I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask, not sure I could handle peeling more layers of Rowen back just yet, knowing there was more he’d yet to show me, knowing he was holding himself back for my sake, to protect me, to keep me from leaving.
Was that what he feared?
Because it felt as though he was holding me like he was already losing me.
***
“Rowen,please,” I begged as he grabbed his laptop and shoved it into the bag. “I haven’t left since we got here.Ten days ago.”
He’d been working from home the entire time. When I mentioned groceries, a horde of bags arrived. Any time I mentioned going out for lunch or dinner, take-out would show up at the door. He even had a fancy espresso machine delivered when I groaned about wanting a fancy coffee.
I felt isolated.
Since he lived on the top floor, we didn’t see neighbors. All the delivery people were gone by the time Rowen made it to the door, insisting he be the one to answer it. Even the cleaning lady who’d come twice since I’d been here must’ve been invisible, because I’d yet to see her.
My only solace that other people still existed—other than scrolling through social media and seeing everyone living it up for summer—was sitting on the balcony, watching the cars andpeople pass by every day. Out there, the constant hum of traffic kept me company.
His eyes met mine, and I knew I was fighting a losing battle.
“I don’t want you wandering the city without me. You have no idea who’s out there, walking the streets, looking for women to turn into the next Dateline episode,” he said softly, but there was restraint in his tone. “And you can’t come to work with me.” He pulled me into his embrace. I didn’t even bother uncrossing my arms.
“I feel like a prisoner up here,” I admitted. “I don’t talk to anyone except you. I still don’t even have clothes. I’ve been wearing yours.”
Rowen offered to take me back to the house for my things, but I was too terrified I’d run into either of our parents. I wasn’t sure I was ready to face them. Plus, the twenty-three text messages sitting on read that I’d sent to my mother were a clear indication of how she was feeling about everything.
He grabbed my hands. “You look cute wearing my….” He trailed off, noticing my lack of amusement. “Got it.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Go online. Buy whatever you want. Whatever makes you happy.”
He handed me a credit card.
“Freedom?” I muttered bitterly. I wiggled out of his grasp and shook one of his arms, as though I could shake some sense into him. “Come on. Don’t you want to show me off?” I bit my lip and tilted my chin down to look up through my lashes. “I want to be seen with you. I want to be somewhere loud and crowded and then come back here and complain about it while you remind me why I like staying in.”
For the first time, he actually hesitated, and hope filled my chest.
His eyes softened as he sighed, interrupting the silence, though they didn’t lose the possessive shadow that was apermanent fixture in them. “I’ll be home at six thirty.” He pulled me close, his hands behind my head and around my waist. “We’ll leave at seven.”
I was elated to the point of dizziness, and suddenly, I wanted to jump his bones, even though we'd already had sex twice before he had to get ready for his day full of meetings.
“I do want to show you off, Av. We can go to my favorite club. I’ll bring home a dress for you to wear.”
“Thank you.” I wrapped my arms around him, relieved I’d finally convinced him to let me out. “I’m so excited. Can you send me the name of the place so I can look at their menu before we go?”
“Of course.” He brushed my cheek with the back of his finger before cradling the side of my head. “I love you, Avery. Text me if you need anything.”
“Yes,” I promised him, leaving those three little words out yet again.
He kissed me, unbothered by my lack of reciprocity. It was hard, claiming. It was the type of kiss that made my lips tingle when he pulled away.
After he left, I stood in the silence for a moment, trying to shake the feeling of being locked in a cell when the door clicked shut. Then, I walked through his—no,ourapartment.
The thought of things being ‘ours’ made me smile, and warmth curled in my belly.
I wasn’t his prisoner, but I understood where he was coming from. Rowen’s love for me started years ago. It had time to burrow deep, consume him. It was intense, but it was unconditional.
Some might call it obsessive, but he just loved me. Hard.
At least that’s what I told myself as I curled up on the couch and turned the TV on. I grabbed the blanket that smelled like us, like him, and lied against a pillow, my mind spinning.
So what if I didn’t leave the house? Why would I, when Rowen had everything I needed? Food, a warm bed, birth control. He made sure I was safe and taken care of. He didn’t threaten or hurt me, at least not in a way I didn’t like.
