AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I sit in stunned silence as Rowan turns to me, and the finality in that stare makes my heart ache. I struggle to keep the hurt from my voice when I say, “Right. Once we’re divorced, you can wash your hands of this town forever.”
He hears what I’ve left unsaid. That he’s not just leaving Magnolia Creek, but that he’s also leaving me.
The voice in my head, shouting that he can’t leave, makes me angry. I have no right to care about what happens to this place or Rowan after it’s all said and done, so why do I?
His shoulders drop. “I?—”
“No, it’s okay,” I amend quickly, because there’s no sense in feeling any sort of way about him when I’ve known since the beginning what this was. “I think I’ll head to bed now, but thank you for the drink.”
After replacing my glass beside the half empty decanter, I stand.
God, I’m such a silly, pathetic girl.
“Molly,” he says, stepping toward me.
Twin lines form between his brows, mirroring my own confusion, and I hate that the most, because I don’t want to muddy this up for us.
“I’m okay.” I swallow a stupid knot that I blame entirely on the whiskey. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He looks at war with himself as he watches me go, but this time, he doesn’t follow.
Chapter Fifteen
Molly
Rowan and I spend a grueling morning making wedding plans under the watchful eye of Thomas’s estate manager and will executor, Patricia.
She stands in the corner of the dining room, observing us with a cross between a sneer and outright suspicion. I can’t tell if she likes me or not, but as long as Rowan and I follow the terms of our engagement exactly as it’s written, our agreement stays intact and that’s all that matters.
After allowing my emotions to get away from me last night, I decided to refocus my energy strictly on the wedding and off any thoughts involving my fiancé. A feat that would be a hell of a lot easier if the broody billionaire next to me wasn’t suddenly being so thoughtful.
Waking up to breakfast in bed was a nice surprise, but when two men came to install a flatscreen in my room shortly after, I stormed across the house to find the man responsible.
I took one look at him with his laptop on the lounger in the library nook—barefoot, wearing blue-light glasses, and unaware that his shirt had risen enough to show a patch of his lower abdomen—and nearly pounced on him.
“Remove it,” I said sharply. “And while we’re at it, I’m adding ‘no romantic gestures’ to the rules.”
By his obvious amusement, he knew exactly which ‘it’ I was referring to.
He simply raised a brow, not bothering to look up from his work. “It’s a TV, kitten, not roses.”
The problem is, it may as well be twelve dozen roses, and I don’t need any more reasons to let my guard down around him.
I scoot my chair closer to Rowan as Kenzie, our wedding planner, splays several thick binders out on the dining room table before us.
She’s going on about various details I’m not paying attention to because Rowan’s knee keeps bumping mine under the table. I cut him a glance, annoyed when he pretends he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.
“Stop it,” I murmur when she turns to grab a box of ribbon samples.
“Stop what?” he asks innocently.
“Touching me.”
Now his fingers are brushing mine, and a wisp of heat licks up my middle.
My fingernails scrape the tablecloth, and I wince when Rowan practically purrs, “Something bothering you, wife?”
“Nothing at all, my love.” My hand finds his thigh, and I give him a punishing squeeze to knock it off.
