Chapter 27
twenty-seven
ROWAN
We look at each other for what feels like hours. Neither of us is speaking. I feel like my mouth has gone dry after telling her that. Something that happened years ago, and I never told her how I felt that day. I was too stunned to speak when I saw her walking toward me on that warm, sunny day.
She opens her mouth slightly and says, “Rowan, I–”
“Hello, welcome to Zesty Ziti. I’m Justin and I’ll be your server for this evening. I see that you have a special menu that was put together just for you two tonight. Have you had a chance to look over it?”
Ellie turns to the server and smiles. “Hi, um, we haven’t had a chance to go over it yet. Sorry.”
The server smiles brightly at her. “No worries. I will let you two look over it, but in the meantime, would you like me to open your bottle of wine for you? It’s one of the owner's favorites.”
“Yes, please,” Ellie says happily.
I haven’t broken my gaze from her during the server’s oration. I want to tell him that he can go away and forget the damn wine. What was she going to say? I pull away from my thoughts and adjust myself to face the server. I put on a forced smile while I watch him pour the golden white wine.
After we give it a taste and are happy with it, our server leaves us for a moment to go over the menu. I can’t think about food anymore. I want to go back to what we were just talking about. Did I make her uncomfortable? There was this look in her eyes that I couldn’t quite figure out.
“So.” Ellie picks up the menu and looks over it. “This is a special menu? What’s the occasion for it to be special?”
I follow her lead and forget the conversation. Now I know what I’ll be spiraling over tonight.
“The special occasion is you being home,” I tell her with a smile. “Get whatever you want.”
“Are you sure you want to stick to that? That’s a dangerous game you’re playing.”
“I’m willing to take the chance. My wallet can handle it.”
“Oooooh, what if we eat in reverse?”
I arch a brow to her in question.
“You know, dessert, entrée, appetizer.”
“That’s just psychotic.” I put my menu down and splay my arm across the top of the booth, trying to relax my body.
I see Ellie’s eyes follow my movement, wondering if this is okay. She doesn’t say anything and instead makes herself more comfortable.
I feel her lean into me before saying, “Fine, if you don’t want to do that, can I at least get the cookie skillet after our meal?”
“Of course. I’m not going to deprive you of your sweets. I’m trying to make a good impression tonight.”
“Uh-huh.” She turns her body toward me again, leaning her elbow on the table and placing her fingers along her jawline. “Why are you trying to make a good impression tonight?”
“Because I’m trying to make you forget about your asshole ex-boyfriend. My job tonight is to remind you how you should be treated daily. To remind you what you’re worth.”
She scoffs. “Rowan, you don’t need to do that.”
“You’re right. I know I don’t need to—I want to. There’s a difference.”
She puts her hand down on the table, one side of her lip tips up in a smirk, and she narrows her eyes toward me. “You are such a suck-up.”
I chuckle. “Nope, that’s me overcompensating for my daddy issues.”
“Hey,” she says sharply, holding my stare. “I thought you were working through all of that? Going to therapy and trying to move on?”
I bring my arm back down and onto my lap. I start to fidget with my fingers while I look down at them. Ellie’s hand covers mine, her way of making me stop. I look at her, and all I see is worry in her sparkling blue eyes.
“I’ve been going to therapy. I go every other week. We got to a point where we were talking about me seeing him.”
“What?”
“Hypothetically speaking, I’ve been wondering, if I were to see him, what would I say?”
Ellie nods. “Oh, okay. Can I ask what that would be?”
I shrug. “I guess I would just ask for his side of the story. I know Mom's side already.”
On my twenty-first birthday, I decided that I wanted to know more details about why he left. I wanted to stop feeling so empty, and maybe if I knew the story, I wouldn’t feel this pit in my stomach and wonder why every day.
My parents met when they were in elementary school. My dad's parents moved to Dove Point when he was nine years old. He was the new kid. One day, my mom spotted him in one of their classes and introduced herself. Because that’s the type of person my mom is: welcoming and friendly. Ever since then, they started to become friends. It wasn’t until they were sixteen that my dad asked her out on a date. He never thought he’d land a girl like Mom, but he didn’t want to regret not trying, from what she told me.
I feel Ellie’s hand squeeze mine as I’m pulled from my memories. I must have zoned out because the server came by again, asking us if we were ready to place our orders. Ellie took the lead, letting me deal with my thoughts.
“What would you like?” he asks.
“The bacon-wrapped asparagus, tomato burrata bruschetta, and zucchini fries, please,” she replies in a sweet tone.
My brows shoot up after she lists off the apps she wants. I forgot how much she loves to eat. She could win a pie-eating contest, the filling spread all over his face, and I’d still be head over heels for her.
“What?” she asks before taking a sip of her wine.
“You sure you’re going to have room for the entrée and dessert?” I laugh.
She sets the glass down, rests her arms on the table, and looks at me. “Rowan, you’re the one that eats the majority of the food.”
“I do not,” I say in a defensive tone.
She deadpans. “Remember when we shared that huge burrito one summer? The one that was the size of your head. You ate all of it.”
“Whoa, the only reason I ate all of it is because you took four bites and said your stomach couldn’t handle the rest.”
She narrows her eyes at me and smiles slowly. “Bad example.”
I scoff. “Only example.”
Ellie rolls her eyes and tries, but fails, to hide a smile. She changes the subject, not going back about my dad, but instead focusing on the event for Mrs. Anderson. At this moment, I feel so grateful to have someone like her. Someone who knows my moods and can read me like a book.
The one woman who knows me better than I know myself.
After we finish our entrée, the server takes our plates away and tells us our dessert will be out momentarily. I can feel my stomach on the brink of explosion, but I’m stubborn and will be enjoying a cookie skillet.
I’ll deal with the consequences later. Whatever they may be.
Ellie grabs my forearm and looks past me. “Oh my god.”
I turn my head and see the server approach us with a large skillet, and a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream peeks out of it. There’s a small sparkler on top, grabbing the other guests' attention. I turn back to Ellie, wanting to witness her facial expression.
I pull out my phone to get a recording just for the sake of wanting to remember this moment. I focus my camera on her the entire time, and when she gets a full glance at the cookie and ice cream, her face lights up. She looks like she was just given gold on a plate.
She realizes I’m recording her when she tells me how incredible it looks. The smile falls from her face, and she looks at the camera in horror.
“You’re recording me? Ro!” she whines.
I laugh and put my phone away. “What? I knew it would be too good. You looked so cute, especially when you realized I was recording you.” I continue to laugh, thinking about the facial expression change.
I hold the spoon up to her with a smile, gesturing to her to take the first bite. Ellie and her desserts are the one thing you don’t want to get in the way of. One time, August swiped at some frosting for a cake she was making for their mom. I have never seen someone grab a wrist so fast. August had to scream, Uncle .
“Rowan Andrew Williams, did you just call me cute?” She looks at me with a playful smile while grabbing the spoon from my hand.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It must be all the sugar that’s in your head.” I look away and pick up my spoon, waiting for her to take the first bite.
“You haven’t called me cute in years. Good to know I still got it.” She dips her spoon into the cookie, dipping it into the vanilla ice cream.
“Wow, you are so into yourself. New York really changed you.” I shake my head.
“Shut up,” she says, pushing her shoulder into mine.