Chapter 23
23
ADRIAN
She’s crying in my arms and I don’t know what to do. Rowena trembles against my chest, her body wracked with sobs. I stroke a hand over her silky hair, unsure what else to do or say.
Her ex is lucky my hands are occupied comforting her, or I’d chase after him and beat his sorry ass into the curb.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” I murmur against her hair. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. And I don’t judge you one bit for dating that scumbag, I promise.”
Rowena shakes her head slightly where it’s nestled against my shoulder. Her tears dampen my T-shirt but I couldn’t care less.
“Hey, what is it? Why are you crying?”
She pulls back and looks up at me. Even with her eyes bloodshot from crying, she’s still so beautiful it strikes me dumb.
“I’m okay, I swear. I’m just so fucking relieved that I’ll never have to deal with Liam again.” Her statement catches me off guard. “He’s finally, truly gone from my life. ”
I blink back my surprise and let out a short, nervous chuckle. “Okay. So these are happy tears?”
“They’re fuck-off tears,” she says fiercely as a tentative smile appears on her beautiful face. The tension melts away from her frame, and it’s like I can physically feel the weight lifting off her. A knot in my chest I didn’t even know was there loosens, too. She doesn’t still harbor feelings for that asshole. Thank fuck. I will not examine too closely why that makes me so damn happy. I pull her more firmly into my arms and rub soothing circles on her back.
We stay like that for a long time as her tears slowly subside and her breathing evens out. I don’t let myself think about how right she feels in my embrace. How much I want to keep holding her and never let go.
She lets out a watery chuckle. “Gosh, what was I thinking, wasting so much time on him?” She wipes at her eyes, straightening up and away from me. I reluctantly let her go.
“Hey, no judgment, remember? We all make mistakes.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “But you’re free now.”
Rowena pulls further back and I feel the loss of her warmth in my bones. She rummages in her purse, fishing out a tissue to blow her nose. “Yes, I’m free.” The words sound momentous. “I did the right thing, telling Liam about the baby. His reaction was horrible, but my conscience is clear now.” She gazes at me, her eyes shining with newfound resolve. “The baby and I will be better off without him. That was always the case, but now it won’t be because I lied or hid the truth. It’s Liam’s decision to walk away, not mine.”
I nod, admiration ballooning inside me. “I’m proud of you, Sunshine.”
She fully grins now. “Thanks, Bunny. I couldn’t have done it without you. ”
“You would’ve managed just fine. But I’m glad I could be here for you.” I glance toward the café, then back at her. “So, what do you want to do now? Still up for that coffee, or would you rather just go?”
Rowena’s smile turns devilish. She reaches for the table, snatching up the two ten-dollar bills Liam dropped in his dramatic exit. “Oh, we’re having coffee. It’s on that asshole, after all.”
I laugh. “That’s the right attitude.”
“Damn straight.” She tucks the money into her pocket, then tilts her head. “What’s your poison, Bunny? Let me guess, black coffee?”
I grin, shaking my head. “Cappuccino, actually. With a sprinkle of cinnamon, if they have it.”
Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “Really? I pegged you for a straight-up espresso kind of guy.”
“What can I say? I’ve got a sweet tooth.”
“A sweet tooth, huh? Well, in that case, you can have all the sugar in the world.” Her smile is blinding, it could send me flatlining.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I manage, and she grins.
“Be right back.” She turns and heads into the coffee shop, an extra sway in her step.
I watch her go, my chest tight and expanded all at once. Pride, affection, admiration and something deeper, something I’m not quite ready to name, swirl inside me like a whirlwind.
That evening, I walk into the kitchen and almost backtrack at the sight of Rowena bent over the oven, pulling out a tray of mini quiches, her pert butt sticking up in the air. Instead, I freeze on the threshold, savoring the aroma of spinach and feta filling the air and the view.
I suck at keeping my distance. I haven’t worked a single hour today. Just this morning I was helping her handle the train wreck with her ex, and now we’re playing house prepping appetizers for a dinner party?
Rowena must sense my arrival because she peeks over her shoulder, saying, “These smell amazing.”
Her hair is piled in a messy bun, a few errant curls framing her face, oven mitts dwarfing her delicate hands.
“One of Rosa’s specialties,” I reply, stepping into the kitchen and helping her transfer the golden pastries to a platter. A task so domestic I can hardly believe I’m a part of it. “Along with the stuffed mushrooms and bacon-wrapped dates.”
“You weren’t kidding about going all out.” Rowena surveys the spread with an impressed whistle. “I hope my friends are hungry.”
“About that…” I raise an eyebrow. “Remind me again why I’m subjecting myself to this inquisition?”
“Oh hush, they just want to meet you.” She swats me with an oven mitt. “Make sure your intentions are pure and all that.”
“My intentions? I’m a perfect gentleman,” I deadpan, earning an eye roll.
Truth is, my intentions are becoming less gentlemanly by the minute. Especially after our brief excursion this morning—the ex-boyfriend confrontation, the long, spontaneous walk home across the Brooklyn Bridge with the Manhattan skyline glittering in the distance. All it was missing for us to look like a full-fledged couple was to hold hands.
I’m in over my head, and I know it. Rowena has stormed past all my carefully crafted walls as if they were made of tissue paper.
“Well, the table’s set, the wine’s breathing, the food’s ready…” She ticks off a mental checklist. “We’re in good shape.”
I follow her gaze to the living room table set for six.
“Why is your best friend bringing her boyfriend and her brother? Are they supposed to be the muscle in case I misbehave?” I muse, only half-joking.
“We’re a tight-knit group.” She side-steps the question. A chime from the second oven timer saves her from having to elaborate.
