He nodded, his jaw still set. He made to run his hand through his hair but stopped halfway through the motion, as if just remembering the buzz cut he’d gotten at the start of summer.
“Rowan, I don’t get it,” I said, starting to feel less indignant and more hurt. I felt breathless, like we’d been sparring and someone had suddenly thrust something sharp and lethal between my ribs. Had I done something wrong? This had to be Ro’s way of lashing out because of everything that was happening with his mom. Right?
“There’s nothing to get,” Rowan said, his voice a whisper. “Just like ... imagine if this was your mom.”
He walked out of the kitchen, leaving me standing there, stunned. The last thing he said was the worst.
Imagine if this was your mom.
Was he fucking serious?
I didn’t need to imagine anything. I didn’t love Mel any less because she hadn’t given birth to me. I didn’tneedto be a six-foot-one prick named Rowan Cohen to feel how devastating even the thought of a world without Mel would be.
I stormed back into the dining room and sat down. Beside me, Naomi was refilling her glass of water. I stole a glance at her, at the white-blond hair she wore in a stylish bob. She and Mel had been friends for twenty years. She didn’t need to pass a freaking 23andMe test, and no one was asking her to leave. Who the hell did Rowan think he was?
As I scooped more pasta onto my plate, I felt Ro’s glare bouncing off the top of my head, but I kept going until I had enough food for two people.
Even though my stomach still felt unsettled, I shoveled a forkful of pasta into my mouth.
“This is really good. Thanks, Mel,” I said.
For the next few minutes I ate in silence while Naomi and Mel kept the small talk going.
When I felt Rowan’s gaze on me again, I met his eyes, expecting to see the same annoyed look he’d been giving me for the last five minutes, but instead there was something I couldn’t place. Something like desperation.
Pleading.
His eyes were pleading.
I shot him my own look, one I hoped conveyed my hurt and anger at everything he’d said to me in the kitchen.I can’t believe you asked me to leave.
He lowered his gaze then, as if he could no longer meet my eye.
I couldn’t understand it. Was he ashamed? That made no sense—what did he have to be ashamed of? This was about Mel; it had nothing to do with him.
I kept staring at Ro’s bowed head, imploring him to look at me. This wordless conversation wasn’t over yet. But his eyes stayed fixed on the table, and in that moment, all his anger and bravado and Ro-ness was gone. He was just ... sad.
And something else I couldn’t explain.
Shit.
I could deal with Rowan if he was just being a bully, hurting me because something bad was happening with his mom and he needed somebody to take it out on. But this wasn’t that.
I didn’t understand what was happening. I’d never seen him like this. He seemed desperate for me to do this for him.
For me to go.
My instinct was to stay and make him tell me what was wrong, to stay and hear what Mel had to say after dinner, but Rowan’s sad eyes kept avoiding mine.
Until I heard myself standing, pushing my plate away.
“Oh God, Mel,” I said. “I’m so sorry. I just remembered I have this really big assignment due ... and also a quiz ... and my dad will kill me if I fail.”
I heard myself mumbling a string of excuses.
In the end, I couldn’t even remember everything I said.
I just knew that Ro still wouldn’t meet my eye as I packed up and that Luke stared at me, confused, the whole time.
