“Well, forgive me for worrying about my brother’s heart and his virtue.”
“I’m perfectly capable of minding those myself, Maggie, but thanks for your concern,” Rowan’s deep voice rumbles through the kitchen, and my stomach dips.
“We just don’t want to see either of you get hurt,” someone adds, maybe Heath’s wife. “I can’t imagine how hard it would be if you fell for one another and then found out it wasn’t meant to be.”
My eyes sting at the reminder that every person in the room doubts I’m good enough for him, Rowan included. It especially hurts when I stop to think that Daisy and Naomi wouldn’t have felt the need to half-ass defend me if they didn’t recognize that this is a mistake. And the fact that I didn’t hear his mother chiming in on my behalf doesn’t make me feel any better.
I fight against a sob as I attempt to silently slink out of the house, but Frankie yips and comes waddling over before I can make it to safety. I curse under my breath and blink back my tears before I venture into the kitchen.
“Claire,” Daisy’s hand flies up to her chest. “Have you been back there long?”
“Just walked in from the barn,” I say, tugging on my overalls. “I hesitated to bring the outside in.”
I avoid looking at Rowan, but I can feel his gaze on me. “The kids have Oscar in the living room, so whenever you’re ready …” he directs at me.
“Oh, no, you’re not leaving already?” Mrs. LaFleur says, walking across the kitchen. I suppose she could have been out of the room before, but I still can’t imagine she wouldn’t have sided with her daughters.
“Thanks again for having us. Happy Easter, everyone.” I barely manage to say the words without my voice cracking. Rowan’s mom shuffles over to give me a hug, and a tear accidentally slips out whenshe adds some affirmations about my return. But I don’t even hear them, not really.
“See you later?” Daisy asks when I pass by and don’t stop to embrace her.
“Mm-hmm,” I agree and focus on dodging the rest of them on the way to Rowan’s truck.
“How much of that did you hear?” he asks when we finally settle inside.
“Why? What did I miss?”
He sighs. “You’re not a very good liar, Claire.”
If he only knew. “Okay, fine. I walked in when someone was talking about your virtue. I assume that means your sisters finally arranged that intervention after they heard you’d gone off the deep end and started screwing around with a divorced heathen,” I say nonchalantly, as if the offense disappears with a wave of my hand.
“You know that’s not what they meant, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” I retort. Because they meant worse. “But they’re right.”
He growls. “When are we going to get past this?”
“You tell me. Which one of us is more stubborn?”
“You might have a harder head, but I have more patience. So I guess we’ll see which of us outlasts the other,” he replies.
I roll my eyes and open my mouth to respond, but I’m cut off by the sound of my phone ringing. “Ugh. I was going to say the timing was perfect, except it’s my mom.”
“Then answer it,” Rowan insists.
I scoff. “I’m not gonna?—”
Then the son of a biscuit baker reaches over and accepts the call.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
rowan
“What am I doing?Well, I’m …”
Claire glares angrily as she fumbles her way out of her mom’s invitation to Easter dinner.
“Don’t lie to her,” I whisper, and she groans.
