Chapter 14
Natalia
The door to Lana’s house swings open and she’s staring at me with furrowed brows as I stand in her doorway, out of breath.
“Rowan is a sex machine!” I yell and storm in, toeing off my boots before I head for the corkscrew in her kitchen.
“I don’t understand,” Lana says, racing after me.
“Is Isa here yet?”
“She’s on her way. What’s going on?”
I swallow and hold up the bottle. “I brought wine. I know, I’m sorry. If you don’t want me to drink it here, it’s okay. I just…I don’t know. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think.”
“Nat, breathe,” Lana says softly, putting her hands around my upper arms. I nod and we take deep breaths together. “It’s okay, Nat. We can have some wine.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods. “As long as we don’t leave any around—there’s never any alcohol in this house. And after Isa’s birthday…I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I’m sorry.” I frown. “I’ll take it with me when I go.”
Lana nods, dropping her hands to the pristine marble island and pressing with her palms. “I trust him and he trusts himself.” She smiles proudly. “He just…He thinks he pushed himself and doesn’t feel comfortable with it around right now, and I support that.”
“I do too,” I assure her with my hand over hers. “We all do. And we’re all very proud of him. ”
“I love you,” she whispers.
“I love you too.” I squeeze her hand. “How is he?”
We rarely ever bring alcohol to Lana and Christian’s unless it’s with permission from one of them. It’s a boundary we don’t want to cross. We don’t want to be inconsiderate, even when Christian tells us it’s okay.
Lana grins, pride gleaming in her eyes. “He’s really good. He trusts himself, and I trust him. Just lately, he’s been…I don’t like to see him like that, Nat.”
I frown.
Lana sighs. “Anyway, he’s at the gym with Julian, so let’s just drink this and get rid of it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I nod just as the front door opens, the sound of shoes thudding on the floor as they are left at the entrance echoes through the house before we hear a singsong voice. “I’m here!”
The front door closes again as the missing part of our trio comes in with jeans and an oversized, white turtle-neck sweater. Her short, dark bob is half up, half down and her wispy bags are purposely messy in a cute way I’ll never know how to achieve. Curly hair isn’t for the faint of heart.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Isa asks, her brows pinched.
Lana and I blink at her. Lana puts her hands on her hips and I cross my arms. “You look suspiciously pretty,” she says.
Isabelle chuckles, a nervous, shaky sound as she toys with the hem of the turtle neck. “Nope. Just—I’m just naturally pretty, stop it.”
“Is Nicolas coming over?” I ask Lana, and she shrugs.
Isabelle shrugs too. “Doesn’t matter.”
“You used his full name, so—”
Isa groans. “What’s going on?”
Lana pulls out the corkscrew and punctures the cork of the giant bottle of chardonnay I brought with me. I look at Isa and say, “Rowan. Is. A. Sex. Machine.”
“Are you complaining or bragging?” Isa asks, chuckling and rounding the gorgeous marble island to search for wine glasses.
“Both!”
“Why!” Isabelle matches my frantic tone and Lana pours three glasses.
I groan and drop myself down on Lana’s couch, burying my face in my hands. “Because…it’s so good. Why is it so good?”
Isa and Lana share a knowing glance, leaving me out of the mix.
“What? What’s that look?”
“Oh, nothing,” Isa sings on a sigh. “Just…you and Rowan.”
Lana snickers across from her.
“What? What’s so fucking funny?”
They both start to laugh out loud at my misery.
“I am in distress!” I shout over their laughter. “Rowan is killing my vagina and you’re laughing!”
A throat clears and the laughter dies, my eyes widening to the point of pain as we all turn our heads.
Christian and Julian stand just opposite of the family room in their gym clothes, paper bags from Beetlejuice in hand.
I hide my glass and the bottle beneath our shared blanket and Isa is quick to do the same.
Lana hides her glass tumbler beneath her oversized hoodie.
“Oh! Hey, guys,” Isa says innocently.
