At Rosie's request, dinner was Chinese food. Nathan suggested we'd order in, considering there was a lot to discuss, to go over, and plan. I—well, I thought against it. Perhaps it was against my better judgment, but she'd been through enough. I wanted to give her one day of normalcy. So, I put on my 'father' shoes, puffed out my chest, and suggested we eat at the restaurant in town—enjoy dinner as a family.

Rosie was all for it. She took an hour's shower, dug through her bag for a change of clothes, and prettied herself up as teenagers would. I'd almost commented, but held my tongue when she said: Monty, really?

Yes, really. Put a sweater on.

Nathan was more upset he had to leave his comfort zone. I told him he could've stayed home if it really bothered him, but he reminded me I never brought him back any foo"d when I went out. "And, besides," he said, "maybe I'll bump into one of the cashiers there.

Sure, Nate.

The restaurant wasn't far, either. We walked the distance, passing the lake bordered by abandoned manors. I'd told Rosie of the stories I knew about them, about the town's past. I half thought a teenage girl would find such things boring—stories of coal mining and old factories—but she followed my finger and listened to every word. Maybe she wanted to humor me; or maybe she and I had something in common: a love for history.

"I'm starved!" Rosie exclaimed as we walked through the restaurant doors and claimed a booth at the far end. The place wasn't large—just two booths and three tables—but friendly enough that despite its small size. Lisa, the owner, and her husband Sang, made the restaurant what it was—one of the best's places to eat.

I passed out the red menus so we each had our own and opened mine in the middle. My eyes scanned the dinner entrees while my stomach growled in Morse Code what to order. I hadn't eaten all day, or the day before, and the list of chicken, beef, and duck reminded made my mouth water.

"I'll have the orange chicken!" Rosie said as she slapped her menu back down on the table.

Nathan mocked her, doing the same, but ordered, "Shrimp chop suey!"

I suddenly felt like the only adult at the table as I pulled their menus from under their hands and coupled them with my own. With a wave of my hand, Lisa walked over to our booth to take our orders. Rosie and Nathan repeated theirs, while I ordered beef and broccoli. I lacked the enthusiasm of the snickering duo as she took our menus and walked away.

"I see you both are getting along," I said, leaning back against my seat.

Rosie sat beside me, rummaging through her bag for a nail file. She smiled at me, and at Nathan, before saying, "I'm just in a good mood."

"I still think you're a brat," Nathan added.

I cocked a brow. "Coming from the man who never leaves his computer seat."

"I," Nathan patted his lips, "don't leave that spot to help you, Lamont. Never forget it."

I smirked, "Never do, Nate."

"So, this," Rosie looked at the both of us with raised brows and slowly filed her nails, "this is how roommates act?"

"He's my brother," I said as I pointed at Nathan's wavy hair, "can't you see the resemblance?"

Nathan folded his hands in front of him. "And brothers look out for each other."

Ah, don't we, my boy?

"Hm, I don't think you two look alike," Rosie dropped the file back in her bag, craning her neck to look over my head into the restaurant's kitchen, "but you're both weird."

"Weird how?" Nathan asked as he sucked his teeth.

My eyes followed Rosie's as we both looked at the cook who sorted through pans, flipping stir fry in his silver wok. My stomach flipped, famished, and I grabbed my glass of water to calm the growl. Rosie's hand landed on my shoulder for balance. "I mean, I thought you were Monty's boyfriend," she said.

"Rosie," I looked at Nathan's red, shocked face, "I told you before he wasn't."

"He acts like it," she said as she dropped back down in her seat. "You should've seen him when we brought you back from the park. He—"

I held her hand tight in mine to quiet her. She looked at me with wide eyes before catching Nathan's angry, unwavering gaze. He gripped his own hands, so tight, they were white around the knuckles. "You don't have a clue what you're talking about," he said through gritted teeth. "You're just a smart-ass little girl who thinks she knows it all."

"I've only been around, what, a day? You think you know me," she spat.

Now, I truly was the only adult at the table. As the two went back and forth, like bickering children, Lisa returned with our plates and placed them in front of us. With an awkward smile, I thanked her and listened as the duo stopped their pointless argument to start on dinner. After listening to repeated brat and jerk—and other words in between—I wasn't sure if I had much of an appetite. Nonetheless, I tried.

That was the reason why Nathan didn't want to come out with us; I'd only assumed they had a similar conversation the other night. And Rosie, clearly, was as expressive and honest as Charlotte—and that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Dinner proceeded with silence, with only the sound of the news playing on the hanging TV. My fork scraped the bottom of my plate as I missed a piece of beef. "Monty," Rosie said quietly beside me. "Can I ask you a question?"

Oh, the need for normal conversation has arrived, hm? I looked at her out the corner of my eye. "What is it?"

"When did you and Mom really get together?"

I sat up straight and dropped my fork. Charlotte and I? "She didn't tell you?"

Rosie shook her head. "No," she said as she pushed aside a piece of chicken. "I assumed it was sensitive stuff. I asked Gramps, but he had no idea. I thought, maybe, if I read the journal you guys wrote in, I'd know more, but it wasn't in there either."

I looked at Nathan. He drank his glass of water to keep from having to say a word. I'd told him the story—bits and parts of it—but never liked to. Rosie was right, it was sensitive. I'd done things I regretted by that point, said things I hadn't meant to say, but eventually, the only place Charlotte had to go was in my arms.

It wasn't the best of love stories.

"If you don't want to tell me either, I mean—"

"No," I grabbed my napkin and wiped my hands. "Where did you want me to start?"

Rosie's blue eyes brightened abnormally, the way mine did. Nathan dropped his fork as he caught the glow that filled the booth. Immediately, she covered her face with both hands and shook her head. "Sorry," she spoke into her palm, "that happens when I get excited."