I watch her bustle around the kitchen like she belongs here.
With me.
I shake off the dangerous thought and grab the platter of quiches. The sooner we get this dinner party started and over with, the better. Because right now, playing house with Rowena is feeling far too real—and far too tempting.
Rowena sets down a tray of crab cakes next to the quiches and turns to me, her head tilted quizzically. “Can I ask you something?”
She says it casually, but I’m afraid she’s about to ask something deeply personal. I could say no, but there’s no point in pretending we’re not at least friends—if not already more.
“Sure.” I nod, bracing myself.
“You said it’ll just be your mom at the engagement party? What about your dad?”
I straighten the forks beside each plate, trying to sound casual. “He passed away a while ago.”
But Rowena’s too perceptive to miss the discomfort in my attitude. Her hand comes to rest on my arm, delicate and warm. “I’m sorry, Adrian. I didn’t mean to pry.”
I shrug, still not quite meeting her eyes. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”
She examines me intently, seeing right through my practiced nonchalance. “You don’t have to tell me the story. But just so you know… I’m here to listen. You already know my deepest, darkest secrets, after meeting Liam. And I don’t judge either.”
I fiddle with the cutlery, my thoughts churning. She trusts me. I saw it this morning. And there’s a part of me that desperately wants to reciprocate, to let her in.
But old habits die hard. I’ve spent years keeping people at a safe distance. Opening up, being vulnerable… it goes against every instinct I have.
Rowena seems to sense my internal struggle. She pats my arm, then steps back, giving me space. “No pressure, though. Just know the offer stands.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. She’s already seen more of the real me than anyone else has in a long, long time. But Rowena has been so open and honest with me. With a sigh, I decide to trust her back.
“Well, I’m an only child. And everything was pretty good early on—I had a happy childhood. But then when I was fourteen, my dad lost his job. After that, things got… difficult.”
I stop fidgeting with the already perfect setting and stare at her, memories flooding back.
“He couldn’t keep a job for long after that. He got bitter and angry. Kept saying the system was rigged against the common man, that regular people like us could never get ahead. Mom had to take on a second job, and we had to move to a smaller house.” My chest tightens as I recall that stressful time. The guilt. “ When I was ready to go to college, I was so torn. Even though I’d won a scholarship and knew getting a degree would help the family in the long run… part of me felt like I should stay home. Get a job to help Mom out, you know? It felt wrong leaving her.”
Rowena steps closer and rubs a comforting hand on my arm. “Adrian, you shouldn’t have felt guilty. Going to college was the right thing to do for yourself and your family.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” I shrug. “I took a bartending job while I was in school. Sent whatever money I could back home to Mom.”
“Is that why you chose finance? Because of everything your family went through?” Rowena asks kindly.
“Yeah. I knew I wanted a high-paying career. Didn’t have the stomach to be a surgeon or the time for law school. So banking it was. Even with my very first job out of college, I was making more than both of Mom’s salaries combined. She could quit that second job. I thought my dad would be proud of me. I’d proved to him we could make it without outside help. What I didn’t understand at the time is that the only thing I’d accomplished was to dispel the lies behind which he hid not to sort himself out. And he resented me for it. Besides growing more bitter over the years, he was also a proud man,” I continue, pausing briefly as I gather my thoughts. “He flat-out refused to accept any of the money I tried to give him and Mom.”
“I’m sorry, that must’ve been hard.” Rowena sighs. “So what did you do?”
“I wanted her to leave him, but she never did.” I let out a humorless chuckle. “I had to resort to secretly slipping cash to my mom whenever I could. She’d use it to pay the bills behind his back, put food on the table.” My brows furrow at the memory. “Then when I was twenty-six, Dad passed away suddenly from a heart attack. Fifty years old.”
“Oh, Adrian, I’m so sorry,” Rowena says softly.
“It’s okay. Honestly…” I don’t know what compels me to admit a truth I’ve never said out loud to anyone. “When he died, part of me felt… relieved. Like I could finally give Mom the life she deserved without his stubbornness and pride getting in the way. Move her out of that run-down house into a decent place.”
I brace myself, waiting for Rowena to recoil in disgust at my admission. What kind of heartless son feels relief at his father’s death? Instead, she wraps her arms around me, snuggling close.
“Adrian, I understand,” she mutters against my shoulder. “You don’t have to explain or justify how you felt. Emotions are complicated, especially in situations like those.” Her words echo through me, soothing the gnawing guilt that’s been my secret companion for years. I hug her back. “You’re not heartless. You were looking out for your mom. Wanting her to have a better life doesn’t make you a bad person.” She draws back to watch me with such tenderness my chest feels like it’s been hit with a sledgehammer. The sensation is unnerving and comforting at the same time. “Now I see why your career is so important to you. Your mom must be incredibly proud of you.”
Emotion clogs my throat, but I force my vocal cords to cooperate. “Thanks. That… means a lot.”
Just then, the doorbell chimes, startling us both. Her friends, if nothing else, have impeccable timing. Another minute alone, and I’m not sure what other confessions I might’ve started making.
“I’ll get it.” She smiles, smoothing her hair down.
As I follow her to the door, I marvel at how easily she can read me. This fake engagement is getting more complicated by the minute. But as I watch Rowena greet her friends with warm hugs and uninhibited laughter, I’m in no rush for it to end.
Even if it means facing a few more uncomfortable truths along the way. Or a firing squad of worried friends—two of them juggernauts.
Rowena neglected to mention that the “guys” are a pair of six-foot-five giants who look capable of bench pressing a compact car—or tearing me apart limb from limb if they chose to.
Tonight is going to be so much fun.