Chapter 33
Rowan
Everyone disappeared this Christmas. Lana and Christian are spending it in their penthouse in New York after Lana said she wanted to see New York snow—as if she doesn’t see enough here every winter.
Isabelle and Luca have gone to their family’s house for the long weekend, Julian and Grace are at his parents, and Nico has the week to himself, but is busy working from home.
As for me, I’m alone at home with my sitcoms. And as for Natalia, she’s in her apartment alone, with Binx and potentially a Halloween movie or a nineties rom-com. That’s why I park behind her car and grab the bottle of wine and meals I cooked for each of us from my passenger seat.
I walk across the street, snow crunching beneath my boots with each impending step I take toward the front door of her apartment building.
As a courtesy of showing up uninvited, I’m wearing my comfiest pajama pants and crewneck under my jacket. On the key-pad, I type in her apartment number, 3B, and let it ring.
“Who is it?” Natalia asks through the intercom.
“It’s me,” I say. “Rowan.”
There’s a moment of static before she asks, “What are you doing here?”
I imagine her expression in my mind, her long lashes batting as she blinks at me with those hazel eyes.
“It’s Christmas eve,” I say. “And it’s cold. Let me in.”
The static stops suddenly and there’s a moment of silent hesitation that I feel from down here. Another few seconds and finally the door buzzes, unlocking the front doors. I take the elevator with butterflies in my stomach.
I wanted to see her—spend this holiday with her and make her smile—so that is what I’m doing. I’m so fucking happy.
The elevator doors glide open on the third floor and I find her door instantly. I knock with the knuckles wrapped around the bottle of wine and it’s only a second before the door swings open.
She stands there, barefoot with an oversized sweater that fits like a dress, legs bare, and fuzzy socks up past her ankles.
Her hazel eyes beam up at me in a way that plays tricks on my poor heart and her pouty lips are pulled in a closed-lipped smile.
Her bare face is glowing, all seventeen freckles sparkling like constellations.
And her hair—straightened for the first time in a year.
“Wow, you—”
Natalia pushes a long strand of hair behind her ear. “You like it?”
“Yeah—Yes,” I say. “Both. I love both. Your curly hair is just as beautiful as this.”
“I sometimes straighten it for holidays, just because I don’t ever do anything else to it. And…Yeah, I don’t know why I did it—I’m not going anywhere.”
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” I say, and a dash of pink colors her cheeks.
“Come in,” she says, grabbing the bags from my hands as I follow her in.
“How’s your Christmas so far, gorgeous?” I ask as I remove my shoes and jacket.
“Better now, I think,” she says quietly, a small smile on her closed lips. She sets the bags on her small granite island and I join her in the kitchen. “I did my hair this morning, called my dads, and I made my boxed mac and cheese.”
I huff a laugh. “You know I would have come and made it for you.”
She feigns offense with her hand over her chest. “I’m a self-sufficient woman.”
I grin. With her, I’ll be grinning for the rest of my life. I bring myself closer to her, backing us against her kitchen counter. “Well, I am not a self-sufficient man, because I need you all the time.”
She snorts. “We seem to always find ourselves in compromising positions in the kitchen.”
I shrug, both my mouth and shoulders, and wrap my arms around her waist. “Makes sense.”
“Hmm.” She brings her palms to my heart then smoothes them up my body until her hands are in my hair. “How is your Christmas so far?”
“Better now, I think,” I say and her eyes sparkle, a smile growing on her lips. I kiss the tip of her freckled nose. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”
“Merry Christmas, Rowan.”
I smile again. “I brought you a gift.”
Her grin matches mine now. “You did?”
I nod. “You have ketchup in your fridge?”
Her eyes round, bright and alive. “Always do.”
I let her go so she can grab the necessities from the fridge—ice cold sodas and a bottle of ketchup.
Leaving the essentials on the island in front of her, I grab our glasses and fill them with our soda.
Natalia opens the ketchup bottle and uses two hands to squeeze more than enough out of it, and until it makes a fart sound that makes her giggle.
“Ketchup farts are always funny,” she whispers, red creeping in her cheeks. “Sorry.”
“You’re right.” I slide her glass toward her. “They’re always funny.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“If you think it’s funny”—I shrug—“then it’s funny.”
Her lip curls and she reaches for a mozzarella stick. “You’re annoying.”
I chuckle and take a sip of my soda.
“Tell me a secret,” I whisper and she dips the mozzarella stick into the ketchup once, twice.
