Chapter 17
“So, basically, you’re in the middle of a shitstorm. Your sisters are in Dublin, and I’m in Zürich helping Mom with the spa. You love Hugh, but he ruined it. You started dating a man you like, William, but Hugh had a change of heart. You decided to drop the boyfriend and find out if sex with Hugh is as good as the dry humping’s been. Hugh goes all alpha wolf on Will, hurting Will’s feelings and embarrassing the hell out of you, which leaves you to plan Hugh’s murder all by yourself,” Jo succinctly summed up Rowan’s current situation.
Once Rowan had calmed herself enough to go back into the boutique, finish her notes, and check on the backordered bathroom mirror, she had called Jo. Even though it was nine hours later in Switzerland, Rowan knew her friend would be up late working.
Jo had quickly shut down any discussion involving Thomas MacGregor. Jo had become increasingly cagey in her responses the past few weeks. Rowan agreed to drop it but warned her that a Byrne reckoning was on the near horizon. Rowan made a mental note to get MacGregor’s number. Perhaps it was time to see what the Scottish giant had to say for himself.
“The problem, Jo, is I don’t even want to kill him. I don’t…I would like to understand why he did it. He had no right!”
“We’re talking about Hugh O’Faolain, Row. He believed he had every right. Don’t give me an ounce of bullshit like you weren’t aware of your man’s personality. He isn’t known as a wolf for no reason. You know this. Our families have known each other for years. My father would wax on about Hugh’s business savvy. Dad said that there were tales of men crying during meetings, and all Hugh would do was stare at them.
“My point is, Hugh didn’t allow his people to make excuses for failure, and I believe he wouldn’t make an excuse for his own.”
Rowan sighed. “I’m sure he wouldn’t, but the fact remains that what he did was disrespectful to myself and William.” Hours later, and Rowan was still in a state of petrified mortification.
“Did he explain?”
“No. I told him to leave.” Rowan refused to dwell on how crushed he’d looked. Damn him. He didn’t deserve a grain of sand’s worth of sympathy.
“I get that he was highhanded. I get the frustration of a highhanded man, trust me, but…I don’t know…was it that bad what Hugh said?”
“Umm, I don’t know, Jo. You tell me. He told Will that the day after he returned to Houston, he made me come, and I was screaming Hugh’s name, not his.” Jo’s gasp, followed by silence, meant probably meant her ‘surely it wasn’t that bad’ attitude took a hike.
Finally, Jo was back into damage control versus a kiss and make up mode. “Tell Matilda her son needs a time out for bad behavior. Hugh’s her son. She’ll get it. Pack a bag and head to my parents. I’ll call the housekeeper and tell her you’ll be there in an hour.”
“No, Jo. I’m only venting. Staying at your home isn’t necessary.” Hugh wouldn’t just go away. Rowan knew he was planning how to corner her at this very moment, but that didn’t mean she needed to hide.
“Hugh needs to think about his actions and why he did them. You need to calm down and remember the reasons why you were willing to dump William for him. Your trust was new, and he fucked that up in the first hour. Give yourself a moment to breathe.”
Jo was right. She just needed time to order her thoughts and feelings. “Okay. I’ll pack now.”
“You do know that even though he made an ass out of himself, you need to give him a chance to explain. Right?”
“Right.”
Rowan packed a weekend bag, only planning to stay at Jo’s for a couple of days. She threw in her best running shoes, planning on taking advantage of the gorgeous park near the O’Connor’s home. She gave Matilda a very abbreviated version of Hugh’s conversation with William, knowing she would need to be armed with some information if it came up between her and Diana.
It was late by the time she got situated at the O’Connor’s. It had been an excruciatingly long day, and Rowan wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep. She’d spoken to William for an hour. He was furious at Hugh and furious at himself for his part in the conversation. Apparently, he’d said something Rowan wouldn’t have appreciated that he refused to repeat.
Rowan admitted that she and Hugh had had something in the past, but when she’d agreed to date William, she was completely free to do so. Will had seemed so pensive and sad. It had crushed Rowan. She, of all people, knew what disappointment tasted like. Had Hugh not inserted himself into her private life, the breakup conversation with Will would have looked vastly different.
