Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Rowan
I should’ve known, when the owner of the garage apartment postponed my tour of it for two days, it wasn’t going to work out.
It turned out she’d postponed because the sink had leaked everywhere, and she’d needed to clean it and let it dry.
Points for her for leveling with me, but there were multiple reasons I couldn’t raise my baby in that studio apartment, not even for a few weeks.
After my tour, I parked in the Rusty Anchor lot and sat in my car while I gulped down the rest of my PB-and-J lunch. As I ate, I pulled up the Tattler app again to see if there were any new listings since last night. Of course there weren’t. I did an internet search for rentals in Dragonfly Lake, but again, no miracles popped up.
When my sandwich was gone, I headed inside to get back to work. I was sick of worrying about my living situation. My afternoon work tasks would be a welcome distraction.
After throwing my coat and hat into my office, I grabbed the box of promotional materials from my table and went out to the second-floor public area so I could spread out and work faster.
Kemp had developed two special beers with a Valentine’s focus: Dark Desire, a chocolate stout, and a cherry wheat called Love Is the Pits. Not only did we have a fancy Valentine’s evening soiree to celebrate them, but Henry’s Restaurant would be pushing them hard throughout the month of February. I’d picked up the materials from the printer this morning, and now I needed to assemble the table toppers, prep the menu inserts, and take some photos of the two brews for social media.
I was halfway through the table toppers when I heard footsteps behind me.
“How’s it going?” Chance asked. Even though I’d suspected it was him, my heart tripped up at the sound of his voice.
“Good,” I said automatically, folding another topper and assembling it.
He picked up one of the table tents and looked at both sides, then nodded. He’d inspected them earlier today, so that wasn’t why he was here.
He sat on a stool at the table where I was working. I glanced up at him and smiled as I would at any of my coworkers. Damn if I didn’t get a jolt from how good-looking he was, just like I always did. I did my best to ignore the stupid reaction.
“How was the apartment?” he asked.
That was the real reason he’d come out.
I merely shook my head as images of the mildewy place filled my mind.
“Not good?”
“It was bad. Now I know why the rent is in my budget.” I put the topper on the adjacent table with the others and started on the next one. “It was old, drafty, and had enough water damage that I wouldn’t sleep there myself, let alone bring a baby in.”
“I’m sorry. I know you were hoping it would work.”
I looked up at him. “It’s nothing against you. Just…I was hoping to have my own space.”
“You’d have your own space in my house. Your room would be your castle.” He smiled and kept his tone light, but I didn’t feel light.
I felt trapped.
Chance glanced over his shoulder as if checking that we were alone. I knew we were. The acoustics of this room made it impossible to sneak in.
“Why are you fighting this so hard, Rowan? Help me understand.”
My emotions jumbled up in my throat, making it hard to speak. I didn’t want to get emotional, not over this. I spent so much of my time feeling overwrought and overwhelmed by feelings these days.
The baby alone was so much to absorb. Parenthood? Me? Right now? Who thought I was capable of being responsible for a child? I often felt like a child myself, particularly since all the people who’d raised me were now gone. If Gram were alive, I’d be so much more confident becoming a mom. She would’ve guided me through.
Grief seeped through cracks in the floodwall as it did multiple times a day, often when I least expected it. I steeled myself, patching up the crevasses, hoping they’d hold until I was alone at the inn tonight.
When I thought I could talk without crying, I kept my eyes on yet another topper, folding, assembling, fastening.
How much could I admit to him?
I trusted him with a lot. Maybe it was myself I didn’t trust enough.
Probably it was myself.
“You know I’m vulnerable right now. And by vulnerable, I mean an emotional train wreck.” I managed an upward tilt of my lips.
“Of course you are,” he said. His voice held compassion, understanding.
Focusing my gaze on the next topper, I continued, “I need to get my feet under me, Chance. Caring for my grandmother”—my voice wavered but I pushed through it—“I wouldn’t trade my time with her for anything. It was an extraordinary privilege to be the person she trusted to see her out of this realm. That probably sounds weird…” I shook my head, unable to explain any better what I felt from the depths of my soul.
“Not weird. I’ve never been in that position, but I sort of understand.”
I nodded, content with that. Relieved he didn’t make a face like I was nuts or ask me to explain it. “Anyway, it…took a lot out of me. I basically set myself aside to take care of her. Myself, my needs, my everything. Out of necessity. I don’t want sympathy,” I said in a rush. “Like I said, I chose to be there for her, and I’d make the same choice again.”
“I understand that, Rowan. I meant it when I said she was lucky to have you.”
