Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Winter
It’s been a few days since we returned from Naples. I haven't heard from Knox. I tell myself there are reasons. He's busy. I'm busy. We're both processing what happened between us without the pressure of constant contact.
But it still stings.
I've been running between client meetings all week, making up for the time I spent in Florida.
Two consultations got pushed because of Naples, and both clients were understanding but firm about needing to meet this week.
I spent yesterday at a townhouse in the Upper East Side discussing a full renovation, and this morning I met with a couple in Brooklyn Heights who want to modernize their brownstone without losing its historic charm.
By the time I arrive at the Tribeca site just after 2PM, I'm exhausted. The development is coming together beautifully. The exterior is nearly complete, the interior framing is done, and now we're in the phase where my designs actually start coming to life.
I walk through the ground floor lobby, taking in the progress. The marble flooring I specified is being installed, the custom millwork is going up, and the lighting fixtures are being mounted. Tom sees me and walks over.
"Winter, good to see you. What do you think?"
"It's looking great. The marble turned out even better than I expected."
"We aim to please." Tom gestures toward the elevators.
"Want to see the model units on twelve?"
"Actually, I wanted to discuss the changes to the penthouse layout first. Is Knox here?"
Tom's expression shifts slightly.
"No, he's in Boston. He’s been there the past few days."
My stomach drops. "Boston?"
"Yeah. Some kind of emergency with one of his developments there. I don't have all the details, but it sounded serious."
I try to keep my face neutral.
"Is everything okay?"
Tom shrugs.
"I assume so. Knox doesn't usually share much unless it directly affects our timeline here. But he said he'd be back early next week."
"Right. Okay."
I'm trying to process this. Knox is in Boston.
He's been there all week. That's why he hasn't called.
But part of me also wonders if there's another reason.
If what happened in Naples scared him off.
If he's avoiding me. Tom is still talking, something about the penthouse finishes, but I'm only half listening.
"Winter?"
I snap back. "Sorry. Yes. Let's go look at the model units."
We spend the next hour walking through the building. I make notes, point out adjustments that need to be made, approve sample materials. The work is good. My team is executing the vision perfectly.
But I can't stop thinking about Knox.
An emergency in Boston. That's all I know. I want to text him. Ask if he's okay. But I don't know if that's overstepping. We left things undefined in Naples. No conversation about what we were doing or where this was going. Just goodbye at the airport and separate cars.
..Maybe that was his answer.
***
The flowers start arriving on Thursday. The first bouquet shows up at my studio in the morning. White roses. Two dozen of them. The card reads:
"I'm sorry. Please talk to me.
- R"
Maya brings them to my office with a concerned look.
"These just came for you."
I stare at the roses.
"Throw them away."
"Winter—"
"Please, Maya. Just throw them away."
She takes them without another word.
By the end of the day, three more bouquets have arrived. I have Maya intercept them all.
On Friday, there are five.
On Saturday, I'm at home when the doorbell rings. I open it to find a delivery man holding an enormous arrangement of peonies.
"Winter Hayes?"
"Yes."
"These are for you."
I take the flowers and close the door. There are two notes. One is handwritten from Maya:
Winter,
These were sent to the office, so I had them re-routed to you at home.
- Maya
The second card says the same thing as the previous cards the day before:
"I'm sorry. Please talk to me."
- R
I set them on my kitchen counter and stare at them.
My phone rings. Kate.
"Hey," I answer.
"Are you okay?" she asks immediately.
"You've been quiet this week."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. What's going on?"
I sink onto my couch.
"Rowan won't stop. Flowers every day. Calls from different numbers. Texts."
"You need to tell him to leave you alone. Figure something out. Block every number he uses. Make it clear you're serious."
"I have."
Kate pauses. "Are you still in love with him?"
The question catches me off guard.
"What?"
"You're not being forceful enough with him, Winter. It seems like maybe part of you is still holding on."
"I'm not."
"Then why aren't you more direct?"
I close my eyes.
"Because feelings don't just disappear overnight, Kate. I spent two years with him. I loved him. That doesn't evaporate just because he cheated."
"So you do still have feelings."
"No." I open my eyes.
"What I had with Rowan was just a moment in time. That's it. My heart is still mending from what he did. But I'm not in love with him anymore."
"Then what's holding you back from telling him that definitively?"
I don't answer right away. Because the truth is more complicated than I want to admit.
Knox has helped me move on. Working beside him these past months and being with him intimately in Naples showed me what it feels like to be with someone who actually sees me. Who challenges me. Who makes me feel alive in ways Rowan never did.
I'm falling for Knox. But I don't know if he feels the same.
"Winter?" Kate prompts.
"I just need Rowan to get the message," I say finally.
"That's all."
Kate sighs. "Okay. But if he keeps this up, you need to do something more serious."
"I know."
We talk for a few more minutes before hanging up. I look at the peonies on my counter. Then I pick up my phone and block another one of Rowan's numbers.