He admitted work was tense and it was probably best to focus on the company instead of his love life. He did make her promise to reach out if she ever decided to get rid of the “O’Faolain asshole.” William told her that he really had felt like they could have had a future.
What a mess.
Hugh hadn’t tried to contact her until ten minutes ago. Speaking with Will had drained her emotionally. She didn’t want to deal with Hugh tonight but knew it couldn’t be put off. Rowan slipped into the fragrant bath, rose essence slicking the water’s surface and permeating the hot air of the room. She put on a new eclectic playlist River had sent her a few days ago that she hadn’t had a chance to listen to yet.
Bleeding Loveby Leona Lewis began playing. Christ, there were times when Rowan would swear she and her sisters had an otherworldly connection. She palmed her phone as Lewis crooned. The lyrics certainly held an omniscient quality..
Rowan sighed. She felt like she was bleeding, flayed. It was torture to be at odds with Hugh. She relaxed further into the bath and went to her text messages, tapping on his.
Please, Rowan. Talk to me.
I’m exhausted, Hugh. You might not care, but hurting William hurt me.
I care.
Then understand it’s been a long day.
You’re gone. Mom won’t tell me where you are.
Goodnight, Hugh.
I love you. I’m sorry.
I love you.
Running was exactlywhat Rowan needed this morning. Seven o’clock and it was already a steamy eighty-two degrees and one hundred percent humidity. Welcome to an Oklahoma August morning.
Sweat waterfalled from her scalp to her ankles, detoxifying the negative energy from her body. A night of tossing and turning produced several truths. Yesterday’s fiasco had in no way shaken her faith and love for Hugh—and…He would explain his actions. No ifs, ands, or buts. He wasn’t hiding his feelings. Not from her. Rowan had chosen Hugh. She was his and he was hers. That meant no secrets.
She had stopped trying to understand her strong connection to Hugh a year ago. Some things just were—fate, destiny—whatever the label, it began and ended with that man.
She veered toward a lesser run path, but one she knew had more trees and flowers. Rowan flew by blankets of gorgeous Blue Violets, startling a squirrel who chittered furiously at the interruption. Grinning, she pelted down a steep ravine and leaped up a rock incline.
She was about to meet the main path again. Ten more strides, and she’d be out of the rougher, more natural path. Rowan was about to burst through the shaded haven when a shadow startled her. She yelped and stumbled over a loose rock. She would swear she’d seen a man move behind one of the large, older oaks fifteen or twenty feet off the path.
Her heart pounded out of her chest, the ghost of Samuel Delton raising its ugly head momentarily discombobulating her run. Frustration burned that she’d allowed herself to get spooked. Delton was dead. May he rest in Hell.
Being shot by Delton produced occasional random fissures of fear, but honestly, it had started long before the shooting. The discovery that he had taken pictures of her and put them on his dark web rape page. That he’d planned on kidnapping and violating her. Videoing the crime for his followers to rent and view.
Imagining that had left her feeling exposed. Vulnerable. Jumpy. Everyone had been heavily guarded. The difference was that Rowan’s sisters and Jo had Bran, Patrick, and MacGregor to share their innermost fears. Allowing another to share the burden lessened the hold. Delton was dead and couldn’t follow through with his threat, but sometimes, her brain didn’t care. The dreaded what-ifs.
Rowan had promised her sisters before leaving Dublin that she’d get a therapist, and she was thankful she had. Dr. Sehoy was a Native Creek therapist and had been helping her tremendously over the past several weeks. She was learning what might trigger her anxiety and coping methods. Still, it was frustrating that she allowed negative thoughts to intrude during her run.
Shaking off her unproductive thoughts, she regained her easy stride, maneuvering onto the main trail and smiling at a few other runners. Rowan finished her run and quickly showered. She was treating herself to a few spa treatments this morning. The cleaning crew would be there most of the day, so she decided to take advantage of the time off.
Rowan was in the middle of getting her calves massaged, pure heaven, during her pedicure when her phone dinged. Groaning at the interruption, she checked her messages regardless. It might be a family thing.
Please let me see you tonight.
Rowan was about to reply when she noticed Angela walk-running across the spa heading toward her chair. One look at her frantic, tearstained face and Rowan’s heart dropped. “What happened?”
