“Only because you’re a gynecologist who’s afraid of women,” I mumble.
He groans louder and turns away, resettling himself on the couch. “I’m not even engaging with you on that one.”
My pout returns. I’m slightly disappointed in my victory, maybe because I expected him to put up more of a fight.
“So, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” I venture quietly after a while.
His smile reappears when he glances up at me, keeping his eyes trained on my face this time. “I didn’t want to be a needy guest, but I’m definitely aware that we skipped dinner.”
“I’m sure I can throw something together that’s kosher for you, but you should probably oversee it, just to be safe,” I offer.
He nods and follows me into the kitchen, and we go about the business of sorting through the fridge before settling on grilled cheese sandwiches. It’s endearing when he insists on helping.
“This is perfect for meat-free Fridays,” he tells me while I plate our sandwiches. “My options are limited without peanuts, especially since I try to avoid the other likely suspects, like tree nuts, soy, and chickpeas, just in case.”
I ladle some of the marinara sauce I made from scratch onto our plates, and he brings them around to the bar, where I’ve already set out a glass of lemonade for each of us. It feels very domestic, I realize as we sit beside one another, and I don’t hate it.
Rowan surprises me by stopping to bow his head, presumably to say grace. I’m not sure whether I feel more relieved or slighted when he doesn’t ask me to join him.
He smiles up at me once he’s done making the Sign of the Cross, then reaches out to cover my hand with his. “Thanks for this. Not only would I have contracted hypothermia by now, but I’m sure I would have starved without your help tonight.”
I swallow hard when he squeezes my hand. “No worries. Like I said before, I couldn’t let you bother the newlyweds on their well-deserved honeymoon.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, his smile widening. “And I definitely didn’t mind the company.”
“Right, especially since I was small enough to fit in that crawlspace,” I reply on a light laugh, attempting to free my hand. But he tightens his hold and keeps his gaze locked onto mine.
“Because you make everything more fun,” he says, sounding almost breathless. “Even busted pipes and emergency room visits.”
I lick my lips when his thumb begins stroking the side of my wrist. “Yeah. I’ve been having fun with you, too. Well, except for the parts when I end up crying, but I guess that’s not completely your fault.”
He smiles shyly. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I really do like learning everything there is to know about you.” He pauses to swallow. “And speaking of confessions, there’s something I feel like I should tell you. Something about me you probably need to know.”
“You’re not a serial killer, are you?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
But he brushes over my question, his expression hardening. “Remember how my family sort of teased me for talking to you at the wedding reception?”
“Yeah?” My heart is racing so fast that I can hardly hear him at this point.
“I … well, in the past, I’ve mostly dated women who were … religious … like me.”
I furrow my brow and manage to yank my hand back this time. “That’s why you were embarrassed to be seen with me,” I say flatly. “Because I’m divorced, and I don’t go to church.”
“But it’s not that simple?—”
“It’s fine, Rowan,” I interrupt him and shake my head. “You’ve already apologized. And I thought we weren’t doing this anymore? We’re supposed to be keeping it light … and fun.”
He blows out a breath and lets his head hang. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“So, what are you going to do about your sister’s house?” I ask after the silence stretches out too long.
“Know any decent plumbers I can call?” he quips as he picks acorner of grilled cheese and dips it into the sauce. Once I take the first bite, I realize I’m hungrier than I thought, and it doesn’t take either of us long to devour our sandwiches.
I give him a rundown of our options for construction and maintenance services, and he continues asking questions about our small town while we finish dinner. Eventually, I go to the freezer to grab dessert. He turns down an ice cream sandwich after checking the label, but he accepts the frozen fruit bar I offer next. We sit together and slurp our popsicles as he listens to my rambling about the state of life in Camellia, his attention rapt.
“How did you even end up here?”
I wince at the question. “It’s a long story, but I basically followed my ex. He’s from the next town over, and we moved into this place after I started teaching at Camellia High.”
