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“You can still tell me that.” Winking at him, I slid from the table as Anthony approached with two women behind him.
“Here they are,” Anthony announced, waving to Rowan and I. “Portland’s most loved couple.”
Rowan and I exchanged a quick glance, his shrug and smile almost adorable. The women introduced themselves as journalists for the magazine and asked us a few questions. I felt guilty not finishing my gardening duties, but that wasn’t my only job that day.
“How does it happen that you’re both from the same region and you met out here?” One journalist asked, taking notes on everything we said. Everyone knew Rowan grew up in Chicago and moved to Portland when he was a teenager, but it sounded juicier when questioned by a journalist.
“Chicago and Milwaukee aren’t too far apart,” I interjected, watching Rowan bite his lip. Trying to cover for his awkward silence, I kept going. “And many people from the Midwest have moved out here. I came for college. That’s actually where we met.”
“I just keep wondering if I ran into her at a Cubs game,” he finally added, squeezing my hand. “If we’d known each other before meeting out here.”
“Brewers game,” I corrected, lightly knocking him in the arm.
“You’re meant to be,” the other reported gushed. Rowan answered the rest of their questions, responding politely and with charm when they tried flirting with him through the interview. They couldn’t help it, and part of me didn’t blame them because it wasn’t a secret how hot he was. Even I couldn’t deny that.
We finished the day in the early afternoon, once the mayor celebrated everyone’s efforts and allowed time for the players to meet with everyone. Watching Rowan play with kids melted even the coldest heart. He was happy out there, charming everyone like the extrovert he was. When we were driving back to his house for the dinner he promised as part of signing me up to spend all day in the park, I felt relaxed for the first time in weeks.
“Thank you again for coming today.”
“Easiest contest I’ve been part of.” I smiled, rolling down my window to twist the warm summer air between my fingers.
“I know our relationship is fake,” Rowan told me as he pulled into his garage, waiting until we climbed out of the car before continuing, “but our friendship doesn’t have to be.”
“I know,” I replied, considering how random that comment was. “Are you trying to tell me you like spending time with me, Rowan?”
“Whatever, Meredith.” Rowan chuckled as he let us inside. His cat quickly ran to the door, rubbing against our ankles as we headed toward the kitchen. “How do you feel about steak?”
“Your attempts to fake woo me are winning.” I smiled, leaning against the kitchen island, chuckling to myself about standing in there with Charity the night I fed the cat. That seemed to be our turning point. A favor turned into an even bigger one.
As Rowan took ingredients from the fridge and started prepping dinner, he told me about the upcoming schedule for his games and how he’d be away until after the following weekend. Of course, like the good fake girlfriend I am, I offered to feed the cat again as long as he promised nobody would drop by unannounced.
I sorted through a cabinet, looking for a cutting board, curiously studying the copper pots and pans. “Are these all yours? You have enough to bake for an army.”
“No. Most of that is my grandma’s.” He carried a tray out to the backyard, where he turned on the grill. I joined after I’d sliced some fruit, sitting on one of the plush chairs on his patio.
“Was everything okay when the journalist asked about where we grew up?”
“Why?”
“You just seemed sort of tense. I would’ve shut that woman down if I knew something was off limits.”
Rowan closed the grill and turned to me, his mouth a flat line. “It’s personal.”
“I’m one of your persons.” I looked around. “I don’t see any other friends pretending to be in love with you to save your career.”
“We all have limits.” He gruffly responded, cracking open a beer. The arrogant, icy exterior was painful to watch. Thankfully, I didn’t need to stick around for it. I tried to help, but he turned to stone.
“I guess you just divvy them out for others rather than sharing your own so others can help you,” I scoffed, standing up and walking closer to him. “I’m not trying to push you—”
“Then don’t!” Rowan barked, tossing his beer can and storming back into the kitchen.
“Rowan, what the hell?” I followed him, barely keep up with his long strides as he climbed his stairs. He came down a moment later, pulling an Emeralds sweatshirt on when he stopped in the middle of the stairs, towering over me.
“You don’t get to know every painful detail. You’re not my girlfriend, Meredith!”
“Thank god for that,” I rebuked, sneering with disgust at his attitude. I grabbed my purse from the table in his front hallway, sifting through for some cash as I tried to figure out just how his words made me feel. Angry? Hurt? Ashamed? I tossed the bills I could find on the table and looked back at him. “That’s for dinner.”
My car was still at the park, so I walked out of Rowan’s house without a plan. Not ready to walk through the park at night and get eaten by a rabid raccoon, I started the long walk back to my apartment. Of course, he didn’t come after me, or text, because he was always going to be Rowan Ellis. And why did I care? It’s Rowan Ellis, for the sake of all things holy.
