“Very nice,” he confirms. “I’m going to go grab a shower, okay?”
“Sure,” I tell him. “I’ll take your duffel and start a load of clothes.”
“Awesome,” he says and flashes me a grin. “You make a great housewife.”
“You’re funny, Caldwell. But you stink... go shower.”
He gives me a mock salute and heads down the hallway.
I quickly grab Flynn’s bag and start a load of laundry. Then I put the pot of water on the stove and anxiously watch it. It takes forever to boil but at least it gives me time to open a bottle of red wine I picked up today. I had discovered just last week that Flynn likes this particular brand and I thought it would be nice to get it for him.
I hear the bathroom door open and then Flynn’s bedroom door close. He’s getting dressed so that gives me time to start the garlic bread and I dump the pasta in the pot. I just have the table set when Flynn walks into the kitchen, and oh, my God, he looks divine.
He’s put some effort into his appearance as well. He’s freshly shaven—although I do prefer the scruffy look—and he’s wearing a pair of dark jeans that are perfectly formed to his ass and a dark gray dress shirt that fits his chest like it was custom designed. His hair is even styled with his short locks brushed forward and then tufted upward at his forehead.
“Wow,” I say, my voice slightly rough. “You clean up nice.”
He gives me an embarrassed smile and points to the stove. “What’s all this?”
I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly, like it’s not a big deal that I made dinner for the two of us, but it is so a big deal. I don’t cook, a fact that Flynn has bemoaned on more than one occasion, and I have been jonesing for two weeks for some quality time with him. I’m hoping that we will naturally glide into a serious conversation about our feelings because I need to confront them before they drive me insane.
“Oh, nothing much,” I say, waving at the pot of sauce bubbling merrily. “Just a little something I whipped up. Thought you’d be hungry when you got home.”
Flynn sort of glances around the kitchen, taking in the pasta, the uncorked bottle of wine, and the plates that I had set out. I even put a little vase with flowers on the table. He looks down at the floor and sort of shuffles his feet back and forth, like he’s nervous.
I think it’s adorable, and I even notice his cheeks are a little red.
“What’s the matter?” I tease. “Is the setup not to your liking?”
He looks up at me and his eyes are filled with apology. “No... not at all. It looks great. It’s just... I have plans tonight for dinner and I can’t stay.”
I feel like I just got sucker punched in the chest and for one terrifying moment, I think my breath may be gone for good, but then I recover. My head is buzzing, though when I manage to ask, “Oh... heading out with the guys tonight?”
Flynn looks back down to the ground and tucks his hands into his pockets. When he looks back up at me, the apology is gone and his eyes are a bit aloof. “I have a date.”
“A date?” I ask, completely aware of the disbelief in my voice. It rings through loud and clear, and I actually see Flynn’s eyes turn cold that I would be surprised that he has a date.
“Yes, a date. Remember... you told me... two weeks ago, to move on from you. That’s what you told me to do, so I went and did it.”
I inhale sharply because his words are like razor blades soaked in stinging alcohol against my heart. He’s actually moved on... past me. And here I am putting on an incredibly stupid display of a romantic gesture with this dinner, and the entire time he’s getting ready to go on a date.
Karma is such a bitch!
And he has every right to do this yet that does nothing to ease the burn of rejection. It’s as I had imagined it would be... sharp and cold. It ravages deep inside of my chest and grabs my heart in an icy grip.
I turn my back on Flynn, because I have no clue what expression my face is wearing right now. I hope he didn’t see the hurt and mortification. Where I possess the strength, I have no clue, but I manage to say in a semi-steady voice, “That’s great. No worries on the food. You can have leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”
Even I’m impressed with how even my tone is and I think I managed to sound happy for him at the end. So I play it all the way up and turn toward him, pinning him with a dazzling smile. “I’m happy for you, Flynn. I hope you have an amazing time tonight.”
He looks back at me, his eyes still hard. But then they soften and he rewards me with the very softest of smiles. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Flynn reaches over and grabs his keys and wallet from the counter, stuffing them in his pockets. “I probably won’t be in until late, so I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sure,” I say, with that fake smile plastered on my face and a touch of hysteria in my voice. I’m on the verge of losing it and I just want him to get the hell out before I meltdown in front of him.
He gives me one last look, and his eyes seem to be searching hard for something. I can feel my cheeks trembling from the effort to smile. He finally turns away and heads toward the door. “See you later.”
When the door shuts, I walk up to it and engage the locks. Turning around, I lean back against it, my palms flat on the wood. Then I slide downward, the first teardrops spilling from my eyes as my butt meets the floor.
I stare straight ahead, numb from the shock that Flynn has indeed moved on. Now, nothing is left for me to have except that stupid fucking friendship that I was so keen to hold on to.
Capone walks up to me and I loop my arms around his massive shoulders, pressing my face into his fur. It will help to mop up the buckets of tears that are leaking out. I cry with abandon, knowing that the only one to share my pain at this moment is my dog.
20
I just came off an extra two-day shift I picked up at the Station and this early morning run I just finished is exactly what I need before I’m able to collapse into my bed and get caught up on some sleep. We were insanely busy and I’m lucky if I’ve had a total of eight hours of shuteye in the last two days.
