Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
HAYDEN
The house is dark except for the lamp in the corner of the living room, the amber glow reflecting off my glass as I take another large swallow of scotch.
I should have gone to bed hours ago, but I wanted to enjoy a quiet house.
At least that’s what I told myself at ten. Then again at eleven.
Now it’s after midnight, and there’s only one reason I’m still awake.
And it’s not to enjoy a quiet house.
It’s because Rowan still isn’t home from her date with Joshua. She left with him hours ago. How long do dates last these days? I wouldn’t even know. It’s been over twenty years since I’ve been on one.
I consider calling her to make sure she’s okay. But what if I interrupt something?
The image comes uninvited. His hands on her body. Her legs wrapped around his waist. His mouth pressed against hers.
My jaw tightens, and I jump to my feet, storming into the kitchen and pouring another scotch. The liquor coats my stomach, dulling the edge of jealousy, but not killing it.
Headlights suddenly flash through the window, and my body reacts before my brain does, propelling me back into the living room. I peek through the blinds but stay just out of view, pressing myself against the wall like some kind of stalker.
Joshua steps out first, hurrying around the truck in order to open Rowan’s door for her, offering his hand like the perfect fucking gentleman.
This would be easier if he were an asshole.
But Joshua’s always been a good guy. Left college during his first year to come home and take care of his mom after she was diagnosed with cancer. That still doesn’t stop the red-hot jealousy from shooting through me.
As they get closer, I notice Rowan glance toward the house.
Toward this window.
I shift back instinctively, as if she somehow knows I’m watching her.
Which is ridiculous. It’s dark. She can’t see me.
Instead of heading for the front door, she steers him toward her separate entrance. I gave her the code so she could come and go without feeling like she lived under my roof.
I regret it now. Because now I can’t see or hear a damn thing.
All I can do is wait.
And wait.
And wait.
How long does it take to say goodnight? It shouldn’t take this long.
Unless…
I squeeze my eyes shut, praying she doesn’t invite him inside.
Or worse, to stay the night.
Would she do that?
I run a hand through my hair and start pacing. I told her she was free to have people over so long as it wasn’t during working hours and they were respectful.
I never considered a man might spend the night.
Finally, the sound of footsteps cuts through my thoughts. I look out the window in time to see Joshua head toward the driveway.
Relief crashes through me so hard I have to brace myself against the wall.
But as he walks beneath the porch light, I notice his mouth is shinier than it was before.
Like he’s wearing lip gloss.
Rowan’s lip gloss.
I should let it go. It doesn’t matter.
She’s my employee. Just my employee. My kids’ nanny.
That’s exactly what I tell myself as I stride down the hall.
It’s what I tell myself as I lift my hand.
And it’s what I tell myself as I knock.
It’s not until the sound echoes around me that the realization of what I’m doing finally hits me. I should turn around, go to bed, and forget about Rowan.
But before I can, footsteps approach and the door opens.
Rowan appears in a sweater dress and knee-high boots, her cheeks flushed from the cold, hair slightly wind-tossed.
God, she’s beautiful.
“Did you kiss him?” I blurt out.
She blinks, obviously taken aback by my question.
“That’s none of your business, Hayden. What I do during my personal time is precisely that. Personal.”
“Just tell me,” I push, despite knowing better. “I need to know.”
“Why do you care?” She crosses her arms. Defensive. Beautiful. “You’re the one who pushed me away. You don’t get to act jealous now that I’m seeing someone else. It doesn’t work that way.”
“I know.” I drag a hand through my hair, tugging at the ends.
“Do you think I wanted to push you away? Fuck, Rowan. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that damn kiss since Saturday.
Every time I’m around you, it replays in my head.
This week has been torture. All because of how incredible it felt to finally kiss you. ”
“Then why did you push me away?”
Because you’re my kids’ nanny.
Because you’re younger.
Because people would talk.
Because I lost my wife.
Because wanting you feels like betraying her.
All the reasonable answers line up neatly in my head.
All the excuses I’ve repeatedly told myself.
But none of them come out.
“Because you scare me,” I admit.
My confession causes her to inhale a sharp breath. I’m not sure if it’s the substance of the words or the fact that I didn’t give her the same excuse I’ve given myself all week.
“You have since the beginning,” I continue when she remains mute. “There’s something about you. When you’re around…” I shake my head, unsure how to describe it. “I feel…at peace. For the first time in a long time. You make me feel things I shouldn’t. Not after—”
“Who says?”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“Who says you’re not supposed to feel what you do? Is there a rule somewhere?”
“I lost my wife.”
“I’m aware.” Her voice softens, yet her eyes don’t waver. “But where’s the rule that says you have to mourn her forever? The rule that says you have to stop living because she isn’t? The rule that says you have to stop feeling?”
I open my mouth, but no words come.
For the past year, I’ve been living according to invisible rules. Expectations. Behaving like I believed a grieving husband should. Sacrificing the things a single father should.
But the truth is, I’m so goddamn tired.
Tired of feeling like I’m betraying Cora’s legacy if I don’t mourn her every second of every day.
Tired of being made to feel like I’m less than if I move on.
Tired of feeling like I don’t deserve to be happy.
“Aren’t you tired of not feeling?” Rowan continues, stepping toward me. “Of barely living? Don’t you—”
Before she can utter another syllable, I crash my mouth against hers, as if some other force is at play.
Or maybe this is simply me finally making a decision instead of blindly going through life.
I don’t care why or how. All I do care about is that the second our lips meet, something inside me snaps into place.
She gasps softly, and I deepen the kiss, my hands framing her face like I’m afraid she’ll disappear.
God, I missed this. Missed her. Missed the taste of her. The warmth. The way everything else — the guilt, the expectations, the fear — falls away when she’s in my arms.
When I’m kissing her, there’s no past. No future. There’s just this. Just us.
She pulls away first, breathing hard as we stare at each other for several protracted beats.
“Are you…okay?” I ask when she doesn’t immediately do or say anything.
“I guess I’m…waiting.”
“For what?”
“For you to tell me this is a bad idea and we shouldn’t do this.”
I let out a shaky breath. “It is a bad idea. And we definitely shouldn’t do this.”
“But?” She arches a brow, sensing there’s more.
I slide an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me, feeling the steady beat of her heart against my chest.
“But I’m ready to take a page out of your book.”
“How so?”
I swallow hard as I stare into her brilliant blue eyes. It feels like I’m standing at the door of an airplane about to take a giant leap of faith, all the while praying my parachute deploys. But for the first time in over a year, I refuse to let fear or guilt overpower my needs.
“I’m ready to stop living by everyone else’s rules. I’m ready to start saying yes again. I’m ready to say yes…to you.”
Then I slam my lips against hers once more.