Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
ROWAN
I wake up earlier than usual, the sky still dark beyond the window, the mountains nothing more than soft shadows against a midnight blue horizon.
Normally, I’d be outside by now, sitting on Hayden’s front porch with a mug of coffee warming my hands, watching the sun creep up over the peaks. It’s become one of my favorite rituals.
But this morning, I stay put.
I’m not ready to face Hayden. Not after last night.
Not after that kiss.
God. That kiss.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. It’s still there, the feel of his mouth against mine, warm and firm and desperate, like he’d been holding his breath for a year and finally let himself inhale. The way he held me. The way my entire body responded to him.
I’ve kissed plenty of men.
But I’ve never been kissed like that.
There was grief in it. And guilt. And longing so sharp it felt like it might slice us both open if we weren’t careful.
But for one suspended, beautiful moment, I didn’t care. I kissed him back without thinking about consequences or boundaries or dead wives whose hearts beat in my chest.
Instead, I let myself feel.
And it was everything I didn’t realize I’ve been missing since I drove away in my van.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, exhaling slowly in an attempt to push down the unease about the situation.
Tomorrow will be easier.
Tomorrow, there will be kids. Schedules. Distractions.
Today, I need some dog therapy.
The shelter smells like wet fur and happiness that’s been waiting patiently for a second chance.
I sign in, greet one of the shelter employees at the desk, and get paired with a spotted brown mutt who looks like he’s part terrier, part something else entirely, and one hundred percent thrilled to be alive and about to get some much-needed fresh air.
“Ready for an adventure?” I ask Sergeant Puppers, clipping on his leash.
His tail thumps like it’s trying to break free of his body.
Same, buddy.
Sycamore Falls is fully committed to Christmas now — garland strung between lampposts, wreaths on every door, twinkle lights framing every building. Store windows glow, and people actually stop to strike up a conversation.
Back in Chicago, I could walk for miles without anyone noticing I existed.
Here, locals ask about my day. About how I’m enjoying Sycamore Falls. About the kids.
It’ll make it difficult to leave this place when the time comes.
And it will come.
It has to.
This isn’t my home.
But is Chicago?
I’m not quite sure anymore.
After navigating through the sidewalks of the downtown area, I steer Sergeant Puppers onto a side street, allowing him to sniff any and everything that makes him happy. Who knows when he’ll get the chance to go for a walk again.
As he follows his nose, we eventually end up outside a set of iron gates that open to a cemetery on a hill.
Every instinct tells me to turn around. To keep walking. To mind my own business. Instead, I allow the dog to pull me inside.
I walk slowly, reading names and dates, unsure what I’m looking for.
At least that’s what I tell myself, even though I wonder if she’s buried here. So as I meander along the paved path, I keep an eye out for any markers bearing the last name Lawrence.
I find Ryan Lawrence first. Died fifteen years ago. This must be Hayden’s father. He hasn’t spoken about him all that much, but Dylan mentioned he passed away when she was only ten.
I touch the cool stone, saying a silent prayer for a man I’ve never met, then continue on. A few rows later, I find yet another Lawrence.
Aspen Lawrence.
Who lived only two days.
My eyes burn with unshed tears over a life that never had a chance to become anything else.
Then I see it.
Large. Ornate. Impossible to miss.
Fresh roses rest against it, the red hue stark against the gray stone.
I approach slowly, my heart pounding with every step I take until I’m standing directly in front of it. I run my fingers over the letters of her name, my thoughts a jumbled mess. As if it wasn’t enough to stare at a life-sized portrait of her yesterday. Now I’m standing in front of her headstone.
Still, like everything else in my life, I’m confident there’s a reason I found this cemetery when I wasn’t looking. Like some bigger force brought me to this exact spot.
“You don’t know me, and I have no idea why I’m here.”
My voice doesn’t shake, which surprises me.
“Maybe it’s selfish. Or maybe the universe is weird and likes irony.” I huff out a breath. “I’m Hayden’s nanny. Well, Presley and Jemmy’s nanny. And they’re kind of amazing.” A small smile tugs at my mouth.
“Presley’s art is unreal. When I was her age, I could barely manage a stick figure.
But she notices things most adults don’t.
When she draws, it’s like she’s capturing how things feel, not just how they look.
She’s going to do amazing things. I can feel it.
And Jemmy…” I shake my head as a laugh escapes.
“He’s obsessed with dinosaurs. Like, truly believes he is one. Bath time involves a lot of roaring. Loud, very convincing roaring. I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t complained.”
I pause, as my smile fades into something gentler. Something sadder.
“They love their dad so much,” I say softly. “They light up the second he walks into a room, even when he doesn’t realize it. Or maybe because he doesn’t think he deserves it.”
I swallow, my gaze dropping to the roses at the base of the stone, wondering if he left them for her.
“He’s kind and patient and exhausted in this quiet way that breaks my heart. He praises Presley’s art like it belongs in the Louvre. He lets Jemmy climb all over him like he’s a jungle gym, even when he’s clearly running on fumes.”
I glance at the gray sky, recalling our conversation last night. Everything he shared with me. The pain, the anguish, the blame. I feel the weight of it.
“He thinks he failed them. Failed you.” My voice drops. “Blames himself for what happened to you. And the weight of that blame…” I push out a quivering exhale through the ache slowly building in my throat.