Opening the door to the apartment, I quietly enter so I don’t wake Rowan up. All was silent half an hour ago when I opened the door to just drop my duffel bag in the foyer before heading out to run. I gently close the door and turn the locks.
“Is that you, Flynn?” I hear Rowan call out from the kitchen.
Walking in, I see her sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee. She looks up at me and smiles a greeting, but it doesn’t actually reach her eyes. “Guess I wasn’t as quiet as I thought I was.”
The smile slips and she says, “I heard the locks clicking.”
I cringe from that statement, a brutal reminder that Rowan still has issues that she is dealing with and thus keeps me firm in my resolve to move on.
But it’s fucking killing me.
The minute I walked into the kitchen and saw her, with the morning sunlight pouring down on top of her from the small, high window that sits above the fridge, I thought she looked like an angel.
A sad angel.
There is something different about Rowan and it clearly changed the night I went on my first date with Jennifer. She has become a little more withdrawn from me, and I can’t figure out if it’s because she’s angry or if she’s sad. Hell, it may be that our friendship has run its course and what was once new and exciting has now become an old hat for both of us.
I know one thing though... I do miss the camaraderie we had shared before, and while I still find myself pining for what may have been with Rowan, I am trying my damnedest to leave the thought of an intimate relationship with her behind.
I’m done being mad at her though.
And I was mad. I mean, really pissed after she spurned me that night. I was mad that she couldn’t see past her fears to something that could have been miraculously wonderful for both of us. I was furious that this brave, strong, independent woman didn’t have the chops to venture
even further. Red was the color I saw when I looked at her because I was hurting so bad.
But then I decided I had to move past it. I had to move on, just like she told me. And while I hadn’t really been looking for a relationship before I met Rowan, I got to thinking that maybe it was time for me to find one. A woman that would want to venture forth with me rather than standing timidly in the shadows. A woman that I could look at... the way Nix looks at Emily and says, She’s my everything.
That’s what I wanted and if I couldn’t have it with Rowan, I’m sure I could have it with someone else.
I let one of my co-workers hook me up with his cousin, Jennifer. She’s two years older than me and an investment banker. She’s polished, educated, and outgoing, and I even emailed my mom the morning after that first date to tell her all about it because I knew she would be thrilled at the prospect.
So, there you have it. I’m officially dating. Jennifer has a slammin’ body from what I’ve been able to see through her tailored clothes and designer heels. I also know this because she told me... exhaustively... about her workout routines. It seems Jennifer is a bit of a health nut, and while I’m all for working out and taking care of the body, I’ll never be one of those “drink nothing but spinach and kale shakes” type of people.
Like Jennifer.
On our first date, I almost laughed because not only did she order just a side salad for her entire dinner, but she asked for it with no dressing.
That’s right... no fucking dressing.
She didn’t even ask for it to be brought on the side... she had cold, plain lettuce for her meal. It would have been the cheapest date ever but she did order an expensive sparkling water to go with it, which was fine by me. I didn’t want to have to hear her stomach grumbling through the movie.
Still... I’ve had a good time the few times we’ve been out. We’ve never been at a loss for things to talk about, and while she tends to show more interest in herself that she does anything else, it’s not a bad way to spend my free time.
The best thing though, is that we are taking it slow and so far there have been no expectations to move this to anything deeper than some casual dates at this point. And that’s fine by me because while I’m doing exactly what Rowan suggested I do, I’m not exactly throwing one-hundred percent of my effort into it.
It’s kind of hard to do when you’re still stuck on someone else.
Walking over to the refrigerator, I open it and pull out a bottle of water, twisting the cap and drinking it down. I watch Rowan as I chug, and she’s staring a bit vacantly at her cup. She looks sad and lonely... which makes me sad, and I have to wonder if it is because I haven’t been around a lot lately? I have been picking up some overtime and I’ve had a few dates with Jennifer, so we definitely don’t hang as much as we used to. There’s also been a bit of an emotional distance between us since “that night” but because she clearly believes the friendship is the most important thing we have, I’ve been all for continuing that like we always have. It’s just I haven’t had much time lately.
“So anything new in your life?” I ask her.
She shakes her head and takes another sip of coffee. “No, not unless you count the fact that your cousin was even more of an asshole this week, and Capone threw up on my bed the other night, but other than that… it’s been pretty status quo.” She shoots me an impish grin and relief shoots through me like a lightning bolt. There’s a bit of the Rowan that I was looking for.
“Yeah, Nix has his mood swings. Just ignore him.”
“Hell no, I’m not ignoring him. I give it back to him tenfold.” She now gives me a smile that lights up the room and my heart swells. It’s an involuntary reaction I have to her.
I chuckle at the thought, and I know Rowan can take care of herself. “How’s Capone? Is he sick?”
Standing up from the table, she walks to the sink and dumps the remainder of her coffee. As she rinses the cup, she says, “Nah. I think he just ate too fast or something.”
