh … but those uncomfortable feelings were mired in the warm syrup of her other emotions.

Several times she caught herself thinking of the kiss … but each time she shook it off. No time for such nonsense with a party to plan.

*   *   *

Josh disappeared the morning of the event. Rose had been planning on his being there to sign for the deliveries and supervise the inflating of the bounce house. But when she called for him to answer the doorbell, he didn't reply and she had had to do it herself, which put her behind schedule on getting the fruit cut for the trays.

As the deliverymen were backing away, Josh pulled into the drive, his face apologetic. “Sorry, sorry, that took longer than I thought it would.”

Rose was tense. She didn't even want to know where he had been, she just wanted him to “keep the kids out of my hair.”

Josh kissed her forehead and headed inside, eager to be with the children, happy. “You're such a good mom.”

Somehow everything got done. Rose was tying balloons to the door when the first car pulled up. She smiled and waved at the mother behind the wheel. “Hi, guys! We're so glad you're here!”

*   *   *

Adam was very interested in the cake.

He had seen it yesterday when they got home from school. A long white box on the counter, smelling of sugar and vanilla.

Mom had let them look at it as she moved things around in the fridge to make room.

“It says, ‘Happy Birthday, Isaac,'” said Zackie, but Adam didn't need him to read it to him. He could read it very well himself, thank you very much.

It had Spider-Man and Darth Vader and Pokémon on it. Isaac had insisted that he wanted a cake with all three, even though Mom had said it might be a little confusing. Zackie said he didn't care. Adam remembered that Isaac had told him Pokémon wasn't cool anymore … but he guessed his brother had changed his mind about that.

Adam told his mom that he wanted a picture of Hugo on his birthday cake.

She had given him a funny look for a moment and then ruffled his hair. “You don't know what Hugo looks like, honey.”

“Yeah, I do,” he'd insisted. “He looks like Han Solo and Indiana Jones.”

Mom had laughed. “Harrison Ford?”

Adam had no idea who that was, but he'd nodded anyway. Whoever
Harry's Son Ford
was, he must look like Hugo.

Mom had pulled the cake out again this morning, carefully taking it from the box and setting it on the end of the counter, next to a pile of small paper plates and plastic forks.

“No touching, Addy,” she'd reminded him.

It was hard. It smelled so good, even better now that it was warming up. But Adam was a good boy and he listened to Mommy. He visited the cake several times before the party started, resting his nose on the countertop, studying the spray of the sugar paint on its surface, the pattern of tiny waves made by the piping on the edge.

Dad had let all three of them jump around in the bouncy before everybody got there. Isaac and Adam had wrestled, throwing themselves at each other, landing and rolling around the quilt of inflated vinyl. Penny had laughed at them, throwing her tiny body on top of their pile.

But as soon as his friends had arrived, Zackie wanted no more to do with him. He ran off with the bigger boys he saw at school and told Adam to play with Penny. “We don't want to play with babies,” he said when Addy tried to keep up with them.

The pile of presents on the little table Mom had set up grew larger and larger. Adam wondered if Zackie would share. Probably not.

Dad was busy watching Penny and talking to the other parents. Mom was busy picking up plates and cleaning up, her mouth a thin line in her face.

So Adam went back to visit the cake.

But somebody was already there, looking at it.

A man in a blue jacket. Shorter than Dad. A little fatter, too.

Adam labeled him a “daddy,” as he did with all men of a certain age.

“Don't touch it,” he warned the man.

The man looked over at Adam. Surprised.

“Not even to taste the frosting.” Adam wanted to be sure the man knew the rules.

“I won't,” he said, and smiled. But the man was looking at the cake again. Maybe the man thought
he
didn't have to obey the rules. Grown-ups sometimes thought they didn't have to. “You can't even do it if you think they won't know. 'Cause my brother will know.”

Adam nodded at Isaac in the backyard. His brother had put on a paper crown and was leading his friends back into the bounce house.

“You're Adam?”

The man knew his name. Adam furrowed his eyebrows at him. Suddenly he realized that even though this man was a “daddy” he was also a “stranger.” He'd been talking to a stranger. A stranger who knew his name.

The stranger pulled something from his pocket.

“I brought something for you … I didn't wrap it, 'cause it's not your birthday.”

He held out a small, shiny compass. The red arrow wobbled in its center, trying to find north.

Suddenly Adam was not so wary. “Cool!” he said, snatching it from the man's hand. He couldn't wait to show it to Isaac. At least now he'd have something he wouldn't have to share. Something Zackie might be willing to trade for access to his new toys for a little while.

He bolted for the door.

“Adam!” he heard his father. “What do you tell the nice man?”

“Thanks!” he said, barely turning back to answer. He needed to find Zackie.

*   *   *

Josh had watched Adam's interaction from a distance—appreciating the calm, direct way his youngest son addressed the man by the cake.

Goodness, Adam was different from Isaac. Isaac would have ignored the man or run away. But Addy had had a whole conversation with him, forgetting his manners only when he had been given a gift.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Josh said, walking toward the man after Adam disappeared into the backyard. “It can be tough to see your big brother get all the presents. I'm Josh. Isaac's dad.”

The man took his hand, shook it. “David.”

Josh loved meeting other fathers. It made him feel he was meeting a fellow brother in the fraternity of parenthood. He looked out on the backyard, trying to find the smaller version of the man next to him. “Which one's yours?”

“Uh—”

“You're here!” Rose was at the door, both hands full of dirty paper plates. Her eyes were a little too bright, smile a little too wide. She was tense, he could tell; Rose hated parties.

“Honey, you know David?”

Josh saw a brief
something
pass between David and his wife. A pulse of some kind.

And then Rose was talking, quickly. “We went to elementary school together. I ran into him in the grocery store. He just moved here and doesn't know anybody.” She set the plates down and stood next to Josh, wrapping an arm around his waist.

An old flame
, he mused.
Worried I'll be jealous. I'll have to tease her about it later.
He squeezed her shoulders, playful. “Well, he knows you!”

David hadn't said anything yet. Just goggled at the two of them. He must be one of those socially awkward types.

“I thought it might be nice for him to meet some people. So I invited him to the party.”

His wife, adopter of strays. “David, you should come to dinner. Can we do that, Rosie?”

Rose nodded. “Of course we can.”

Josh gave David a broad smile. “It's a date, then.”

*   *   *

Rose had stayed with Josh and Hugo as long as possible. She was worried that Josh would start quizzing Hugo before she had caught him up on the lies she needed him to tell.

But she needn't have worried. The sound of Adam and Isaac fighting in the bounce house had rung out over the party, and both she and Josh had excused themselves quickly from Hugo's side. They had found the boys on top of each other, their little foreheads sweaty. Adam was trying to pry a small round something out of Isaac's hand.

“Give it back to me! It's mine!” he cried, clawing at his brother.

Rose could tell by the look on Isaac's face as he twisted from him that Adam was telling the truth. Whatever it was in his hand, Zackie's face had that mean, greedy cast it got when he was up to no good.

Rose hated birthdays.

“You take care of this,” she said to Josh. She didn't want to yell at Isaac on his birthday. Didn't want to be convinced she was raising a bully.