“Oh God, Rowan, I’m so sorry to interrupt your pedicure like a lunatic, but oh, God, you mentioned your appointment,” she wailed, gaining the other customer’s attention as she slipped into the empty chair next to Rowans. “The furniture company called me. The delivery truck, with all my furniture, was in a traffic accident and the truck caught on fire. Fire, Rowan! No one was hurt, thank God—only my furniture. All of it.”
“Oh Lord, no.” Angela’s dramatics were well-founded. Most of the pieces they’d picked had taken weeks to get in.
“They said they can reorder, but it will take four to six weeks, and some of the pieces are backordered. I’ll have to put my grand opening off. I already had all the mailings made. The article for the newspaper is set to run this weekend,” Angela recited the nightmare list in panic.
The boutique owner looked a minute away from hyperventilating. Shit! Think, Rowan think. “We’ll figure this out, Angela.” Glancing down at her pedicurist, she asked, “Would you mind just drying me off? I’m sorry, but I have to leave.”
Angela and Rowan walked into a small bakery on the same block as the spa. “Would you order me an iced green tea? I’ll grab a table. I need to return a few texts before we figure out some amazing plan for your furniture.” She nodded and smiled, looking slightly relieved.
There’s been a problem at the boutique. Furniture order delay. I should know in an hour what my schedule will look like. Meeting with Angela now.
But will you see me?
Will you explain?
Yes.
Then, I’ll see you.
Thank fuck, call me when you know. I love you.
I love you.
God, she loved every gorgeous, infuriating bit of that man.
Angela sat, handing Rowan her tea and placed a plate of…three pastries and two cookies. “Don’t judge. I could lie and say I’m stress eating, but I won’t bother. I eat donuts for dinner on the regular.”
They both laughed. It looked like the extreme panic from earlier had passed. “I’d like to preface my solution with one demand. You have to send me new stock pics every season and ship anything I buy to Dublin free of charge.”
Angela grinned, “Done. What’s your solution?”
“Is Mr. Peterson the salesman who called you?”
“Yes. He felt terrible.”
“Okay. Call Mr. Peterson. Tell him we’ll meet him first thing in the morning at his store. You and I will leave this afternoon as soon as we can pack a bag. It’ll take a little under four hours to get to The Colony, Texas. We’ll check into a hotel close to the store and spend Wednesday picking out every single item, no matter how long it takes.
“That means we can only pick in-stock items, but you’ll remember, Nebraska Furniture Mart is a city unto itself. We will find everything. I understand you might feel bummed out that it won’t be your first pick, but there is always a chance you’ll like some of the things even better. After all, it will all be purchased in person. A lot of your pieces were chosen from pictures and websites.” When Angela just sat there blinking, an orange-glazed scone dangling from her fingertips, Rowan assured, “If you want to wait and simply reorder, I’d totally understand. I will stick around and help you reschedule your opening, no problem.”
Bursting into tears, Angela dropped the scone to grab Rowan’s hand. “I may not have to put off the opening. Oh my God, you aren’t just the most amazing designer but the most wonderful friend. I know I’ve been so extra about the opening, but it’s just…I really, really wanted to prove to myself that I can do something…do this. I want to show my husband that I’m not just a rich housewife. I’m a badass businesswoman.
“My husband does love me, but there have been times over the past few years that I’ve felt I’m no longer enough, just being me, you know.”
“Oh, Angela, whether this store is a success or a total failure, you need to understand that you are enough. Just you. I imagine your husband would agree. After all, you might not have noticed him staring at you in absolute devotion every time he dropped by, but I sure as hell did.” Angela’s eyes flared with hope. “So, does that mean we’re going with my road trip plan?”
“Hell yes, it does! Text me your address, and I’ll pick you up in,” she paused to consult her watch, “two hours. And thank you, Rowan. Really. Thank you.”
“I should thank you. Your store is going to be so amazing. I’ll probably get a ton of work because of it,” Rowan grinned, both women laughing as they left the bakery.
Rain check? I’m on my way to Jo’s to pack my things and then to your moms to pack a new bag. Total catastrophe with Angela’s furniture. Going to a furniture store in The Colony, Texas, to rebuy everything. Should be home by Thursday afternoon.
Let me know when you get to Moms. I’ll come.
You don’t have to do that.
Let me see you, Row.
Okay.