“Hey, baby.” Lana smiles and reaches a hand toward him, waiting for his approach. Once he reaches her, they lock lips in a much more intimate way than I’ve ever kissed anyone, or at least anyone other than Rowan…
“I missed you.”
“I missed you,” Christian says back. “Julian and I brought dinner from Rowan’s.” My friends, and Julian, snicker. “If I had known he was a murderer—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Calloway!”
Christian laughs loudly. “I’ll set the table.”
Julian follows suit but not without adding, “Grace and the guys will be here soon. Including the…murderer.”
He mocks me with a gasp and I flip him off.
“How spooky,” Christian adds.
“Okay, okay!” Lana waves them off. “Go away now.”
Christian laughs before he says, “Love you.”
When the guys are gone, Lana takes a sip of her white wine.
Isabelle wags her brows with a mischievous grin and taps her fingertips against each other. “Your boyfriend is coming over.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mutter before finishing the wine in one gulp.
Lana snorts. “You remember that thing people used to tell kids? How little boys are mean to you because they like you?”
I roll my eyes.
“It’s an awful, toxic thing to tell kids, I know,” Lana continues. “But I think, right now, it might just apply to you.”
“He isn’t mean to me.”
“No, but you’re always teasing him,” Isa says. “Pulling his hair. Tossing him around. Roughing him up. No puns intended, of course. He seems to be roughing you up—”
Lana snorts.
“Are you both tipsy already?”
Lana gapes at me. “Don’t deflect, this is about you.”
“Yeah, shhh,” Isabelle echoes. “What’s so bad about a sex machine? Are you…You know…”
“Having orgasms?”
She nods, a pink tint in her cheeks.
“Well, yes.” The memories flash, making my core clench and body shudder. “Good ones. A lot of them. In a row.”
“How many?” Lana bounces in her seat excited. “Actually…maybe we shouldn’t know.” Her nose scrunches. “It’s Rowan.”
“I’m still curious,” Isa whispers.
“In one go?” Flashbacks hold me in a chokehold as I recount every time I’ve been with him. “Like…nine?”
Isabelle’s eyes widen.
Lana snorts. “Love that.”
“Nine?”
“It’s possible, Isa,” Lana says. “Very possible. Just the right amount of—”
“Anyway,” Isabelle squeaks, red as a cherry. “If it’s good and you’re happy…what’s going on then? What’s in your head?”
I shrug wearily, frowning into my glass of chardonnay. “I just think he likes me…”
“Obviously,” Lana mumbles over the rim of her glass. “He’s been in love with you since…forever.”
“He’d die for you,” Isabelle says. “Pretty sure.”
I shake my head when the front door opens again. This time, it’s Nico, with a jacket thrown over a gray Willow Springs Elementary Field Day hoodie, a baseball cap with light brown curls sticking out from underneath, and growing stubble.
Both Lana and I glance immediately at Isabelle who is turning tomato red.
“Hey, guys,” Nicolas says with a bright smile that is just for Isabelle. “Isa.”
“Hey,” she squeaks.
They share a quiet moment while Lana and I share wide-eyed, knowing expressions. Lana clears her throat first. “They’re in the kitchen, Nico.”
“Thanks, Lana.” He finally strides away toward the kitchen and Isabelle buries herself in the cushions.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she groans.
“What’s the matter, Isa?” I tease. “You have a crush?”
“Oh shut up,” Isa snaps, pouting. “You won’t even admit you have a crush.”
I gasp. “Too far.”
“I’m starving,” Lana mumbles, emptying the deep, round glass of wine. “There. The evidence is gone.”
Isabelle and I giggle. “So, are neither one of you going to help me with my Rowan problem?”
“I love you,” Isa says, “but him being a sex machine isn’t a problem until a condom breaks, your cervix bruises, or until you physically can’t ever have another orgasm.”
“And that is a tragedy.” Lana sighs.
