Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ROWAN
My bed looks like the aftermath of a fabric explosion.
Three sundresses. One denim skirt. A wrinkled maxi that smells faintly of campfire smoke. Nothing that seems appropriate for a memorial service.
Since I quit my job, my wardrobe has skewed aggressively casual. Practical. Easy to throw on and forget about. I haven’t needed anything formal in months. Certainly not something to wear while sitting in a church full of people mourning the dead wife of the boss I can’t stop thinking about.
Wanting to be there for Presley and Jemmy is one thing. Wanting to be there for Hayden, too? That’s a complication I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to unpack right now.
The last thing I should be doing is attending the memorial for the woman who gave me her heart. Especially when I’ve been carrying that secret around for nearly a month now.
And yet, it’s also why I feel like I have to go.
To pay my respects.
To acknowledge the life that ended so mine could continue.
To honor her sacrifice, even if I’m the only one who understands it.
It’s not exactly how I pictured spending my first “rebirth” day.
I originally planned on marking the day by saying yes to everything I could.
But I can’t shake the feeling there’s a reason I offered to go with Hayden. That it’s important I be there today.
Pushing out a long sigh, I reach for the most conservative item of clothing I own — a red-and-blue floral dress that hits mid-thigh. It’s not funeral black, but it’s clean, ironed, and doesn’t scream beach day.
After slipping on the dress, I take a minute to put on some eyeliner and lip gloss. Then I pull on knee-high black boots and shrug into my denim jacket before slinging my bag over my shoulder.
When I step into the living room, Presley’s eyes immediately go to me. She launches herself at me, her small arms wrapping around my waist with surprising force.
I steady myself and give her a reassuring rub on her back.
She releases me and signs, Are you coming?
“I am.”
She hugs me again, tighter this time, like she’s afraid I might change my mind. As I give her another squeeze, my gaze lifts and collides with Hayden, who’s studying us from across the room.
There’s something different about the way his eyes linger on me today. Something unguarded. It sends a rush of sensation through me I can’t name.
Excitement, maybe?
No. Absolutely not.
I’m about to go to his dead wife’s memorial, for crying out loud.
Probably just nerves. Or guilt. Or the fact that I’m about to walk into a church for the first time in my life under questionable circumstances.
“We should get going,” Hayden announces, tearing his gaze from mine as he lifts Jemmy.
I grab Presley’s hand and follow him out the door.
The car ride is mostly quiet. Jemmy fills the silence with his running commentary — trees, trucks, dogs, truck again. His voice grows particularly excited when we pass the fire station. The bay doors are open, revealing a pristine red fire engine.
“Finn. Truck,” he announces excitedly.
It doesn’t matter that his uncle is on the fire department and lets him play on the fire trucks at least once a week.
Jemmy’s eyes always light up when he sees them.
He may like them more than dinosaurs, and that’s saying something.
“Yes, buddy,” Hayden replies, his voice distant. “That’s Uncle Finn’s special truck.”
I consider making small talk to cut through the heavy atmosphere in the car. But one glance at Hayden’s profile as he drives — jaw tight, eyes fixed straight ahead — tells me this isn’t the time to chat about how nice the weather is.
So I stay quiet and watch the town roll by.
After a few more minutes, the church comes into view, and he pulls into the parking lot. I look up at the imposing building, fidgeting with my hands in my lap.
“Are you okay?” Hayden asks as he kills the ignition.
“Fine. I just…” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “I’ve never been in a church before. How am I supposed to act?”
He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Just be yourself.”
That doesn’t feel reassuring, but I nod anyway, stepping out of the car and helping Presley, giving her a comforting smile. With her hand clasped in mine, we head into the church together.
The second we cross the threshold, the nervous butterflies dance in my stomach once more. If they ever stopped. Everything about this place feels off. And not just because I’ve always had a questionable relationship with any sort of organized religion. But it feels…heavy.
Too heavy.
The air smells like polished wood and flowers while voices murmur, grief compressed into polite tones and careful expressions.
Then I see her.
The portrait of Cora is massive, propped on an easel at the front. I’ve seen her photo before, printed small on the program I found in Hayden’s office. The quality wasn’t all that great to begin with, and it had faded over time.
But this isn’t.
She seems almost lifelike. Her dark hair falls in gentle waves past her shoulders, her green eyes full of life. Her smile is warm. Familiar in a way that makes my chest tighten. I never knew her, but seeing her like this hits me harder than I expected.
I glance at Hayden. His face is carefully blank, grief locked down behind months of training and sheer force of will. But his grip tightens around Jemmy, who stares at the portrait.