I ignored that, determined to get the rest of my thoughts out in answer to his original question. “To get pregnant now…” I pressed my lips together and shook my head.
“Irony is a bitch, isn’t it?” He smiled as he said it, and I grinned too because, well, that was the truth, and I knew becoming a father again hadn’t been on his to-do list. Once again, if I didn’t laugh, I’d cry.
I was so tired of crying.
“You’re being amazing, Chance, and that’s part of the problem.”
He reared back, as if that wasn’t where he thought I’d go. “Explain that?”
I smiled to soften my answer. “You’re supportive and understanding.” Not to mention so damn good-looking. “You cooked me lunch, offered me a cheap place to stay. You ask how I’m feeling. You seem like the kind of guy who’d hold back a girl’s hair when she gets sick.”
His amused grin made me suspect he’d done that very thing at some point in his life.
“And I appreciate all of it,” I said. “But I’m also scared I’ll get too used to it.”
“So you’ll move in if I’m mean to you?” His dimple appeared.
I laughed lightly. “Please no. I appreciate your kindness.”
I set the assembled topper down. God help me, how did I say what I needed to say without saying exactly what I was afraid of—that I’d drift into a relationship with him because it was convenient and tempting to be cared for? I didn’t trust myself to make wise decisions for my own future right now.
“We’re already straddling this awkward connection of working together and expecting a baby,” I said quietly.
He nodded.
“If we live together, it’s going to get even messier.” I tapped my index finger on the table, searching for the right words. “Harder for me to stay clear-minded and make good decisions.”
“We’ll make decisions together,” he said.
“For the baby, yes.”
He studied me for several seconds, making me antsy. I picked up another topper and folded it.
“You don’t want more between us than co-parenting,” he finally guessed.
“Yes. Exactly.”
“We already agreed to that.”
I laughed dryly. “Chance. That coworkers-only thing was before there was a baby or living together in the mix.”
Understanding washed over his features. “Right. So you’re afraid the lines would be blurrier.”
“Aren’t you?”
“We’ll be going in with our eyes open. As long as we communicate, we’ll be fine. You’re not open to anything deeper, and neither am I. Nothing’s changed.”
“It would be easy for me to imagine there’s more between us than there is,” I finally said. “Because I’m a hot mess right now.”
“I wouldn’t take advantage of you.”
“I know.” I closed my eyes, because looking at this gorgeous man was not making it easier to make my point. “It’s me, Chance. Weak link.” I raised my hand. “I don’t want to learn to rely on you. I don’t want to develop feelings for you just because you’re amazing and I’m going through some things.”
After a moment, he sat up straighter and puffed out his chest. “You think I’m amazing?” A boyish grin stole over his face, and God .
That .
That look, that charm… that was trouble.
“Stop it,” I said, grinning in spite of myself.
“You said I’m amazing.”
“I might have overstated. How about, you’re not a douche.”
Chance threw his head back and laughed. “I want that on my tombstone. ‘He wasn’t a douche.’”
I screwed up my face. “Who wants a tombstone these days? Real estate is limited.”
“You have a point.” He laughed again then sobered. “Rowan, I’m still getting to know you, but from what I’ve seen, you’ve got an inner strength that’ll get you through, with or without me.”
Something in his words got through my thick skull and penetrated my gray matter. I knew it took a strong person to care for a loved one through dementia. It had tested me every day, was the absolute hardest thing I’d ever been through, but I’d made it. I liked to think I’d learned to be strong from my Gram.
She’d withstood the loss of an adult child. She’d stepped in to raise me when she was beyond child-rearing years and should’ve been enjoying a carefree empty nest. She’d weathered the death of her lifelong love in my grandfather. She’d grieved. Of course she’d grieved both her husband and her daughter. But she’d faced life with a quiet, tangible determination to make the most of what she still had.
If I said yes to moving in with Chance, I’d be going in with my eyes wide-open as he said. My guard up. I wasn’t stupid, and I wasn’t weak, thanks to the woman who’d raised me. I wouldn’t let myself drift into anything that wouldn’t be good for me or the baby.
I nodded, thinking it through, reasoning with myself. “Okay.” I drew in a deep, steady breath. “Okay. Yes, I’ll take you up on your generous offer on that spare bedroom. Thank you, Chance.”
A gorgeous smile broke out across his lips, almost making me retract my acceptance, until he said, “I’ll try to be a little less amazing.”
Laughing, I said, “Don’t you dare.”
Inside, I braced myself. Erected my walls a little higher. And told myself—over and over—I could resist my charming, kind-hearted baby daddy.