“That can’t happen,” I grumble and empty my glass before pouring out some more. “Lana, help.”
She shrugs. “I’d love to, but I don’t think I’d be very helpful. When Christian came back I swear it was a sex marathon—I couldn’t get enough. Maybe…that’s how it’s supposed to be for you right now. I mean, you spent so much time pretending to hate him or whatever—”
I sigh, a deep rumble of frustration. “Just getting it out of my system.”
“At least you can admit that there was something in your system for him,” Isabelle says like a smart-ass, and I snarl in her direction.
Isabelle sticks her tongue out at me. “Zoom out, Nat. You have a tendency to get overwhelmed easily when you see too many things close up.”
“Yeah,” I mutter under my breath.
Rowan likes me, sure, but a crush is all I’ll allow myself to have at this point. However, a part of me wants to reconsider when the door opens again and it’s the blond man. The excitement in my belly flips when I see his face and the gold of his hair. Looking at him triggers a zoo of butterflies
Those are things I shouldn’t be feeling.
My problem is my head.
My problem is that I know I can’t be who he needs because of my head.
My bad days are…bad. And Rowan, the golden retriever of a man, deserves someone who can love him—like him when he needs to be liked the most. He needs someone who can provide the affection he craves as a human because Rowan Asher is an affectionate human.
He hands out his hugs to me like gifts—left and right, all the time.
I turn, and he’s there, providing some sort of comfort I don’t feel I can bring to the table. I can’t even bring it for myself.
If all my thoughts tell me I’m worthless and no one would miss me, I’m not convinced I’d make someone feel the opposite.
“Ladies.” Rowan smiles sweetly—innocently. No hint of the infamous sex machine with the filthy mouth.
My eyes drop to his lips, images of our trysts unfurling and making my core clench. It’s enough knowing how his mouth feels on me—my skin, my lips, between my legs. And his body atop of mine.
I sometimes wish I could give him all of that. More than this.
“Natalia,” he nearly purrs, my thighs pressing together in response.
“Hey,” I squeak.
Rowan holds up another paper bag like he’s baiting a hungry dog and addresses the three of us. “I brought your favorite starters.”
Isabelle gasps. “Mozzarella sticks and fried pickles?”
“Please tell me you brought mozzarella sticks,” Lana whines.
“A little bit of everything. Even the new calamari I’m thinking of adding to the menu.” He smiles proudly. “And, Lana, for always being our host, flowers from Miss Violet’s.”
Rowan reveals a small bouquet of yellow flowers from behind his back with a soft smile. Lana gasps quietly. “Rowan, they’re so pretty. Thank you.”
“Of course.” He smiles at all of us but lingers on me, the smile much less innocent. “I’ll go find the boys and leave you to…your girl talk.”
My cheeks heat and I look away, letting my curls fall over my face to hide. When he finally walks away, Lana and Isa squeal.
“I love love,” Isa sighs.
I whip back my hair and shoot her a look. “It’s not love, and if you love love, then your love is in the kitchen with the boys. Go get him.”
“Low, Natalia,” she grumbles. “Low.”
Lana laughs loudly, drunkenly. “You’re coming next weekend, right?”
“For…”
“Friendsgiving!” Isabelle shrieks.
There are some plans you wish you could cancel, and there are some plans you can push through. I have a habit of cancelling—always going to work or home to my beautiful, black cat. But for my girls, no matter how bad the day may be, I push through. I try to.
“Oh, yeah.” I nod, forcing the tips of my lips up. “Yes, obviously, I’m coming. I’m bringing pies.”
I make a note to remind myself later.
“Thank goodness.” Isa sighs. “I love your pies.”
I giggle at the praise. I love compliments on my pastries and baking, it’s hard not to. “I’ll bring several.”
“And a special one for me?” Isa asks.
“Fine.” I roll my eyes and she squeals.
“Come on, girls,” Lana says and swings her legs to help her stand up. “Let’s go eat.”