“Mama!” Jemmy announces.
“Yeah, bud. That’s Mama.”
“Heaven.”
“Yeah. Mama’s in heaven.”
In a heartbeat, Presley wrenches her hand free from mine and bolts, weaving through the crowd before I know what’s happening.
“Presley,” Hayden whisper-shouts. “Get back here.”
But she doesn’t listen. She pushes through everyone and out the front doors of the church, running faster than I’ve ever seen her.
Hayden hurries after her, continuing to call her name while I remain frozen.
People stare at his retreating form as they lean closer to whisper amongst themselves, gossiping about the poor single dad who seems to have his hands full.
What do they expect when they have to spend the day being reminded of the one person they’d give anything to have back?
I push through the crowd, ignoring the questioning looks.
The second I’m outside, I suck in a huge gulp of air, feeling like I can breathe again. If I felt suffocated inside those four walls, I can only imagine how Presley felt. I don’t blame her for wanting to leave. Truth be told, I did, too.
I scan the area, spotting them almost immediately. Hayden stands beneath a giant tree, most of the leaves gone. And perched on one of the branches is Presley.
“I’m not going to tell you again, young lady,” Hayden says, frustration evident in his voice. “Get down here. Right now. You’re going to lose TV and tablet privileges for a week.”
She doesn’t budge.
His jaw clenches and he squeezes his eyes shut as Jemmy babbles, pointing to Presley and saying “monkey” before making the sound like a monkey.
“If you come down,” Hayden begins, softer this time, “I’ll take you to the toy store. You can pick out anything you want.”
She looks at him, then gives a hard shake of her head.
I see it the second his patience snaps.
“You don’t have a choice,” he hisses. “If I have to climb up there and get you myself, I will. And you won’t like what happens next. This is unacceptable. You’re acting like a baby.”
While I’d normally let him handle this on his own, he’s struggling. After all, I came today to help. It’s obvious he needs it right now.
“Hayden.”
At the sound of my voice, he spins toward me, his eyes blazing.
“Would you like me to try?” I ask cautiously.
“It’s not necessary,” he snaps. “She needs to act her age. None of us want to be here, but it’s the right thing to do.”
“Yes, but she’s only seven.” I grab a squirming Jemmy from his arms. “Everyone else here has had years to learn how to deal with grief. She’s still figuring it out.” My throat tightens. “Just…let me talk to her.”
He doesn’t say anything for several long moments, and I expect for him to tell me I have no idea what I’m talking about. Finally, he pushes out a slow exhale, his expression growing weary.
“Why is this so hard?”
“Life is hard,” I offer. “But that’s why I’m here. For you to lean on when shit gets hard.”
“Shit.” Jemmy giggles, cutting through the tension.
Hayden and I both freeze before our eyes slowly move toward Jemmy.
“Shit!” he repeats.
I shouldn’t react. In my short time as Jemmy’s nanny, I’ve learned he feeds off my energy. If I find something amusing or funny, he’ll keep doing it. Which is why the best thing I can do to get him to stop swearing is pretend it never happened.
But I can’t.
A laugh bursts out of me, completely inappropriate and impossible to stop. Hayden joins in, too, his deep chuckle like music to my ears, especially right now.
“Shit! Shit!” Jemmy keeps exclaiming.
“I am so sorry,” I gasp, my stomach hurting from laughing so much, tears streaking down my cheeks.
“Don’t be. I think we needed this.”
“We definitely did,” I reply, stealing a glance at Presley. Even her shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.
“Shit!” Jemmy repeats yet again.
“That’s not a nice word, bud,” Hayden attempts to chastise.
“Ro-Ro.”
“I know. Ro-Ro said it. But she’s a grownup. That’s a grownup word.”
Jemmy looks between Hayden and me. Then a conniving grin tugs on his lips. “Shit.”
Hayden sighs. “Great. Now I have to go into a church with a toddler whose new favorite word is a swear.”
“I’m so sorry,” I offer yet again, wiping away the tears of laughter still falling.
“I guess there are worse things.”
“There are.”
He draws in a deep breath, glancing at the church before returning his attention to me. “Do you think you—”
“I’ll talk to her. Try to get her down from the tree and see if she’ll give it another shot.”
Relief covers his expression. “Thank you, Rowan. I appreciate it.”
“It’s my job,” I respond dismissively as he takes Jemmy from me.
“No. It’s not. So…thank you.”
He meets my eyes, his attention seeming to focus on my mouth for longer than normal.
Then he turns and makes his way back toward the church.