Rooted (Pagano Family #3)(32)
“I know. That’s because you are determined to make it all SUCK!” Rosa yanked her arm, and Carmen let her go.
“Listen to yourself, Rosa Teresa. Do you sound like a college graduate right now?”
“Fuck you, Carm.”
“That’s great debating style there, precious. Quite the rebuttal. That’ll get you right to the floor of the Senate, that will.” Since she was little, Rosa had wanted to be in Congress. How that ambition fit in the heart of this frivolous girl, Carmen would never understand, but there it was.
“Why are you constantly riding me? What is it you want from me?”
They were standing on the sidewalk, shouting at each other in vintage Pagano style. People were staring. Carmen didn’t give a rat fart. “I want you to grow up! I want you to be the woman I know you can be! I want you to see that your life is bigger than clothes and bars and boys! I want you to have what you want!”
“Why do you care? Since when do you care? Nobody gives a crap what I do! You don’t even know what I want! Maybe I want clothes and bars and boys!”
A woman in a dark uniform, wearing a cap with a checkered band—a cop—stepped up to them. “Excuse me. Is everything all right here?”
Carmen took a step back and cleared her throat. “Yes, officer. Sorry. We’re sisters. Just having a sister thing.” Rosa scoffed loudly at that, and the officer turned to her.
“Miss?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. Sorry.” In full pout, Rosa crossed her arms over her chest. Ooh, Carmen wanted to slap that girl. But the inside of a London police precinct was not actually on her itinerary.
The cop nodded. “Right. Well, let’s take the ‘sister thing’ off the street, shall we?”
“Sure.” Carmen turned to Rosa and smiled tightly. “Shall we get some dinner?”
“It’s like four-thirty. I think that’s called tea.”
Maybe Carmen could get a slap in later.
oOo
They found a little fish and chips place, which was barely more than a kiosk. When they had their order, they sat at a table on the sidewalk. Rosa ate sullenly, and Carmen, feeling calmer, thought about that fight.
“What do you want, Rosie?”
“You don’t care.”
“I do. That’s why I’m asking.”
Rosa glared at her, chewing slowly. When she finally swallowed, she said, “Right now, I want Eli.”
Carmen took a breath and tried to answer calmly. “Do you understand why the words ‘right now’ worry me?”
“I don’t understand where you get off worrying. It’s my life.”
Because she’d had part in raising her. Because she loved her. “Sissy. Come on. What is going on?”
Rosa sighed, wiped her hands on a paper napkin, and got her phone out. Carmen felt an urge to reach across and yank that pink, blingy thing right out of her hands. She watched as Rosa scrolled and tapped. Then she put the phone on the table and pushed it across. “There.”
It was her text thread with Eli. Carmen picked the phone up. “How much can I read?”
She shrugged. “As much as you want. We don’t sext or whatever. I’m not an idiot.”
A lot of it was chitchat. Carmen scrolled, scanning but not reading too closely, feeling like she was reading Rosa’s diary, and guilty about it whether she had permission or not. Then she came upon an exchange from a few days ago—that last night in Devon:
E (at the end of some blather about a joke Rosa had made): Love that about you. Just love you Rhody.
R: ??
E: sorry
R: ok what??
Carmen stopped and looked up. Rose was watching her, looking as if she was waiting for Carmen to reach the punch line. “I don’t understand.”
“Me, either. Read on.”
The next text was from the following day—during the day, while they’d been watching the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. Carmen had pitched a fit about the phone then, too.
E: That was stupid. Sorry.
And then nothing until that night—last night, when they were in their hotel.
R: Sorry. Carm’s a beeYATCH and wouldn’t let me use my phone. We need to talk.
E: When you’re back.
There were no more messages in the thread. “No grownups say bee-yatch, Rosie.” It was all she could think of while she was working out what she’d just read.
“That’s what you take away? God, Carmen. And you wonder why I don’t want to talk to you.”
“No, sorry. I just feel like I’m reading a book with pages torn out. Are you two that serious?”
“I don’t know! I didn’t think so. I just wanted a Paris romance. A fling, or whatever. He lives in Maine! Usually it’s me that gets all invested and hopeful and then gets dumped.”
“Are you dumping him?”
“No! I…I don’t know. I really like him. Really. But I’ve been good this time. I’ve been careful not to get all swept up and stupid like I usually do. And now I’m wicked freaked because he feels things I made sure I wouldn’t feel. I don’t know! I mean, how would we even work?”
Jesus. Rosa was saying things not wildly dissimilar to her thoughts about her and Theo, though she was sure Theo wasn’t wrapped up the way it seemed Eli was. She closed her eyes and took a breath. But Rosa and Eli were different from her and Theo. Rosa was young. So was Eli. They didn’t have history and baggage like she and Theo had. They had time to take risks and make dumb mistakes and correct them later. They had once-in-a-lifetime feelings to spare. To share.