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“No, no, no.” Harry reached out a pleading hand. “Please don’t do that. Don’t ‘Harrison’ me right now.”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. The latent wildness in her eyes and her spring-tight posture gave Harry pause. He let his hand fall.
Her words came fast. Defensive. “I told you I’d take Lena’s letters for you, remember? I wanted to protect you.”
“I know. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She looked at his bare feet, then back up to meet his eyes. “I don’t suppose Nicola Brady is another sister you haven’t told me about.” The muscles in her neck quivered.
“No.”
“Cousin?”
“No.”
“Who is she, Harry?”
Pressure built inside his skull. He’d dreaded this moment for months, trying and failing to decide on a way to tell her. Fighting with himself over whether heshouldtell her. Rationalizing that it didn’t matter, she was leaving anyway.No strings,she’d said. No backstory. And then, by the time he felt like heneededto tell her, he was in too deep to risk losing her over it.
He’d hated himself for his cowardice. Another drop of self-loathing in an already overflowing bucket.
“My wife,” Harry said. “Myex-wife.”
Rowan’s nostrils flared as she sucked in a breath. “You were married.”
“I was.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Christ,his feet hurt. Deep down, self-righteous frustration swirled with desperation. “Why didn’tyoutell me about Noah?”
“How do you know—” She stiffened, then thrust up her chin. “Don’t answer my questions with a question.”
“It’s completely irrelevant that I was married before.”
Her hands fisted at her sides. “You don’t get to decide what’s relevant to me.”
You should have fucking listened to Temperance.
Harry’s gut tightened. Frustration became annoyance, igniting the fuse on his temper. “Youinsisted this was casual. Casual doesn’t require backstory, remember? What do you want, Rowan? You can’t have it both ways. Do you want everything, or do you want no strings?”
She ignored that. “When did it end?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Goddamn it, Harrison. Tell me.”
Harry blew a bullish breath from his nose and tamed his tone. “The beginning of the end was more than two years ago.We barely saw each other the last year of our residencies. She slept at the hospital most nights. Separation began last May. A few weeks after—Cora. Divorce was final in November.”
Rowan looked beyond him as she did the math.
“November—” She dashed a hand over her face. “How long had you been together?”
“Jesus, Rowan.”
“How long?” she growled.
Harry sighed at the sky, then pinned her eyes with his. “Four years.”
