Chapter 37
thirty-seven
The next couple of days are... weird. After what happened with Rowan in the shed, we walked home in silence. Once we reached the top of the stairs, he made a sound like he was going to try to say something, but I cut him off as I hurried over to unlock my front door.
“Have a good night. For what it’s worth, it was actually kind of fun. We’ll talk... later?”
Then I hurried into my loft, quickly shutting the door behind me, leaving him standing in the hallway alone. Just a few more days and we’ll be on a plane to L.A. Together. And I’ll be staying at his house with him. Alone. Just the two of us.
What happened in the shed scared the shit out of me. Feelings I haven’t wanted to feel: love and longing. Memories I’ve tried so hard to forget: childhood adoration and secret schoolgirl sighs, have practically crushed my aversion for him into itty-bitty pieces.
Not to mention he was right on point with the whole: “Does being chased get you hot? Or is it the getting caught that’s got you all worked up?” tumbling out of his stupid, sexy mouth.
I’ve been alternating between trying my best to avoid him and overthinking everything that has happened between us since he came home. When I’m alone at night, my fingers trace the places his mouth has touched me, and I hate myself and him for wanting more.
Okay. Maybe I’ve never actually hated him. I’ve tried. I really have. But having him in my orbit again is making it damn near impossible.
But I digress.
This morning, I finally virtually signed the NDA his lawyer emailed. I didn’t really pay attention to the logistics. Despite everything he’s done, when it comes to the details of our arrangement, I trust him.
My phone pings.
LOGAN
Ready for family dinner tonight?
Shit. I forgot.
My bells are on.
LOGAN
Weirdo.
Learned from the best.
LOGAN
Rowan is coming. Maybe you two could ride together?
If I didn’t know any better…
Are you playing matchmaker now or something?
I stare down at my phone, waiting for his response. He’s probably grinning like an idiot right now.
Jerkface.
LOGAN
Just looking out for the environment.
Bull. Shit.
LOGAN
Mom’s making lasagna.
Dammit. Lasagna is my favorite.
Way to deflect, brother.
Logan knows exactly how to play me. My stomach grumbles at the mere thought of our mom’s lasagna with its perfectly crispy, cheesy edges and gooey center.
Fine. I’ll text him.
I navigate to Rowan’s contact, my thumb hovering over the screen and take a deep breath.
Family dinner tonight. Lasagna. Wanna carpool?
His response comes almost instantly.
ROWAN
Sure. I should be done here on set by five.
*thumbs up emoji**
I’ve barely finished pulling up my jeans when there’s a knock on my door.
“Coming!” I yell, yanking on my combat boots and giving myself a quick once-over in the mirror. My hair is kind of a mess, but there’s no time to fix it now.
I swing open the door to find Rowan wearing dark jeans and a navy Henley stretching perfectly across his upper body. His hair is artfully tousled, and he smells really fucking good, damn it.
“Ready?” he asks as his eyes scan me from head to toe.
“Yeah, just a sec.” Quickly, I turn away in a hopeless attempt to ignore the way my body is reacting to his proximity and grab my jacket.
Two minutes later, we’re headed down the stairs and outside, keeping a careful distance between us. The evening air is crisp, making me pull my leather jacket tighter around me.
“Mind if we take my Jeep?” I ask, nervously swinging my keys around on my finger.
“Nope,” he says with a shrug.
As he climbs into the passenger seat, I slide behind the wheel, grateful for something else to focus on besides the man sitting next to me. The engine roars to life, and I crank up the heat before backing up and out.
The sun is hanging low, casting long shadows across the road. We’ve got maybe thirty minutes before sunset hits, and the temperature has dropped significantly since this morning.
Neither of us mentions what happened in the shed, the elephant in the car growing bigger with every passing mile.
“So,” I finally say, desperate to break the silence. “How’s filming going?”
“Good,” he replies, staring out the window. “We’re ahead of schedule now, actually.”
“That’s... great.”
More silence.
“I take it your mom still makes the best lasagna in the world?” he asks a couple of minutes later.
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. “What do you think?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Remember when we tried to surprise her on Mother’s Day by making it ourselves?”
“God, what a disaster.” I grin despite myself. “We set off the smoke alarm and Logan almost fell off the chair trying to get rid of the smoke.”
