Birthright

sort of . . . we’re trying to . . . I don’t know,” she repeated, and reached for her shirt. “It’s complicated.”
    “Well, you’re complicated people. That’s why it was so interesting watching it the first time around. Like being witness to a nuclear reaction. This time it’s more like watching a slow-burning fire, and not being entirely sure if it’s just going to keep smoldering or burst into active flame at any given moment. I always liked seeing you together.”
    “Why?”
    Rosie gave a quick, musical laugh. “Coupla sleek, handsome animals stalking around, not sure if they should rip each other to shreds or mate.”
    She took the moisturizer, slathered it on her face. “You’re full of analogies.”
    “I’ve got a romantic nature. I like seeing the two of you, always did. Right now that man just wants to cuddle you up, but he doesn’t know how. And he’s smart enough to be cautious because if he cuddles the wrong way you’ll peel the skin off his bones. That right there’s a conundrum forhim. Because your temperamental nature’s just one of the things he loves about you.”
    Slowly, Callie unwound the towel, picked up her comb. “I like being sure of things.” She tapped the comb on her palm before running it through her wet hair. “I was never sure he loved me. I thought he cheated on me. Veronica Weeks.”
    “Shit, she drew a bead on him from day one—and as much because she was jealous of you as because your man’s one sexy hunk. She wanted to cause trouble for you. Hated your guts.”
    Callie combed her hair back from her face. “Mission accomplished.” Then she lowered the comb. “How come you knew that, and I didn’t?”
    “Because it was in your face, sweetie pie. And I was just an observer. But I don’t think he ever dipped a toe into that pool, Cal. She wasn’t his type.”
    “Get out. Tall, built, available. Why wasn’t she his type?”
    “Because she wasn’t you.”
    On a long breath, Callie studied her own face in the mirror. Objectively, honestly. “I’m okay to look at. If I take the time to fiddle around, I can be pretty damn attractive. But that’s the limit. Veronica was beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.”
    “Where’d you pick up the insecurity complex?”
    “It came with the package when I fell in love with him. You know his rep, you know how he’s always touching women, flirting with them.”
    “The touching and flirting’s just one of the ways he communicates. The rep was before you. And all of that,” Rosie continued, “is part of what you fell for.”
    “Yeah.” Disgusted with herself, Callie dragged the comb through her hair again. “What I fell for, then immediately started trying to change. Stupid. I just couldn’t believe he wouldn’t jump on other women. Especially Veronica Weeks and her obvious invitation— especially when I found her underwear under our bed.”
    “Oh.” Rosie drew the word out into three syllables.
    “She set me up, and I fell for it.” She threw the comb in the sink. “I hate that. I fell for it because I didn’t believe he loved me, at least not enough. So I pushed, and kept pushing, and when I couldn’t get an answer to either question, I pushed him right out the door.”
    “Now you’ve let him back in. Wouldn’t hurt to let yourself enjoy that part.” Rosie stepped up to the sink, met Callie’s eyes in the mirror over it. “Did he cheat on you, Cal?”
    “No. He screwed up in other areas, but he never cheated on me.”
    “Okay. Any screwups on your part?”
    Callie hissed out a breath. “Plenty.”
    “All right. Now listen to wise Aunt Rosie. If my life was in this kind of flux, I’d appreciate having a big, strong man willing to stand behind, beside or in front of me. In fact, I appreciate having a big, strong man about any time at all. But that’s just me.”
    Callie tipped her head until it bumped lightly against Rosie’s. “Why aren’t you married and raising babies?”
    “Honey, there are so many big, strong men out there. Who can pick just one?” She patted Callie’s shoulder. “I’ve got some herbal pads that’ll work wonders on those duffel bags under your eyes. I’ll get you a couple. You slap them on, stretch out for a half hour.”
    S he felt pretty foolish lying down on top of her sleeping bag with pads that smelled like freshly cut cucumber covering her lids. And she imagined she looked like a blond version of Little Orphan Annie.
    But they felt good. Cool