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It didn’t seem to bother him that I didn’t say it back. Couldn’t was more appropriate. I loved him. Of course, I did. Who wouldn’t? But like some heroine in some stupid romantic comedy, I couldn’t actually say the words. They were stuck. The truth was, I was worried if I said the words aloud, it would set off some chain reaction, make the bad things start happening.
So, I didn’t say it.
Ansel was finally visiting in two days. It was the longest we’d been apart, and I missed him. Not only that, I wanted Rowan to meet him. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t say the words. Because I needed Rowan to know me entirely. Needed to be complete in that way first. And I truly wasn’t complete without Ansel.
So yes, things were going well. Really fucking well.
Things going well usually meant something terrible was coming. I’d learned that. Worrying was my way of coping, my way of preparing. If I wasn’t ready, my anxiety serving as an invisible buffer from whatever was coming, the terrible thing would catch me by surprise, knocking me off my feet.
The problem was, I had a man who was making me happy. Healthy. I worried less. A lot less. Especially since I’d told him all about my crazy. He hadn’t gone running. Didn’t even flutter an eyelash. He took it in stride. Took me in stride.
So, I stopped.
Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Not completely, of course. I had endured years of trauma, creating multiple layers of anxiety. That didn’t get fixed overnight. Or by being with a man I was utterly in love with.
The man who had yet to show any of his imperfections to me beyond his over-the-top, protective, alpha tendencies. Which I didn’t hate a bit, even if they didn’t align with the feminist I knew myself to be.
I couldn’t imagine falling asleep without him. Without my body satisfied from his touch.
Nor could I imagine days when he didn’t visit the bakery. I struggled to remember the time that existed before us. We were in a bubble. That magical bubble that was created in the beginning of a relationship, when lust burned hot, and everything was new, special and exciting.
I still got butterflies. Even though he was basically living with me. And they didn’t feel like the fleeting kind of butterflies you get when you first start a relationship; they felt permanent.
I knew we had to have some conversations. The kinds of conversations two adults in a relationship had. Like where this was going. If we were going to live together, where would that be? I liked Rowan’s house a lot, but my home was sacred to me. It was something I’d created. Not to mention it now had Rowan’s touch on it. I couldn’t even think of letting it go in the same way I couldn’t let my bakery go.
And if we were going to live together, what did that look like?
Rowan struck me as the kind of man who would insist on taking care of all of the bills, and that would not work for me. I’d grinded, hustled and worked my ass off in order to afford my lifestyle. To earn it. I wouldn’t hand it over to a man. Even this man.
Yes, all sorts of conversations needed to be had.
“You’re not allowed to keep coming here,” I scolded him, trying to keep a straight face and make my tone firm with disapproval.
But I failed miserably.
Rowan’s eyes twinkled as he looked at me like I was the only person in the room. The only person on the planet.
It wasn’t something you got used to. And despite the warmth his gaze provided, there was a slice of ice, buried deep in my heart, whispering that this wasn’t going to last. That this wasn’t how it ended for me.
“Why do I need to stop coming here?” he asked, voice like honey. A rich, masculine kind of honey, though.
“Because,” I sighed. “You’re much too distracting, and I’ve got to get work done.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “And you can’t work when I’m around?”
“It’s exceptionally hard.”
“But I’m only here two times a day.”
“Three,” I corrected him. “You come in the morning before anyone else is here.”
“We both do,” he teased, leaning forward to coil my hair around his finger.
My whole body tingled from his touch, from the hungry look in his eye, from the memories of what he did when he came in the mornings.
I smiled lazily back at him, leaning forward, not caring whether our public display of affection was unprofessional in my place of business.
The smile froze on my face as my eyes swung toward the door and settled on the person walking through it. My heart stopped beating, and everything inside me turned to ice.
Rowan ceased to exist. The world around me ceased to exist. I didn’t remember doing it, but I must’ve walked around the counter and met her at the door. There was no other explanation for how I was standing in front of her in one slow blink.