***
That same evening, I'm getting ready for a charity gala. One of my clients, Mrs. Patterson, invited me weeks ago. She's on the board of a foundation that supports arts education in underserved communities, and the annual gala is their biggest fundraiser of the year.
I almost declined when the invitation first came. These events aren't usually my scene.
But Mrs. Patterson insisted. She wanted to introduce me to potential clients, and I couldn't turn down the opportunity.
I put on a navy dress, simple but elegant, and pull my hair into a low chignon. Minimal jewelry. Classic heels. By the time I arrive at the venue—a historic mansion on the Upper East Side—the event is already in full swing.
The main ballroom is stunning. Crystal chandeliers, floor-to-ceiling windows, live orchestra playing in the corner. People in expensive gowns and tuxedos mingle with champagne glasses in hand. Mrs. Patterson finds me almost immediately.
"Winter, darling, you look beautiful. Come, let me introduce you to some people."
She leads me through the crowd, making introductions. A couple looking to renovate their Park Avenue apartment. A developer interested in hiring a designer for a new boutique hotel. An art collector who wants to redesign his gallery space.
I make polite conversation, exchange business cards, and smile at the right moments. But I feel disconnected. Like I'm going through the motions. I excuse myself after twenty minutes and head toward the bar.
That's when I see him; Rowan.
He's standing near the windows, talking to someone I don't recognize. He's wearing a tuxedo, looking polished and put together.
My stomach twists.
He sees me at the same moment I see him. Our eyes meet across the room. He says something to the person he's talking to and starts walking toward me. I turn and head in the opposite direction, but he's faster.
"Winter."
I stop and face him. "What are you doing here?"
"Sterling Commercial is one of the sponsors and a huge donor to the foundation," Rowan says.
"I thought maybe you'd be attending. I know you work with Mrs. Patterson."
Of course. The foundation probably works with his company.
This isn't planned. It's just bad luck.
"I can't do this right now," I say, starting to walk away.
Rowan follows.
"Please. Just give me five minutes."
"No."
"Winter, I know you're angry. You can see I've been making all these efforts. I wouldn't do it if I didn't love you with all my heart."
I stop and turn to face him.
"Rowan. Stop. This is ridiculous. You need to stop."
"I can't stop. Not when I know we belong together."
People are starting to notice. I can feel eyes on us.
"Rowan, please—"
He drops to one knee as my breath catches.
No.
He pulls a ring box from his jacket pocket and opens it. The entire room goes silent. The orchestra stops playing. Conversations halt mid-sentence. Everyone is staring.
"Winter," Rowan says, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.
"You're the best thing in my life, and you were right in front of me all along.
I'm sorry I took you for granted. I'm a fool.
I've been doing all I can possibly do to make this up to you.
I love you with all my heart. Please, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.
Just please say you'll marry me. Please marry me. "
I stand frozen. Cameras flash. I see phones out, people recording.
This isn't real. This can't be happening.
"Get up," I say quietly.
Rowan doesn't move.
"Winter, please—"
"Get up." My voice is firmer now, but still calm. Still controlled.
"I love you—"
"Get up."
I pull my hand away from where he's trying to hold it. Then I turn and walk toward the exit. Behind me, I hear murmurs. Gasps. The sound of the orchestra starting up again, trying to cover the awkwardness.
I don't look back. I push through the doors and out into the foyer. I grab my coat from the coat check and rush down the front steps. A taxi is idling at the curb and I get in without hesitation.
"Greenwich Village," I tell the driver, giving him my address.
He pulls away and I sink back into the seat, my hands shaking.
What the hell just happened?
Twenty minutes later, I'm unlocking my apartment door when my phone starts ringing.
Kate.
I answer. "Hey."
"Oh my god, Winter, are you okay? I just saw the photos online."
I close the door behind me and lean against it.
"He ambushed me. I didn't know."
"The entire internet has seen it. It's on every gossip site. People are posting videos."
I close my eyes. "Of course they are."
"What did you say? Did you say no?" Kate asks, her voice sounding uncertain.
"I didn't say anything. I just left."
Kate is quiet for a moment.
"Are you okay?"
"I don't know."
We talk for a few more minutes before I tell her I need to go.
I hang up and set my phone on the counter, then I walk to my bedroom and sit on the edge of my bed.
The tears come before I can stop them. Not because Rowan proposed.
Not because I'm embarrassed, though I am.
But because his grand gesture—the flowers, the calls, the public proposal—only made me realize something I've been avoiding; I'm in love with Knox.
I'm in love with him and I don't know if he feels the same. He hasn't called. Hasn't texted. He's been in Boston these past days and I don't even know what happened or if he's okay.
Maybe Naples didn't mean to him what it meant to me. Maybe I'm just another woman in a long line of women he's been with. I lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I don't know what to do. All I know is that I can't stop crying.