“Home.”
“Oh.”
The silence stretches, the both of us allowing it to. As much as I love lying alone with Binx in the dark, every cell and bone in my body is hyperaware of the missing piece.
“Are you okay?” Rowan finally asks.
“I don’t know,” I breathe out. “I think I just need some time…from the outside world. A?—”
“A mental health break,” he finishes. “You deserve one.”
“Hmm.” My lips twitch with something just shy of a smile.
“I went to The Black Cat for my lunch-time cupcake,” Rowan states. “You weren’t there; I missed you.”
“Which cupcake?” I ask, walking around the fact he missed me.
“Red velvet coconut.”
“I just baked some,” I say, a quiet invitation. “If you want…”
“I’ll be right there.” I hear his smile through his words.
“Why? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I own the place,” he says. “And I have sous chefs; they’re good at their jobs.”
“Are they better chefs than you are?” I tease.
Rowan’s laugh comes through the phone like a symphony. “I’d like to think we’re all equally as talented with our food.”
I huff. “Okay. Um, I’m home.”
“I know.” He chuckles. “I’m already on my way.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” he says. “Would you like me to stay on the phone until I get there?”
“Um—” I drop my thumb from my mouth and twirl the hem of my shirt around my fingers. “How far are you?”
“About three minutes,” he says. “Two now.”
I snort wearily. “Don’t speed.”
“Never. I’m not you.”
“Hey!” I chuckle. “I don’t speed. I’m lead-footed.”
“Tomato, toh-mah-to.” Rowan laughs softly.
“You’re such a dork,” I mutter.
“I’m parking,” he says. “Lucky me, I got a spot right in front.”
“Okay.”
“Buzz me up?”
