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I hesitantly got out of bed and showered, having slept in my dress from the funeral. The sounds and smells of breakfast wafted up the stairs as I started walking down, but Aubrey grabbed my arm before I made it to the last step.
“Ethan’s mom showed me his grandma’s veil, and she wants me to wear it. I don’t know if I want to, but I don’t know how to say no.”
“You just say no.”
“You’re not helping me,” she whined, stomping her feet playfully. “They’re taking advantage of me and all the funeral stuff and guilting me into this. Come here and see it.” She tugged on my arm and dragged me with her across the hall to the back porch. Blinded by the glistening bay, I had to blink my irises back to see the lace veil hanging from the wall.
“Vintage.” I shrugged, offering my most sympathetic smile. “It’s beautiful, and it’d look great on you, but if you don’t want a veil, then tell them.”
“I’ll ask them.” Aubrey nodded behind me toward the backyard. I turned to see Rowan walking up from the water, laughing with Ezra. When they got closer to the house and noticed Aubrey waving them down, they both ran over, asking what happened, how they could help. Typical charismatic, protective knights of Queen Aubrey.
“What,” she placed the veil on her head and continued, “do you think?”
“I don’t,” Ezra froze, looking at Rowan and me, “um, what does Mer think?”
“Hey,” Ethan called from inside, just about to open the door to the porch as Rowan leaped to close it and block him.
“Just a minute,” he told Ethan, laughing while Ezra, Aubrey and I frantically and carefully packed away the antique lace.
“I’ve got breakfast,” Ethan told us, his back against the door, “so let me in or I’m eating it all.”
I fixed Aubrey’s hair and hugged her as Rowan opened the door so Ethan could join us on the porch. Ezra dropped his arm around my shoulders as we walked to the small dining table overlooking the backyard. Rowan and Aubrey sat across from us, with Ethan at the head of the table.
“How did you sleep?” Ethan asked, passing the tray of cinnamon rolls to Rowan.
“Like a log,” Ezra replied, unfolding his napkin.
“Best sleep I’ve had in years,” Rowan winked at me, popping a grape into his mouth.
I hoped I had two months left at work, so the fact he was about to consume part of my life with be worth it.
ELEVEN
August
The Emeralds had a three-game series in Minnesota after we came home from the funeral. I worked every day on a new project with Dane, hoping to connect more students with community leaders. It consumed my days until Wednesday afternoon when Maggie burst into my office.
“You have a visitor,” she mouthed, words somehow failing her. “It’s,” Maggie shook her hands, “Rowan Ellis.”
“Great,” I replied, finishing an email. “Send him in.” I guess we were officially fake-official then.
“Mmm,” Maggie squealed in a high pitch hum when she returned, standing behind Rowan.
“Thanks, Maggie,” he told her, flashing the billboard smile that caused her to stammer and fumble with the doorway as she left us.
“Close the door,” I told him, rolling my eyes at Maggie’s departure. “That was an incredible game last night. The eighth inning? You owned it,” I complimented him, rewarded with a new bashful Rowan who fought a smile.
“Thank you,” he told me, settling into the chair across from my desk. “I’m sorry to come by without calling beforehand, but I realized I don’t have your phone number.”
“Right. You’ll need that for your pretend booty calls,” I teased.
“And when I want to ask you out for a proper dinner,” he added, “as pretend.”
“Pretend,” I agreed, giving him my number. “Is that all?”
Rowan looked at his watch and then at me. “It’s five. Let’s go. I made a reservation. It’s very public, but not invasive. It’ll be a good start. Maybe some hand holding?”
Maggie’s mouth nearly touched the floor as she watched Rowan and I leave, his hand pressed against the small of my back while guiding me from the office.
