Rowan was thankful for the change in subject. “I’m desperate for nephew snuggles. Desperate,” Rowan whined. “Auntie Row facetimes him every night, so he doesn’t forget me, but it isn’t the same. I miss my sisters too,” she admitted.
“Why don’t you fly home for a week? Surely, your job here won’t go up in flames if you take a week off.”
One month hadn’t dimmed her thoughts of Hugh. In fact, her nighttime dreams were almost constantly X-rated if Hugh joined them. Going home and seeing him so soon again would be torture. She had to get over wanting him. It was unhealthy and it was causing issues in the family.
Her sisters told Raven two weeks ago that Hugh was practically unbearable. He thought he was hiding his feelings. They said it was painful to watch. He was too stubborn to ask after Rowan’s absence, and so he didn’t even know she was gone. He probably still thought she was avoiding him.
God, she missed that stubborn asshole.
To answer Matilda’s question, Rowan reminded her that she was way ahead of schedule. The boutique was shaping up fast. “So far, this job has been a breeze, and my client is hands-on. It’s kind of a dream job. I get to choose what I like and see my vision metamorphosize from the ground up. Plus, I missed Oklahoma, as crazy as that sounds. It’s July, so that’s like saying I missed high heat, humidity, and bugs,” Rowan laughed, shrugging her shoulders.
“I never asked what you did to celebrate the Fourth of July. Diana and I were still in France, so not a holiday there.”
“Oh, I had a great night. I went to Jo’s. Her family had a big cookout and set up lawn chairs for the neighborhood’s fireworks display. I sent pictures and videos to Raven and River. They were so jealous.”
“I imagine they were. I know you girls were raised here and Ireland, but the United States has some pretty great holidays—and we know how to celebrate them.”
“Food!” Rowan grinned.
“Which reminds me, find out what Jo wants to eat, and Tina will order everything. We can celebrate your masterpiece,” Matilda said, smiling softly at Rowan.
“Sounds amazing. I’ll text Jo while I pour us a drink. We need whiskey after our tear fest.”
“I like that plan, and while we wait for Jo, you can tell me why you’re avoiding my son.”
7
Bran
“Should we tell Dad?” Bran asked Patrick. Pat and River had come to speak with him and Raven this morning. It was eleven. He and Patrick had received the email from their dad an hour ago. Everyone decided to meet and discuss what should or could, be done about the shitstorm on the horizon.
“River and I need to decide if we call Rowan or not as well.”
Bran gripped Raven’s hand tighter. They were sitting in the living room. It was a beautiful day, with sunlight shining on part of Daniel’s playmat. His son was currently grabbing his toes while he watched a mobile swing above his head. Bran smiled. His son always made him smile. Becoming a father had given him some insight into his own parent. Dad cared more about his sons’ happiness than his own. He always had, and that’s why the stubborn sonofabitch left them without a word of warning.
Sighing and rubbing a hand over his face, Patrick answered Bran. “Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t want him in Oklahoma by himself, and I know he supposedly has all these plans, but none of us believe him. He’s running. He’s never run from anything.”
River snorted. “Yeah, he’s running alright, straight into the arms of the person he was running from.”
“There is some poetic justice in that,” Raven acknowledged.
“I don’t disagree, babe, but we still need to figure out what to do.” Bran was slightly embarrassed about the tears that had pricked his eyes when he’d read the email and Raven’s hug of comfort that followed.
Of course, she understood what it felt like. Raven and River missed Rowan. They hated the separation. His dad had only just left, and he felt the empty space he should have been filling already. Of course, only Dad would give his sons to-do lists on his way out. Damn it. He’d known he and Pat would try to talk him out of leaving. He wasn’t wrong.
River looked at Raven for a moment, almost like they were communicating in some secret, silent sister language. Raven nodded. They’d decided onsomething.
River smiled at Patrick before sitting up straighter to address the room. “Raven and I think we shouldn’t tell either of them anything. They made this mess, and they can damn well figure out how to fix their mess together.”
“Dad doesn’t do well with surprises, Riv,” Patrick ventured.
Raven laughed then. “Your father doesn’t like a lot of shit, Pat.”
“True,” Patrick chuckled.
“So, we do—nothing?” Bran asked.
“For now,” River confirmed. “Both of them will be calling us by this afternoon to chew our asses, but again, that’s athemproblem. Also, Row has been staying in your grandmother’s penthouse for weeks. Rowan asked Tilly not to tell Hugh. She agreed, which means your grandma may not know what’s going on, but she’s no fool. She chose not to tell her son for a reason. We’ll have her support.”