“Your dad was so pissed about the mess.”
“But he still ate it.”
“He’s always been a brave man.”
The tension eases a bit as we drive.
“So, you all packed for tomorrow?” he asks.
I can feel his eyes on me, the smell of his cologne doing all kinds of crazy things to my lady parts.
“Pretty much. Just need to pack a few last-minute things.”
“Don’t forget. Flight’s at seven, so we should leave around four.”
I groan. “Remind me why it has to be so early again?”
“Less chance of being spotted.” I can still feel him looking at me. “You’ll be able to sleep on the plane.”
“In those tiny seats?” I snort. “Not likely.”
“First class has sleeping pods,” he says with a smirk. “So you can lie down. The flight is only about two and a half hours.”
“I thought only planes that fly overseas had those.”
“I think it’s a layover flight to Europe or something.”
A sense of nostalgia hits when the familiarity of my parent’s porch light flickering and the ceramic gnome collection my mom refuses to part with comes into view as we pull into the driveway.
Logan’s truck is parked slightly crooked as usual. Pretty sure my brother has never parked straight a day in his life.
“Looks like he beat us here,” Rowan says, unbuckling his seatbelt.
I kill the engine and sit for a moment, hands gripping the wheel. “Hey,” I say before he can open his door. “About the other night...”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says quickly, his eyes finding mine in the dim light. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“I just...” I trail off, not sure what I even want to say.
That I can’t stop thinking about it?
How terrified I am of how easily I gave in?
But before I can continue, the front door swings open, spilling warm light onto the porch as Logan steps out with a crooked grin.
Jerkface.
“Saved by the bell,” I mutter, pushing my door open. “Let’s just... keep things normal tonight, okay? No extra PDA. Let’s not freak my parents out just yet.”
Rowan nods, his expression unreadable. “Whatever you say, Sunshine.”
“And definitely don’t call me that,” I grumble.
As soon as we step inside, the scent of cheesy lasagna, and freshly baked bread wafts under my nose, making my stomach growl.
“Hey you two!” my mom calls from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her eyes light up at the sight of us side by side, and I know exactly what she’s thinking.
Great. The last thing I need is my mother getting in on the matchmaker business.
“Hey, Ma,” I say, stepping up to give her a quick hug.
“Janelle,” Rowan says warmly, accepting her embrace with a genuine smile that makes my heart do stupid little flips. “Smells amazing.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” she beams. “Have a seat in the living room. Your father’s already opened the wine.”
The house is exactly as it’s always been: warm, slightly cluttered, and filled with family photos. My eyes catch on one particular frame as we head into the living room. It’s me and Rowan, sitting on a branch next to the treehouse, legs dangling in the air as we grin at each other.
I quickly look away.
“There’s my baby girl,” my dad crows. “Hey, son. Good to see you.”
The genuine delight in my father’s eyes as he claps Rowan on the shoulder makes something twist in my stomach.
Shaking it off, I take the glass of wine my dad hands me and take a long, grateful sip.
“Okay, fam. Dinner is ready,” my mom calls.
We all head into the dining room and settle in at the table.
No less than a minute after all of our plates are filled with food, Logan goes and opens his big mouth.
“So,” he grins around a mouthful of garlic bread, “how’s the fake relationship going so far?”
The whole table immediately falls silent.
My shocked intake of breath causes me to choke on a bite of pasta when it goes down the wrong pipe.
Rowan immediately drops his fork and shifts in his seat to pat my back while I cough uncontrollably. “You okay?” he asks softly.
“What the hell, Logan?” I manage to wheeze. Shooting daggers at my brother, I shift and shrug away from Rowan’s touch. His sigh is subtle as he picks up his fork.
My mom releases the serving spoon with a clatter as my dad’s fork freezes halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean, ‘fake relationship’?”
“It’s nothing,” I mumble, trying desperately to salvage the situation. “Logan’s just being an idiot.”
But my brother, the absolute traitor, leans in with a smirk. “Oh, come on, sis. They’re going to find out eventually. Might as well tell them about your little arrangement.”
“Logan,” Rowan warns, his voice dropping an octave.
“What arrangement?” My dad’s eyes narrow as he carefully sets his fork down on his plate.
