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Her Mistake

Rosalie has always sucked at communication. The only person worse than her is the impulsive, gorgeous man she can't get out of her system. After a stinging rejection she's trying to move on, but the past (otherwise known as Emmett) keeps holding her back. She honestly prefers it that way… even if the hurt may be inevitable. Rated M, Lemons, cannon. (Sequel to 'Her Bridesmaid')

Characters don't belong to me.

Chapter one

Tapping my pen on my desk I watch the rain on the window. Droplets slide down the glass, as I envision myself elsewhere.

"Rose," my boss claps, pulling me from my day dream, "what happened to that piece?"

"Oh, the Sherman? Next week," I say, "there was a delay from the artist."

"Ugh. Fucking losers," he groans.

My boss Jerry was a sassy asshole. He bitched about artists we commissioned and bitched about world class artists we presented in the gallery.

"Babe," he looks at me, "can you go fetch me a latte when you're free. I need coffee. If you put a shot of whiskey in it I wouldn't fire you."

"Nice to know," I gathered my phone and wallet on my desk and stand, "would you fire me if I had one too."

"Never babes," he shakes his head, "you make this gallery turn around. In fact I had a chat with the big guy upstairs about showing your art. Just a small thing. He's considering it."

"Wait," I gasp, "fuck off."

For years I'd invested my life in art. My Aunt Kayla had gifted me my first paint set as a child and since I've adored it. I worked curating it, displaying it for the public, under the instruction of Jerry. So basically more like an assistant with authority. But the owner of the gallery had never looked my way. Thomas Gary was huge in New York. This wasn't his only gallery. I'd shown Jerry some of my work a few weeks ago and he'd gotten drunk before showing it to Thomas fucking Gary.

"Showcasing my work? Here?" I ask.

"It's early days gorgeous," he nods, "I'm working on it. If I have to suck every dick up that stupid career ladder I will."

I smile and shake my head.

"That won't be necessary," I smile, "besides your husband would kick my ass if I let you try."

"He'd join in," Jerry waved his hands, "latte. Go! Don't forget the extra pump of caramel."

"On it," I nod.

Stalking out into the rain, I open my umbrella, trying not to let my pumps take me down. They weren't built for slippery New York sidewalks. But coffee is necessary right now. So I press on toward my local cafe.

I move through the crowd and glare at people who push or nudge me.

Christmas was meant to be magical here, but Elf fucking lied. It's like every human converges here to breath bullshit on one another.

My best friend Bella had been dying for Christmas. It would be the first year she's spending it with her boyfriend Edward's family. Last year they'd spent it apart because her mother had insisted she come to Arizona - Edward had work. Busy CEO shit I'd never understand. I'd tagged along and actually enjoyed it, despite nursing a heartbreak.

This year they were travelling with his whole family for a Christmas together. I'd be left home, by myself, on the holidays. Bella had insisted I join but I couldn't. The thought alone made me crippled with stress.

For the past month I'd listened to her list of ways to make it the best Christmas ever for her and her boyfriend. Am I sour because I'm desperately single? Yep. Do I hold a bit of childish animosity toward her boyfriend because I totally fucked it up with his brother? Also yep.

I'm jealous. I wanted him so bad that I let him slip away. When I'd finally made up my mind he rejected me. We weren't built to be together - a painful and cold pill to swallow. I knew my fault but he always behaved as if he didn't know his.

Yet whenever he'd texted the words 'pineapple on pizza' I'd show up on his doorstep, ready to cave. The code word for 'you up?'. Our booty call. There's a cute story behind it... it just hurts to recall it.

Those messages had come less frequently since his sister's wedding. I'd looked back at the last one only this morning. Four months ago.

I'd cut pizza out of my life completely.

His sister's wedding was beautiful. I'd been her bridesmaid - because she'd hired me to be. An idea that birthed my best friend's booming business, Her Bridesmaid. Bella had been in several weddings on hire to forge a fake friendship so the bride felt less like a fool since her launch last year.

Throughout the venture of Alice's wedding I'd fucked her brother frequently. To me it was sex. To him it was more. To us it was a brutal disaster.

I'd struggled with the idea of connection and commitment for a long time. My parents had never really been the type to show affection. My mother raised me in country club daycares and my father had countless affairs with the receptionists at the country club. That was before the bitter divorce earlier this year. Even before it Id struggled to be around them. I only went home for Christmas if Aunt Kayla would be there. But she was based overseas now. So this was home.

I'd grown up quickly, using men as a way to get back at them. Struggling with the fact that it never seemed to work.

My only friend was my Aunty Kayla. My father's sister showed me the world could be stunning if you picked the colours and the brush stroke.

But when it came to Emmett I felt something in my chest telling me it's too good to be true. I'd set out to be his friend with benefits. I'd made it clear from the moment he kissed me. But he'd tried to change the course of an 'us' that was never what I'd planned to have.

I'm the classic mess of having too many guys fucking me over to trust. Even the real ones.

Alice and Bella had chewed my ass off, telling me to look past my fears. But I left it too long. I showed up on his doorstep to a woman answering the door in his shirt. One that he put me in after a long night of...

I couldn't even be angry.

I'd said we weren't official.

But it hurt. He knew it did. He just didn't care. Like he'd proven a point he didn't need to.

So I'd left and let it get messier with each and every booty call. Until they dried up. Until I wondered what he was doing every day. If he was safe in his job as a police officer, if he was happy with another woman, if he ever thought about me to. If we had tried harder could we have made it work.

I know the answer is inevitably yes.

But maybe we were right at the wrong time? Or maybe we were wrong from the start and lust was too strong to get past.

"Hey," I smile at my barista, "this weather is disgusting."

She grins at me, 'Lisa' on her Christmas themed name tag.

"It's meant to only get worse. I hope you're not travelling. They said the airport is chaotic," she says.

"My roommate is meant to be," I nod, "travelling to her boyfriend's parent's fancy house in Seattle for the holidays."

I would be the plant bitch once again.

"Shit," she shakes her head, "hopefully they get out. Latte with caramel and a cap with soy?"

"You got it," I nod.

Paying and heading to the collection area I turn my head as I look up at the TV above the counter, watching the newscaster report on a car crash just outside the city.

"It's sad that people are dying around the holidays," I jump at the voice.

A man, who I had no idea was behind me, was watching the Tv too. Now he's checking me out. Death as a pick up line?

His hair is dark, slick. He wears a suit and smells like musk. I look him up and down and assess if he's worth my time.

"Sad when people die any day," I shrug, a tone to hint I don't want company, "I don't think people die to inconvenience others."

"Wow," he looks taken aback by my tone, "you looked nicer than you sound."

"Are you misogynistic to all the women you meet or just the pretty ones who won't accept your advances?" I ask.

"Advances?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Considering you were checking out my tits while talking about death at Christmas I figured there's be a Segway into dinner coming. I'll stop you before you mortify us," I shake my head annoyed, "I'm getting a coffee on my short but deserved break from my job. I don't owe you a smile."

"Fuck you then," he turns his back on me, pride hurt.

Scoffing, I turn my attention to the cafe, scanning the tables out of boredom.

"No man stands a chance do they," he's at a table before me, out of uniform.

"Coffee and a donut. Could you be more cliche?" I roll my eyes taking in his table.

"Pencil skirt and a red blouse. Could you be?" He retorts.

"Emmett," I try to hide the smile he puts on my face without effort.

"Hey pineapple," he smirks at me, "long time no see."

Thanks for reading x