“Wait,” he interrupts me. “Last night, you weren’t just upset because of the way I acted in front of Daisy and Landry. You were hurt because … because I got you to let down your walls, but I hadn’t taken mine down for you.”
Butterflies swirl around inside my belly, but he seems too preoccupied with his remorse to notice he’s hit a nerve this time. He blows out a dejected breath before he continues. “I can’t even get an apology right, even after you told me exactly what I’ve been doing wrong. I’m sorry, Claire.”
I swallow hard. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”
“No, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have used this as an opportunity to clear my conscience; that’s what the confessional is for. I’m supposed to be putting your feelings first.”
“You’ve said enough, Rowan.” I move to bring my mug to the sink, but he reaches out and grabs my arm. He stares at me, warming my insides, then he silently pulls me in and wraps his arms around me. His chest expands against my cheek, and he kisses the top of my head.
“We probably shouldn’t be hugging while we’re both pants-less,” I say, but I don’t move away, either.
“I’ve hugged you in less, though I suppose that’s what got us into trouble in the first place,” he murmurs, and I barely manage to hide the shiver that runs through me.
“Your breath is terrible,” I lie, and he chuckles as he loosens his hold on me.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he blurts out before darting back into the laundry room and then sprinting over to the hall bathroom with his pants around his ankles. He emerges a few seconds later, swishing something around in his mouth while he struggles to zip his pants, and stops to spit what looks like mouthwash into the kitchen sink.
“You’re not getting away that easily now,” he says, smiling and fixing his eyeson mine.
I stick out my lip in a pout. “You could probably use a shower, too, if I’m being honest.”
Which I’m not.
But he ignores my complaint and continues staring at me intently. “I’m sorry, Claire. I should have been more honest with you about the whole celibacy thing. You deserved to know exactly what you were getting into and how much that night would mean to me, and I was wrong to mislead you.”
“You’ll never understand what you took from me …”
The memory of his pained expression crosses my mind, and I shake my head, mostly to call off my emotional response to all of this.
“Apology accepted. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me something so important to you from the beginning,” I rasp.
“But it wasn’t your fault. I’ve just been too afraid to tell you the truth. I’ve never really been embarrassed to own that part of myself before, but the news hasn’t always gone over so well in the past. And I couldn’t risk giving my conscience any reinforcement that first night, because I wanted you …sobadly.” He pauses, and I can tell he’s being sincere by the way his throat works. “I was too scared you’d see me as broken and feel pressured to fix me, and I needed to know you really wanted me, too, that you felt the same connection, and that you weren’t just going through with it out of pity.”
I huff out a laugh at the irony of his confession. “And I was worried you were only stalling because you felt sorry for me,” I say, lifting my shoulder. “That you were trying to talk yourself into doing a good deed and throwing the sad, divorced lady a bone.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Me, feel sorry for you, especially after you came out in those sexy pajamas?”
I snort in an attempt to hide the way his compliment makes me simper. “Weren’t you betting on me being too desperate to notice or care that you didn’t know what you were doing?”
He chuckles. “Ihavebeen studying the female anatomy in depth for the past decade or so. I mean, I mostly look at ultrasounds these days, but I’m still a gynecologist. I know where everything is.”
“I suppose that’s half the battle,” I concede.
“My experience may be limited, but I’m probably not as sheltered as you’d think. Even my parents were pretty open and honest about that stuff when we were growing up. My family’s not exactly ... shy,” he says, smiling.
“Oh. Have you talked to any of them about us and our situation?” I venture. “Besides Daisy, I mean.”
He opens and closes his mouth awkwardly. “Well, I hadn’t exactly planned on it. Not unless we’d have, you know …” I shake my head as he gestures with his hand. “I guess if we were actually dating, and they found out I’ve been staying over at your place, they might make some assumptions I’d want to correct. Especially since you’ve been married before.”
I frown, thinking about how much I enjoyed meeting his mom and sisters at Daisy’s wedding. But I imagine they’d be disappointed if their sweet angel brought home a tattooed jezebel like me.
“You claim you don’t care what anyone thinks, but it sounds like their opinion of you is pretty important,” I say after some hesitation.
“They’re my family.” He shrugs, as if he can’t imagine the alternative.
“I guess that’s another reason you usually date women with the same beliefs as you,” I remark.
He smiles ruefully. “It makes it easier when we already share the same values and all, yeah.”