Scenes of blood, murder, and mayhem flash through my mind. Seriously, it’s a full-on episode of Dexter up in this bitch right now. But before I can dive across the table and strangle my twin to death, Rowan’s hand lowers to squeeze my thigh.
Clearly enjoying our discomfort, Logan continues, “Turns out, our little Lizzy here agreed to be Rowan’s fake girlfriend to help him clean up his image.”
My mom’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh! So you two are hanging out again?”
“Mom, it’s not—”
“I always knew you two would find your way back to each other!” She clasps her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “You two spent so much time together after graduation before Rowan left for California.”
She turns to look at my father. “Remember, Justin? They were always hanging out, thick as thieves. Just like when they were little.”
“I remember,” my dad says gruffly, eyes darting between us with growing suspicion.
“It’s not like that,” I insist, though my face is burning. “It’s just... business.”
“Business that involves PDA?” Logan asks all innocent and shit.
Dick.
I kick him hard under the table, a satisfied grin splitting across my face when he winces.
“PDA?” my mom parrots, her smile growing impossibly wider.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, burying my face in my hands.
“It’s just part of the arrangement,” Rowan explains, keeping his voice steady despite the tension. He is a great actor after all. “We need it to look convincing.”
“And how long is this ‘arrangement’ supposed to last?” my dad asks, folding his arms across his chest.
“Six months to a year,” Rowan replies, meeting my father’s gaze head-on.
My dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s a long time to fake a relationship.”
“Ugh. Dad—”
“Sometimes things that start out as fake become all too real,” my mom cuts in with a knowing smile. “Just like in those smutty romance books you like to read, honey.”
Pretty sure I want to melt into the floor. Definitely want to throttle Logan. Maybe both.
“We’re flying out to L.A. tomorrow,” Rowan announces, clearly trying to steer the current subject’s trajectory elsewhere.
Mom’s eyes widen. “For how long?”
“Just the weekend,” I mutter, pushing my lasagna around on my plate. “Rowan has some meetings, and I’m... tagging along.”
“And staying at his house,” Logan adds with a smirk.
This time I kick him so hard he yelps.
“Ow! Jesus, Iz!”
“Kids,” my dad warns, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Behave.”
“And you’re staying with Rowan?” my mom asks hopefully.
Fuck’s sake. She’s practically quivering with delight.
“In the guest room,” I clarify quickly, shooting her a look that says, ‘Don’t start.’
The mischievous twinkle in her eye tells me she’s not buying it for a second. “Of course,” she shrugs innocently as she takes another bite of her lasagna.
Rowan clears his throat. “Actually, there’s a gallery owner I want Lizzy to meet. He’s interested in her work.”
This catches my parents’ attention. More than grateful for the deflection, my heart softens towards him a little more.
“Really?” My dad’s expression softens as his gaze flicks from narrowly eyeing Rowan to look at me. “That’s fantastic, baby girl.”
“It’s nothing set in stone,” I say, heat creeping up my neck. “It’s a dream I’ve thought about pursuing. Just not the way it’s currently playing out.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Rowan says, voice warm as he exchanges a look with my brother. “He was really impressed with what he saw online.”
The genuine pride in his voice makes something flutter in my chest.
Damn him and his gorgeous fucking face.
“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” my mom declares, refilling our wine glasses. “A weekend in L.A., and a gallery interested in your work—sounds like things are really looking up for you, sweetie.”
If she only knew what happened the other day in the shed. The thought makes me wince into my lasagna.
“You okay there, sis?” Logan snarks with faux concern. “You look like you swallowed a bug.”
“Just fine, brother,” I glare. “How are you and Reyna?”
“Reyna? Who’s Reyna?” my mother trills.
Logan stops chewing and immediately shuts down. “No one,” he grumbles before ducking his head, tucking into his food.
Rowan snickers into his wineglass as my dad clears his throat, fixing him with a serious look. “So this arrangement. What exactly does it entail?”
“Public appearances,” he explains, meeting my dad’s steady gaze head on. “Some social media posts. Making it look like we’re dating so I can clean up my image for a directing gig I’m after.”
“And what happens when it’s over?” he counters.
The question hangs in the air, and I find myself holding my breath as I wait for Rowan to answer.
“Hopefully, I can gain back her trust and we can part as friends.”