Chapter 19
Natalia
He’s kept his distance—painfully so. Painful for me, at least. He hasn’t spoken to me in several days, and I can’t really blame him, can I? Everything he said was the truth, and that’s why it hurt so badly when he left. Defeated, I cried myself to sleep.
He rushed to me because he was scared and in pain, and I somehow made it worse. I never want my sadness to be an imposition. And maybe that’s what I am to him too, just like everyone else.
They have other things they need to worry about; I should not be one of them.
So what if I went home after Friendsgiving and had…
thoughts. Everyone is okay. They should be okay.
They would be okay. After a while, life would go back to normal for everyone.
My dads would be able to travel more, my friends won’t have to make extra food for our gatherings.
At their weddings, they can pay for one less plate.
See? No impositions.
Why would I want to bleed on anyone else’s parade?
I’m beginning to think the emptiness in my chest will never fill. I wonder what it would feel like if it was whole, though. I wonder who I would be without the hollowness. My two best friends are like sunshine personified, and I hope that if this ever fades, I will be too.
Rowan knows me better than I’d like him to, even if he doesn’t know everything. And yes, it does terrify me because there are few people who do—my dads, Lana, and Isa included.
It’s just Rowan. He’s Rowan. Everyone deserves a Rowan, except me. Being with Rowan is like the sun coming out from behind the clouds during a devastating hurricane. Except, I’m the hurricane.
Even so, I miss him. Longing. Yearning. Burning. Missing. Those are the words for the tiny pricks of pain I’ve been feeling in my chest.
Because I miss him and feel terrible about my behavior, I’m parked outside of his small, comfortable home grabbing a tray of freshly baked cupcakes I made just for him.
I’ll always make his favorite flavors; I don’t think I’ll ever stop.
Even unconsciously my hands prepare the same ingredients every time I need a distraction from him.
That’s how I ended up with the red velvet coconut cupcakes in my hands.
I shake my limbs and stretch my neck out before shutting the car door with my hip and walking up the small path and three steps to his door.
Knock. Just knock. Knock!
I blow out a breath and lift my fist, but the door swings open before I can make contact and I see one of my favorite faces looking down at me with the most beautiful shade of blue eyes in the world.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” Rowan says quickly, followed by, “What’s wrong?”
“Why do you always ask me that before you ask me anything else?”
“Because I can tell when something is wrong, so I’m not going to ask how are you? just to have you lie to me.”
“I lie to you regardless, don’t I?” I try to joke.
Should not have said that.
Rowan frowns. “I guess so.” His voice is as cold as ice—a sharp icicle stabbing between my ribs. “Why are you here?”
I hold up the tray of freshly made, delicious cupcakes. “I made your favorite: coconut red velvet with the shavings on top.”
Rowan grunts his approval, his eyes examining the peace offering. He makes no move to allow me inside, and I don’t suppose he should.
“I’m not here for sex,” I blurt. “I just…I wanted to give you these. And say I’m sorry.”
His eyes flit to the cupcake then back to me. “Why are you sorry?”
“I…” I blink a few times. “I don’t… For treating you like—like a worthless booty call?”
He arches a brow. “Are you asking?”
“No—No. I’m sorry I treated you like a worthless booty call.”
Rowan huffs an incredibly quiet laugh before he sighs, his icy eyes melting. “I’m sorry for shouting the way I did. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“No, you told me the truth,” I murmur. “I needed to hear it. Um… and thank you. For helping.”
So, he isn’t going to let me in then. That’s fine. So fine. It’s good.
It’s good he isn’t letting me in. I don’t think I can be around him right now without wanting to fuck him to distract myself and settle whatever chaos is in my mind. To fill whatever emptiness I feel.
He’s right. Fuck. Damn him, he’s right.
“I was just….very overwhelmed. I didn’t mean to cry. I didn’t want you to see me cry,” I say quickly, my voice cracking. “And I didn’t cry to avoid the conversation. Everything you said is right. I just…It was a lot in the moment, and before you came over, I was feeling—I wasn’t—”
“Natalia—”
“Take them.” I shove the tray against his chest and his hand moves to catch the cupcakes. “Please.”
“Thank you,” he mutters and holds the cupcakes, examining them through the clear plastic shielding them.
“Look, um…” I toss my curls to the side then shake out my hands. “Tonight, come to The Black Cat.” His mouth opens to speak but I cut him off. “Please. I’m going to teach you how to make these. Your favorite chocolate croissants, too. And everything you want to bake.”
“Natalia,” he breathes. “I only—”
“I know you’re still upset with me but, Rowan…” I breathe shakily. “I know it’s unfair to ask anything of you, but please just come tonight.”
His eyes stare down at the dozen cupcakes in his hands—cupcakes I baked hoping we’d eat together and talk.
I hoped he’d let me into his house and kiss me.
Maybe he’d tell me it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay and that he’ll be by my side even when my head plays tricks on me.
When my mind tells me that I hate everything and everything hates me.
Maybe he’ll tell me he will be the only thing that will never hate me.
False hope, I suppose.
“What time?” Rowan rasps.
I hadn’t thought of that. “Um…” I take a quick glance at my phone, tapping the screen to check the time. “Nine. So in four hours.”
“Four hours?”
I nod. “After closing. I’ll clean everything, just meet me there.”
The breath he takes is deep and long, and it sounds like he might even hate me. And he could. And if he does, how do I go on? If Rowan Asher hates me, then I’ll hate myself even more.
His eyes stay locked with mine and I know he’s the only one who can see right through me. Out of everyone, Rowan sees right through me.
It’s as terrifying as it is wonderful, but some days I can’t decide which one it feels like.
“Okay,” he breathes, his shoulders relaxing. His reaction allows me to relax too. “I’ll be there.”
“You’re angry,” I blurt, shifting on my feet.
“I’m not angry, Natalia,” Rowan whispers gently.
“Right, well…” I chuckle breathlessly—nervously. I don’t know what to do with myself, with my hands. I really just want to reach for him and touch him—find solace in the way his arms wrap around me and give me shelter. “Later tonight?”
The blue of his eyes soften and his lips tip upward. “Yes, sweetheart.”
My heart does a silly little flutter and I return the small smile.
I could never hate him, but he’ll eventually hate me.