Rowan slips out beside me. “Well, before you leave town, stop by and I’ll pack some food for you for the road.”
Daddy grins. “That’d be amazing. Everything was delicious.”
“Thank you. Thank you both.” Rowan accepts the praise with flushed cheeks and a grin.
“Rowan, this place truly is fantastic,” Dad says, patting Rowan on his shoulder.
“Thank you, thank you both,” he says, subtle emotion welling in his eyes. “I appreciate you coming.”
“And the name,” Daddy says, perusing the design of the bar with a glint in his eyes. “It’s so strange; I love it.”
Rowan grins proudly. “It was Natalia who gave me the idea, actually.”
I blink at him. “I did?”
Rowan nods and puts his arm across my lap, his fingers grazing the outside of my knee—an affection I never thought someone like him would show to someone like me. “Natalia’s favorite movie isBeetlejuice.”
“How do you know that?” I whisper, but I’m ignored when Daddy speaks over my hushed voice.
Daddy laughs. “I remember when she had that journal.The Handbook for the Recently Deceased,I think it’s called.”
“It is,” I confirm and shudder as Rowan’s fingertips continue to brush across my shoulder.
Right now is one of those moments where I don’t know if I want to slap him or kiss him.
“Everythingin her room wasBeetlejuice.”
“And her costume,” Rowan adds, chuckling.
I gape at him and pinch his rib. “Donotbring up that costume.”
“It was the messiest costume I’ve ever seen you in, Natalia.” Rowan laughs sweetly, his eyes soft with conviction and what I fear might even be a bit of adoration. “You had a green wig.”
“It was a bad wig,” I hiss, and my dads laugh.
“I found it,” Dad says and turns his phone to show us.
“Dad,” I warn but I’m ignored again—my dads and fake boyfriend enjoying the worstBeetlejuicecostume in history from when I was thirteen. “Please.”
“It’s adorable,” Daddy says. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“Mine too.” Rowan squeezes my knee and kisses the side of my head.
This feels too real, too fast.Too much.
I can’t breathe.I can’t breathe.
My chest hurts.
“I—I need a minute,” I rasp to Rowan.
“Natalia, sweetie?” Dad questions, brows pinched in worry.
“I’m okay.” I pat Rowan’s thigh. “I just need fresh air. Rowan?”
“Of course,” Rowan says and stands. He holds out his hand for me, his eyes locked in with mine.
Tonight has been…strange. Perhaps even unnecessary. I didn’t have to lie to my parents, but lying to them about my wellbeing has become a habit. There’s a heavy guilt I tend to feel when I become a burden to other people, and I did not want to feel that while my dads were traveling the world. I still don’t. They deserve to see the world and be together in peace.