“I think he’s convinced he doesn’t deserve to feel anything good again.
That he doesn’t deserve to be happy. But if anyone does, it’s him.
And I know this is wrong. Know I shouldn’t be telling you all these things, considering you were his wife.
But when I’m with him, when I see him smile…
a part of me wants to be the reason he smiles.
And I hate myself a little for noticing him.
For the way my chest tightens when I see him, or the way I want to reach for him when he looks like he’s drowning in his own thoughts. In his guilt.”
I press my lips together, breathing through the emotions overwhelming me as I think of Hayden.
“He deserves peace. And I wish… I wish he could forgive himself. Even a little.” I stare into the distance, smiling sadly before clearing my throat.
“But I’m not here to tell you about Hayden.
I’m not sure why I am here. I guess I just wanted to say thank you.
If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be alive.
” I press my hand to my chest, relishing in the steady thumping of my heart.
Her heart.
“I promise I’ll take care of them for you. All three of them.”
I touch my hand to the stone once more. Then I turn my attention back to Sergeant Puppers. “In the mood for a pup cup?”
He barks, enthusiastic and entirely unburdened. Truth be told, I feel slightly unburdened, too. Like sharing my thoughts and feelings with Cora’s gravestone lightened my own emotional load.
With a firm grip on the leash, I start back the way we came, the cemetery still empty.
Except for a woman with almost white hair standing by Ryan Lawrence’s headstone.
Hayden’s mom.
I lower my head, attempting to slip past without her noticing me, not sure how I’ll explain my presence in a cemetery. But then I hear her voice.
“Rowan? Is that you?”
I stiffen, cursing under my breath before facing her, feigning surprise at seeing her. “Mrs. Lawrence.”
“I told you. Call me Danielle.”
She approaches and wraps me in a warm hug. I can’t remember the last time my own parents showed me affection like this. Yet this woman who is practically a stranger does.
“What are you doing here?” she asks as she pulls back.
I part my lips, struggling to come up with an explanation.
Visiting my boss’s dead wife whose heart now beats inside my chest seems like…a lot.
“I’ve always found cemeteries interesting,” I say dismissively. “That’s not too morbid, is it?”
“Not at all. There’s so much history here.” She gestures toward a small hill in the distance, two massive oak trees standing like sentinels guarding a cluster of weathered, slanted stones. “That’s where the founders of this town are buried. A lot of families are, actually. Generations worth.”
My gaze drifts back to the headstone she’d been standing in front of moments ago.
“Is that your husband?” I ask gently.
“Yes.” Her smile turns a little wistful but doesn’t fade. “I like stopping by every so often. Updating him on how the kids are doing. That way, it doesn’t feel like he’s missing out on everything.”
“Do you think he hears you?”
“I like to think so,” she says after a moment’s contemplation. “I know it might sound strange and a little woo-woo, but after I tell Ryan what’s been on my mind, I feel…lighter. Less burdened.”
I nod, knowing all too well how that feels.
It’s how I feel right now, too.
“Well…” I adjust the leash in my hand. “I should probably get back. I promised this little man a pup cup before bringing him back to the shelter.” I nod toward Sergeant Puppers. “I’m sure I’ll see you sometime this week.”
I head down the path leading toward the gate.
“What are your plans this afternoon?” Danielle calls out, stopping me.
I face her. “I’m not really sure yet.”
Which is true. I’d considered checking out the Christmas Festival at Holley Ridge, since everyone in town seems to be buzzing about it, but I haven’t made any concrete plans, aside from avoiding Hayden at all costs.
“If you’re not busy later, it’s Second Sunday.”
I tilt my head. “Second Sunday?”
“It’s a tradition I started a few years ago now that all my kids are grown and out of the house.
I host a family get-together on the second Sunday of every month.
Lots of food. Wine. Beer. It can get a little loud and chaotic,” she adds with a grin, “but it’s my favorite day of the month. I’d love for you to join us.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your family time.”
“Which is exactly why you should be there,” she says without missing a beat. “You’re part of this family now, too.”
I haven’t felt like I was part of a family in a while.
You’d think when I was in the hospital, my parents would have visited me more often.
My father had his personal assistant send flowers, but I could count on one hand the number of times either of them actually stopped by to see me.
And when I told my father I was quitting the law firm to travel the country in a van, he thought I’d lost my mind.
He didn’t understand how nearly dying could have changed my perspective on life. He figured I’d be happy to jump right back into my so-called career of working eighty hours a week in the hopes of becoming a junior partner in the next few years. Because that’s what he did.
“I should probably check with Hayden to make sure he’s okay with it.”
Danielle waves a dismissive hand. “Who cares what he says? I’m inviting you.” Her expression softens. “I hate the idea of you being left out. And it’s not just immediate family. You’ve met Dylan’s roommate, Claire, right?”
I nod. “We met up for a drink last weekend.”
“She’ll be there, too. Along with a few other family friends. Everyone’s welcome at my table.”
I open my mouth to protest again, but then I remember my rule to say yes, even if it scares me a little.
“Thank you, Danielle,” I say finally. “I’d love to come. Do you need me to bring anything?”
“Just yourself,” she responds with a wink, already turning away. “I’ll see you later.”
I watch her walk off between the rows of headstones, cursing my year of yes for the first time.
So much for having a day without seeing Hayden.