Chapter Thirteen #2
Inside her car, she let out a long, slow breath as she remembered Evie sleeping soundly against her shoulder, how natural it felt, how normal. Something inside her quietly told her that Evie was feeling the same way: familiar, comfortable…
A literal shake of her head to dislodge those thoughts, and she started the car and headed home.
For the next two weeks, Rowan spent a large chunk of her time at Evie’s place or with Evie in some way. They shared lunch here and there. They did movie nights. Rowan even took her to one of her doctor’s appointments. And they texted. A lot.
September had shown up on a bit of a cold front to let everybody know that fall was on its way.
The humidity broke, and a lovely autumn breeze arrived, dropping the temperatures by a good fifteen degrees.
Still comfortable out, but not stifling, and the scent of earth and leaves began to filter into the air.
Rowan took a deep breath as she got out of her car.
She’d parked out front, as there was a second car in Evie’s driveway.
She was wondering whose it was when Evie’s front door opened and Claire came out, shutting it behind her.
She was down the steps and halfway across the yard before she glanced up to see Rowan and stopped in her tracks.
“Hey,” Rowan said, forcing a smile because Claire was certainly not wearing one.
Her brow was furrowed in a V above her nose, and the corners of her mouth were turned down.
She tipped her head to the side and stared at Rowan.
Just stared at her. Rowan stopped halfway to the front steps, and the two of them stood there like they were in some kind of weird yard stand-off.
“I never should’ve brought her to the lake house,” Claire said. Her voice was quiet, but her tone bordered on icy.
“I’m sorry?”
“I mean, I didn’t know you were going to be there, but I guess I should’ve thought about it at least being a possibility.”
Rowan shook her head. “I don’t follow.”
Claire blew out a breath, clearly annoyed by that. “If I hadn’t brought her there, she wouldn’t have seen you.” She grimaced the last word as if it tasted sour in her mouth.
Rowan flinched at her tone and opened her mouth to reply—though she wasn’t exactly sure what to say—
“The perfection of Rowan,” she went on, saving Rowan the trouble.
“Nobody could ever compare. Didn’t matter how hard they tried.
They could take care of her, bring her things, take her places, be there for her in every sense of the word, but if they’re not Little Miss Perfect, they are only allowed in so far. ”
Rowan’s shock was so thick, she felt like her blood had turned to syrup, heavy and slow-moving, keeping her feet riveted to the grass under her shoes. “Claire, I—”
“If I’d just talked her out of the lake house trip, she never would’ve run into you.
” Claire was shaking her head now, looking off toward the street, and Rowan got the sense that Claire wasn’t even talking to her any longer.
She was simply talking. “And we would’ve gone along, the two of us, and you wouldn’t have been on her mind as much anymore.
” Then she did look back at Rowan, her eyes flashing with several emotions.
Anger was the prominent one, but there was also sadness.
Disappointment. Pain. “She was almost over you, you know.” She held up her thumb and forefinger, scant millimeters apart.
“She was this close.” She dropped her hand and looked off toward the street again.
“So close. And then we got to the lake house, and there you fucking were. I could practically feel her backsliding, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do about it. ”
For a moment, Rowan put herself in Claire’s position and felt…
compassion? Maybe. But also awkwardness.
“You’re in love with her,” she said. Not asked—said, because she already knew, had known since she saw them at the lake house.
Even longer than that. It was pretty evident if you just watched the way Claire was around Evie.
Claire rolled her eyes. “Fucking duh.” She shook her head and glanced down at her shoes, and when she looked back up, her eyes were wet. “But I’m not you.”
Oof. Rowan had zero idea what to say. This whole conversation—could it be called a conversation if she’d barely participated?—had caught her off guard. Claire was in love with Evie, fucking duh, but Evie was…what was she? Not in love with her, Rowan knew, because she’d asked.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Claire said quietly. She held Rowan’s confused gaze for a beat before turning away and hurrying to her car. She started the engine, backed out, and pulled away while Rowan continued to stand there, blinking and dazed, wondering what had just happened.
“I mean, I know what just happened,” she whispered into the evening air. “I just…don’t know what just happened.” She squinted toward the street where Claire’s car had been and took a moment to collect herself. Then she turned, headed up Evie’s front steps, and rang the doorbell.
It took several moments before the door opened, and though Evie smiled at her and looked happy to see her, there was a shadow in her eyes. “Hi,” she said and stepped aside. “Come on in.” She glanced past Rowan as if checking the street. “You just missed Claire.”
Rowan shook her head. “No, I saw her.” She hung up her bag and faced Evie. “You okay?”
Evie indicated her face. “That bad, huh?”
Rowan gave a soft laugh. “Not at all. A little tired maybe.”
A nod. “Story of my life these days.” They stood there for a moment before Evie said, “What?”
“Do you want to go for a ride?” It was spontaneous, but Rowan had the sudden sense of wanting to get Evie out of the house, out into the fresh air.
“It’s a gorgeous evening, not too hot, not too cold.
There’s a nice breeze, the sky is clear.
We could get some ice cream or some coffee or something…
” She let her voice drift off as Evie took in her suggestions.