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Ma’s voice was muted by the clamor in his head. “Welcome home, darling.” The others greeted him, too. But sights and sounds were dampened. Blood slowed in his veins. Until tenseconds ago, he’d been on the path to normalcy. A quiet, ordinary life.
Now? He was right back in that moment she’d run away from him in the meadow.
“Please, if you care for me, make this easy. For both of us.”
None of it had beeneasy. Admitting to himself that, no, the way he felt about her wouldn’t ever have been enough to overcome her bone-deep distrust—it had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. All of his sanctimonious confidence that he could eventually change her mind,fixher—it had all been a naive dream.
Gently, without taking her eyes off him, Rowan handed the baby to Frankie, who passed him on to Maren. Acid flooded Harry’s gut, and he took an instinctive step backward. Damn it, when she’d shifted to hand the baby over, he imagined he could smell her herbal perfume all the way across the room. He should have sensed it the second he’d entered the house and turned to run like hell.
He couldstillrun like hell.
Rowan’s chair noisily scraped the floor when she stood. Everyone else had fallen silent and remained seated, even the kids. Like they’d been anticipating this moment.
What would she do if he left? Chase him?
Her lips were pressed between her teeth, and her eyes were as wide as he’d ever seen them. Pale hands with bone-white knuckles clenched a cloth napkin.
Howdareshe look so fucking vulnerable. “I thought you said she wasn’t here, Mother.” Harry’s scalp prickled. His gaze didn’t divert from Rowan’s.
Ma cleared her throat and raised a finger. “When we spoke, she was not.” Her eyes turned hard as obsidian as she stepped confidently onto metaphorical maternal high ground. “And don’t you call me ‘Mother’ in that tone of voice, Harrison Bryant.”
Dad put his napkin down beside his plate and sat up taller, his shoulders somehow broadening. A timeless, wordless signal he would not hesitate to take an out-of-line child—grown or not—right the hell away from the dinner table if they didn’t shape up.
Harry was trapped. This was a fucking ambush, and his entire family was complicit.
“Sit down,” Dad said in his most compelling dad-voice. Rowan quickly plunked down in her chair, bobbling a water glass as she scooted up to the table. Dad chuckled and patted her hand. “I was talking to Harry, sweetheart.”
Harry glowered at his traitorous father.
The only empty chair was the one directly across the table fromher.
His stomach spasmed at the thought of having to look at her over the entire meal. But Harry sat as he was told and slapped his napkin onto his lap.
“Why is she here?” Harry asked Ma.
“I’m sitting right across from you. Ask me yourself,” Rowan said.
Harry sat forward and rubbed his brow bones. Wouldn’t look at her.
Conversation resumed, slow and stilted at first. Maren nursed the baby while she and Nate chatted with Frankie about promotional photography for the new website. Ma attempted to engage Malcolm in a conversation about his newest bestseller but was met with typical vague half answers. The kids were enthralled with Mercy and Duncan, who challenged them with rapid-fire riddles. Patrick was ineffectively attempting to convince Arden to consider going into prepharmacy. Dad oversaw the whole thing like it was his domestic kingdom—a glass of wine in one hand, a napkin in the collar of his shirt, and a self-satisfied smile on his face.
“You look good, Harrison,” Rowan said.
Harrison.
She was baiting him. The back of his neck might burst into flames.
And that was it? He lookedgood? It was so deliberately neutral, so pleasant and polite, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Ifeelgood, too. It’s incredible what a difference a healthy environment makes.” He crooked a finger in the neck of his shirt, opened a button, and finally met her eyes across the table.
When her expression briefly crumpled, guilt crept in, and he kicked it down. Heneededto see the pain in her eyes to feed his resolve. When he finally tore his attention away from her, Maren was looking right at him, a subtle smile curving her mouth.
Shit.
He poured himself wine nearly to the rim of a tall water glass. If the kids hadn’t been there, he’d have swigged straight from the bottle.
With the one-handed efficiency of a father of three, Nate deftly wielded his fork over his infant son’s dusky head to take a bite of beans. Baby Leo was supported under his puffy diapered butt by only the palm of his father’s other hand.
Still chewing, Nate stood and moved around the table. “You wanna hold him?” He handed the baby to Harry before he could answer.