“I’m scared that one day I’ll be lactose intolerant and won’t be able to eat these anymore,” she says so unbelievably serious that I gape at her just a bit. “I know that sounds like a joke, but I’m serious, Rowan. Imagine how sad that would be.”
A roar of laughter unleashes from me and I have to cover my mouth to keep from accidentally spitting over the food and across her face.
“Stop.” Natalia laughs. “I’m serious! Don’t be mean!”
“I’m not being mean.” I laugh, my stomach sore. “I’m sorry. I just…wasn’t expecting that.”
“Whatever. Now you tell me a secret,” she says after rolling her eyes, a smile still on her lips.
I sigh, my chest heavy with tons of secrets I can’t wait to tell her.
“You’re sad,” Natalia murmurs, inching closer. Her hand reaches out but flinches like she might take it back. But she doesn’t. She gives me that hand, putting it atop mine and the warmth bleeds through my skin, comfort settling in my bones like a gift.
I nod.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers and brushes her lips over my jaw. “Your mom is still here though. Remember? She visits, she doesn’t haunt.”
A ghost of a smile on my lips. “She never haunts. I just miss her today.”
“She misses you.” And my heart smiles at those words. “What’s something you used to do together on Christmas?”
“Nothing.” I chuckle, recalling the lazy memories of our family sitting together in the living room watching movies with a fire and doing absolutely nothing after opening gifts.
“That was the best part about it. Christmas Eve was always special—she made a show of it and always kept us up past midnight, but no one ever complained. Not when she made it magical.” Natalia smiles and puts her palm to my cheek.
“Christmas was for us though. The four of us opened gifts and ate, then did nothing while watching movies on the couch.”
Natalia rounds the island and I stand to welcome her in. Her hand reaches up until it’s pressed against my cheek. “That sounds beautiful.”
“It was simple and beautiful,” I say. “You owe me a new secret now.”
Natalia’s smile falters just a bit and she exhales through her nose. I take her hand from my cheek and press my lips to the center of her palm, a silent thank you for what she has given me.
“I really didn’t want to like you, Rowan,” she says shakily. “And I really did not want to love you.”
I take the liberty of placing my hands firmly on her hips. “Do you?”
“No,” she breathes, shaking her head. “No…I hate you.”
The corners of my lips twitch with amusement. “Why can’t you want to love me, Natalia?”
“Because I’m scared,” she croaks. “You know this.”
I shake my head. “I’m not accepting that answer anymore.”
“I like being alone. I know who I am alone, I think, even if I’m lonely and sad about it.
The last time I was in a relationship, I was changing everything about myself—straightening my hair too much, wearing makeup, wearing clothes that didn’t…
I like who I am, even if it isn’t all the time.
I like my curly hair and not wearing makeup and having all of these earrings. ”
“I would never ask you to change any of that.”
“Rowan—”
“Do you know why?”
Silence.
“Because I love you, Natalia. I’m in love with you,” I confess, placing my heart in her chest for her to keep safe. “As you are. I’m not going to pick and choose which parts I do or don’t love because that isn’t how it works. I love you as a whole, not in parts.”
“I…”
“I’m willing to wait for you. I’m going to wait for you,” I whisper. “Until you’re ready. Until you feel lovable and until you love yourself the way I love you.”
“What if… What if I don’t get there?”
“You will,” I promise. “You have me. You have all of us. And we’ll take this slow—that’s what we need. When you feel ready and okay, then I’ll be here.”
“Promise me that we’ll take this slow,” she whispers. “I don’t know how long I’ll take, but I want this—I do. ”
“I know you do,” I say. Three silly words don’t need to be said for me to feel like the luckiest man in the world. It’s enough just to have her in my arms, knowing I get to love her. “We’ll take it slow.”
Natalia nods, fidgeting with her lip between her teeth. “I can’t apologize enough, you know? I’m insecure. What if, maybe, you think you love me because we’ve been—”
“I loved you long before I even kissed you, sweetheart. I didn’t have to fuck you to know that.”
“I like how you love me,” she breathes and I kiss her.
I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her and pour all the love I have inside of me into her, hoping it settles inside of her. Hoping it makes itself at home within her and shows her I’m not going anywhere.
“Rowan,” Natalia breathes and I hear what I need to hear.
I lift her, wrap her legs around me, and walk toward her bedroom so I can worship her. I set her down and struggle with pacing myself as I kiss and touch every inch of her skin.
There is no one like her—never will be. I’ll hand her my heart, put it in her pocket, and let her keep it there as a reminder.