His mother sighed. “But wouldn’t it be nice for them to grow up close to their cousins? You could move the business back here, merge it with your father’s. I know that what happened with Kip was tragic and heartbreaking, but he didn’t have to leave town…”
The good-natured smile left Rowan’s face, and his expression turned somber. “Mom, no more of that.”
The energy around the table changed.
The smiles dimmed, and everyone seemed to take a collective breath.
Jill was not ready to back down, though.
“All I’m saying is, it’s been five years, and I know his mother—”
“Enough!” Rowan slammed his palm down on the table, and glasses rattled, teetering.
I flinched, but no one else seemed too shaken. Calliope caught her glass before it toppled over then sipped from it casually.
Rowan’s father shook his head.
Kendra whispered to her son for swiping through the frosting on one of the cakes. Keith seemed to be looking at some kind of game that was playing on the TV in the other room.
It seemed only I was disturbed by Rowan’s sudden outburst. I was the only one out of the loop about whatever it was with Kip.
He and his mother stared at each other a beat longer before whatever it was in the air dissipated.
“What do you use to make this cake so rich, Nora?” Kendra asked, licking the tines of her fork. “I’ve never tasted anything like this before.”
I took one more glance at Rowan, worried and curious, before I answered.
Things went smoothly from there on out, but I shelved the conversation for later.
It was hard to hold on to it, though, surrounded by the sounds of the house. The laughter and easy conversation during after-dinner coffee. With the warm hugs from everyone as they said goodbye. Promises and plans made for the future.
Yes, it was hard to hold on to the one black spot in the day.
Hard, but not impossible.
We were driving home Christmas night. Even though Jill had urged us to stay, Rowan had firmly said no.
When I’d tried to argue about it, he’d pulled me to the side and said, “Wanna fuck you so hard you scream tonight. Not plannin’ on doin’ that under my parent’s roof.”
I did not try to argue any further.
Maggie was sleeping over with her ‘cousins’ who loved her dearly and weren’t yet allowed a dog. The sleepover was a ‘test run’ of them walking her, feeding her and cleaning up her mess.
They were then driving down with Maggie and the entire family to check out my bakery and spend New Year’s Eve with us.
I had been delighted at the news since I found myself utterly at home with each of them and anxious to spend more time with them. But I also had about a million things to do in order to show them the best time.
“Stop,” Rowan commanded.
I stared at him in question since I hadn’t been speaking.
“You’re thinking about spending the next week baking, cooking, decorating, cleaning or whatever the fuck in order to host my family.”
I gaped at him. “I knew you were amazing, but I didn’t know you were also a mind reader.”
He snickered. “Not a mind reader, just know you. Saw your eyes glaze over about two seconds after they lit up in excitement at the prospect of my family comin’.” He reached from where his hand was on my thigh to lace his fingers through mine. “And fuck, do I love to see you excited to spend time with them.”
“It’s pretty easy,” I shrugged. “I love your family.”
“And they love you,” he replied immediately. “Bet my life savings that there’s already a million and one texts on my phone singin’ your praises.”
“It’s only because I brought baked goods,” I joked.
Rowan didn’t smile. In fact, his face turned very serious, his grip tightening around my hand.
“Stop, Nora. It’s because you’re fuckin’ you.”
I bit my lip. “Are you sure about me?”
Rowan’s head turned to briefly squint at me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Worry is not a state of mind for me, it’s a personality trait,” I sighed, hoping the darkness inside the truck hid the shame settling over me like sweat. “I’m not like your family, so easy, happy, sure of themselves. I worry that you need—”
I didn’t get to finish what I was saying since Rowan slammed on his brakes and pulled the truck over to the shoulder. Luckily, there was no one behind us.
His long, masculine fingers found my chin, tilting it so I was forced to meet those cerulean eyes.
His jaw was stiff, lips a thin line to communicate he was obviously pissed about something, but he was looking at me with a softness that counteracted that sharp jaw.
“You had to grow up fast,” he said. “Too fuckin’ fast. You had to shoulder shit that wasn’t yours to carry, turn into an adult and think about things that you shouldn’t have known existed.” He shook his head, as if in awe.