Excited?

Nathan muttered that he'd grab the check for us to pay, and doggie bags to go. I nodded. "Your eyes glow?" I asked Rosie as Nathan left his seat.

She nodded, still covering her face. "Yeah—give me a minute, it'll go away."

I chewed on my lip. "You're sick?"

Sick? Of course, she would be. We were infected by a virus, and obviously, it could be passed on during pregnancy. But, in a child? How deep could the illness go?

"Sick?" She peered one glowing eye at me through parted fingers. "I'm fine. Everybody does this back home."

Everyone? I sucked in a slow breath. "Even you?"

She laughed as she rubbed her face. The light in her eyes fading back into their normal hue. "Duh, Monty, I just did it. I mean, it's in my blood, right?"

"Of course," I said as Nathan returned with plastic trays and bags, "in your blood."

I followed Rosie out the exit doors, and Nathan followed me. We weren't more than a few blocks down the street before Nathan grabbed my arm and whispered, "She doesn't know?"

How could she? The Church of Evergreens believed they were all holy disciples of the devil himself. "No, she doesn't."

Rosie, a few feet ahead of us, kicked a rock into the grass with her shoe. "I can hear you guys."

Oh, lovely. I was talking behind her back, already. "Sorry."

"Like I said," Rosie kicked another rock, "if you don't want to tell me about you and Mom, I get it, but you don't have to whisper about it. I know it's something you guys tried to forget."

"Tried to forget?" I caught up to her, with Nathan close behind. "I could never forget it. We just never talked about it."

"To the point where you and your," she paused as she looked back at Nathan, "brother, whisper about it."

Nathan grumbled under his breath.

Oh, Rosie, if only you knew the truth.

"Hey." I grabbed her arm gently by her elbow and turned her to look at me. Her blue eyes were hit by the light of the moon, and for once I saw what Charlotte always described to me. An ocean with endless waves—if you listened closely, you could hear those waves crash against the rocks of your soul. "We weren't whispering about Charlotte. I'd never hide that from you."

"Then, what was it?" Her hands dug into the pockets of her black jeans.

I swallowed a nervousness that crept up my throat. I'd only just met her and hadn't the real chance yet to be her father—could I ruin her so soon? I forced a smile, continued down the street, and motioned for both her and Nathan to follow me. "We'll make a deal," I said. "You ask a question, and I'll tell you what you want to hear, even if it's what we're whispering about. Over," I paused and smirked, "ice cream?"

"I love ice cream!" She smiled like Charlotte, and God did my heart melt.

"I'll serve it," Nathan sighed as he gripped his hair with both hands. "Lamont makes a mess of everything."

"That, I can agree with," Rosie laughed as she skipped ahead. "Mom said you couldn't do anything right."

I scratched my head, confused. "Well that settles it, then," I said with a laugh of my own. "I need to tell you my side of the story. Seems your mother describes me as a blubbering fool."

"A murdering, blubbering fool!" she added with a loud whisper.

I stopped. Damnit, Charlotte—what have you told her?

"Right," I cleared my throat, "I have no choice but to tell you my side of the story because I'm more than a murdering fool."

**

"Your Mother loved me from the moment she laid eyes on me," I looked up from my bowl of chocolate ice cream. "Those were her words, of course."

Rosie's eyes were the brightest shade of blue, their pigment heightened, but not quite a glow. She sat opposite of me, her legs pulled up to her chest to balance her bowl on her knees. The couch pillow behind her head kept her upright. With a spoon of ice cream steady in her mouth, she didn't say a word and waited for me to continue.

I wasn't sure where to start, considering I didn't know what Charlotte had told her already. Our relationship was never perfect; farthest from it, really. Yet, with time, we'd settled into something that made us forget the ever-changing world. At least, I did.

"Her parents were fond of me. Her father and I, you could say, were well above just regular partners. I'd considered him a friend." I looked at Nathan as he pulled his desk chair closer across the carpet, with ice cream of his own. "The possibility of Charlotte and I being married was a constant in the air."

"So, you loved Mom right away, too?"

"No," I snorted. Then, I realized how much of an ass that made me sound. She blinked her wide eyes as the blue flickered back to normal and her spoon dropped back into her bowl. I needed to clarify. "I thought your mother was stunning, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, but I didn't love her. Not right away."

I paused. She listened, her body shifting away from the pillow as it fell to the floor. Nathan inched closer, wondering what I'd say next.

"It took months before I felt more than, you know." I put my bowl down on the coffee table. "And, honestly, I hadn't meant to. The truth was I'd originally planned on robbing her father blind. What man gives a stranger everything he has, and only expects counsel in return?"

She placed her bowl next to mine. Nathan laughed against his spoon, "Sounds like a good man to me."

You would think that, wouldn't you, Nate?

"He was." I leaned back against the couch, adjusting my pillow. "He was a very good man, and if I could take some things back, I would. Hell, if I could go back and not be so reckless, maybe..."

I trailed off, lost in thought. For a second, I remembered the blood in Charles' eyes the last time we spoke. His fingers stained my collar red, and his words—a promise I'd made him, and took far too seriously: 'Don't let her die.'

"Mom told me he died," Rosie said quietly. "Her mom, too. That was it, nothing else."

I nodded. "She never told you what happened?"

She shook her head. I'd caught Nathan's attention. His bowl was empty, but he didn't put it down. He waited, eyes on me. Had I not told him this story, too? I couldn't recall if I did. Sometimes, I'm surprised I could even remember it.

I supposed I could tell them both—at least someone else would remember with me.

"It was May, and cold for some odd reason," I started, and closed my eyes as I thought of Charlotte's face.