There will always be hard times. Times where we get angry with one another, especially with how close we train. What if he wants to find another partner? What if he finds someone better in every regard?
We trained relentlessly for the past year, but even so, it has been the hardest. It’s almost like we were cursed—having to deal with so many minor injuries, playing through the pain. Rowan had to go back to Charleston for a few months and help his momwith house repairs after a nasty storm. We were apart more often than we were together, and that says a lot as we live in the same neighborhood. He’s at my house most of the time, driving me crazy and leaving his clothes around, his toothbrush, his sneakers.
Rowan slips his hand in mine as we get off the train and he leads me to the hole-in-the-wall bagel place he looked up. There’s nothing impressive about the place. Their menu has very little on it: bagels, bagel sandwiches, and cream cheese.
I take a step closer to the display and see an assortment of bagels and various flavors of spreads and my mouth waters. There’s one thing I can get behind in a big city, and that’s food.
Rowan orders himself a breakfast sandwich and a coffee and I go for a toasted sesame bagel with green olive cream cheese.
We wait in comfortable silence for our food and once we get it, we realize there are no seats inside this place. Guess we’re taking it to go.
“There’s a park nearby, we can sit there,” Rowan says, extending a hand to me. We’re in a secluded enough place that I reason with myself and give in. The moment my hand touches his, Rowan grins at me like a kid on Christmas.
“You’re awfully chipper this morning,” I hedge.
“I’m always chipper,” he says, leading me to one of the park benches. In the distance, we can see part of the unisphere and the New York State Pavillion.
Rowan hands me my bagel and I unwrap it only to find an ungodly amount of cream cheese on it. My mouth waters and I take a bite, moaning at the delicious flavors.
“Not going to lie, I’m kind of jealous of that bagel right now.”
“Shut up,” I say around another mouthful of deliciousness.
He chuckles and digs into his sandwich as we sit quietly, taking it all in. The only sounds are the birds chirping and theshoes hitting the pavement as people jog up and down the path. I lean back on the bench and look up at the sky, feeling the sunshine on my face. Today is a good day. Maybe the rest of the year is shaping up to be the same.
Rowan clears his throat, breaking me out of my daze and I turn my head, lazily blinking at him. His throat bobs on a swallow and his eyes are glued to my lips. The longing look he gives takes me by surprise. There’s something raw and vulnerable in his expression and I’m not sure what to do about it.
With the way he’s looking at me, I expect him to kiss me right here on this bench, but he surprises me again when he says, “Do you think you’ll ever want to get married?”
I gape at him and probably look like a fish out of water, not knowing what to say. This is so left field, my brain is glitching. Do I want to get married? I’ve been so focused onnotbeing in a relationship that I never considered that one day I might want one.
“I—don’t know,” I hedge, frowning at him. “Do you?”
Rowan’s hazel eyes are soft. The green and gold in them blends in so well with our surroundings that for a moment, I’m mesmerized. I want to hold him tight and never let him go, but I’m terrified that I wouldn’t be what he needs. He’ll get sick of this, he’ll find someone better, he’ll?—
“Yes,” he says, resolutely.
My spine straightens and I look away. Of course he does. He’s going to find someone some day and marry her and have beautiful blondish babies and forget all about me.
“What’s that look for?” he asks, leaning in closer and tipping my chin up to meet his eyes. I blink back the horrific thought that I’ll one day lose him and school my features into a smile. But in true Rowan fashion, he spots the fake from a mile away. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” I breathe out. He’s still grasping my chinbetween two calloused fingers and his grip tightens the longer he looks at me.
“Don’t hide from me. Tell me what’s on your mind, Mags.”
My eyes sting and my nose twitches as I try to hold back the tears. Rowan’s hand lets go of my chin and cups the back of my neck as he brings our foreheads together.
“Tell me, please.”
I sigh and shake my head, brushing our noses together in the process. Rowan’s shoulders sag in defeat and I feel his disappointment all the way to my toes. Clearing my throat, I say with a nervous chuckle, “Maybe this topic needs to go on the list. No marriage talk.”
Rowan gives me a small smile. One I can tell is forced and sad, nothing but pull of his lips to the left side. “I think that ship has sailed, but—” He sighs, shrugging. “Anything for you, Mags.”
My heart drops somewhere in the vicinity of my stomach because I’ve only ever heard him say that phrase to me in some of our happiest times. Saying it now feels like a blow. It feels like he’s giving up.
We walk to the subway station in silence and I can feel the rift between us. Rowan doesn’t hold my hand or hold me close when people crowd in around us. I stare at the side of his face, our fingers so close they’re barely touching as we hold on to the handrail. I silently beg him to look at me, fight with me, ask me again.
When he doesn’t, I swallow my pride and take a step closer, wrapping my hands around him in a tight hug, burying my head in his neck. “I think my own parents’ marriage has messed me up so much that I don’t think I believe in the concept anymore. But, with the right person, I don’t think I’d be opposed to it,” I breathe out.