The brief moment of humor that Rowan showed me just seconds ago is now gone, and her face looks blank again. She turns to walk out of the kitchen without another word, and something just doesn’t feel right to me. I’m exhausted and I know I should hit the sack for some sleep because I have another date with Jennifer tonight, but I can’t let Rowan walk away from me knowing that she’s very sad about something.
“Hey, Rowan,” I call out, and she stops to face me. “Want to go do something today? Maybe hit a museum or go do some touristy stuff?”
“Really?” she asks and her eyes spark. “Aren’t you exhausted?”
“No way,” I assure her, although I feel like I could drop into a deep slumber right on the kitchen floor. “Besides, it’s been too long since we’ve hung out together.”
And it has been way too long. I step up to her and put an arm around her shoulder, giving her a quick squeeze. She actually leans into me and even after I release her, she doesn’t move back right away.
“Okay,” she says as she finally steps back and I’m overjoyed to see her eyes are sparkling with light now.
Just like that... Rowan is back, and I know for a fact that she has been missing me. I fight to keep the feeling of elation I’m feeling down, because surely that doesn’t mean that she wants me for more than a friendship, right? Surely, it can only mean that we’ve both been busy and haven’t spent any time together.
We are missing our friendship. That’s what it must mean.
Still... I wonder.
After some debating over what to do with our day, we decide to head over to Museum Mile and hit the Met. Rowan has never been before and I figure on this chilly November day that it’s warm and fairly quiet, and we can just hang out.
We take our time as we travel through the various galleries. Neither one of us are the type to seriously study a painting, but we do at least move past each one and give it more than a cursory glance. We could spend months in the Met if we wanted to study everything but I wanted to give her a taste of it all.
We make idle chitchat when we can, but for the most part, we are silently enjoying the art.
As we walk among some Spanish Renaissance pieces, Rowan stops before a painting and studies it a bit longer. I hold up and wait for her but she doesn’t move, so I walk the few steps back to stand beside her.
She’s gazing at El Greco’s View of Toledo. I’ve never seen it before, or if I have, I’ve forgotten it, but it’s quite beautiful with its dark storm clouds shadowing the lush, green hills, and the medieval city of Toledo, Spain in the distance. The more I look at it, the more I can see why Rowan is taken with it. It’s both peaceful and edgy, which is a good way to describe Rowan.
“It’s old,” she says quietly.
Peering at the placard beside it, I see it was painted over four hundred years ago. But so have many of the paintings we’ve seen so I don’t understand the significance of her statement.
“I can’t imagine what it takes to preserve something this... special.”
There’s something about the tone of her voice that is haunting and I turn my eyes to her. Her profile is so fucking beautiful. Her lashes are long and lay like whispers on her cheeks, and her nose has just the slightest tilt upward that gives her that pixie look.
“I imagine a lot of techniques have been learned over the years,” I muse, turning my gaze back to the painting.
“I imagine it takes a lot of hard work. I bet there’s painstaking focus on the details.”
I nod. “If it wasn’t hard, then it wouldn’t be so treasured.”
She turns her head and I meet her gaze. She looks at me thoughtfully for a moment before she says, “Exactly.”
Rowan turns and walks on to the next painting, and I’m not quite sure if we were just talking about art or something else.
We decide to eat a late lunch in the cafeteria at the Met, which has a surprising array of food. I choose a pastrami sandwich and Rowan tries their sushi, which I’m a bit dubiou
s about eating from a cafeteria. She swears it’s good after she takes the first bite and offers me some, but I decline. I’m not about to get food poisoning.
Her mood does seem to be lighter though, and after I decline her offer of sushi, she demands I give her a bite of my sandwich. I laugh and willingly hand it over to her, watching as she takes a huge bite.
She only chews twice and then she closes her eyes in rapture and lets out a moan. She clearly thinks the sandwich is amazing but damn if the sound she makes doesn’t cause a surge of lust to drive through me. I thought I had made it past these feelings, but apparently not. I watch as she finishes the bite, giving a final swipe of her lips with her tongue, and I realize I am no further removed from my feelings for Rowan than I was right at the moment I first sunk my finger into her while she was pressed up against my door.
The image of that night flashes hot in my brain and I take a deep breath to move past it.
“Is something wrong?” Rowan asks.
I drag my gaze to hers and shake my head. “No. I’m good.”
I’m anything but.
I still fucking want a woman that doesn’t want me the same way. I decide a change of subject is order.
“So, what are your plans the rest of the weekend?” I ask her. I have four glorious days off and I have no clue what I’m going to do for all of it.
Rowan shrugs her shoulders. “No major plans, but I’m up for hanging out if you want to.”
“Sure,” I tell her, although I’m sure I’m setting myself up for some serious frustration. “And before I forget, we need to leave for my mom’s house around noon on Thursday. I think she wants to eat around 2:00 PM, if that’s okay with you?”
I hadn’t mentioned Thanksgiving to Rowan lately, and I assume she’s still on board with going, but since our friendship had been a little rocky the past few weeks, I’m greatly relieved to see her smiling.
“Sounds great. I’m going to make the pie early that morning but that’s plenty of time.”
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