“Yeah?” he breathes against the side of my head.
I lift my head and nod, meeting Rowan’s eyes. They’re radiating with the force of his smile.
Wild.
Beautiful.
Mine…for now.
The List
No kissing
No cuddling
No spending the night
No telling anyone
No hickeys
No PDA
No falling in love
No matching tattoos
No marriage talk
CHAPTER 17
Maggie
March - Palm Beach
It’s beenover a week since we came back from the Bahamas and all I’ve done is clean the house and pace, wondering if I’d be making a huge mistake in breaking off the agreement. I don’t want to lose him.
And yet, I’m a coward, because I haven’t found the courage to do it yet. This week, I’ve told Rowan that I got my period, and he knows to stay away from my angry moods every month. He and I have gone weeks, even months without seeing each other, especially once we graduated and we ended up on different sides of the country. But one week apart, and I already feel like I’m off kilter.
It’s plain and simple: I’ve been avoiding him. Even his texts and calls. I lied and said I was moody and wanted to sleep in the past couple of days, but I think being alone in this house is driving me crazy.
I’ve called Isla and Blair a billion times this week and caughtthem up on my sister’s wedding and pregnancy announcement. They both tried to coax information out of me about Rowan, but as always, I deflected. Maybe once the agreement is over, I can tell them all about it.
I want to tell them how the other day, he Doordashed me a pint of ice cream and I cried actual big, fat tears. How I love him so much.
Just when I think I’m slowly going crazy from lack of contact with Rowan, I get a text from him.
Come outside. Bring your gear.
I peek around the sheer curtain of my window and crack my knuckles, expelling my nervous energy as I notice his white Porsche in the driveaway. I sling my duffle bag over my shoulder and walk the short path to his car. I don’t know what I expect—for him to call me out for avoiding him, for him to pop the trunk open like usual, but instead, he gets out of the car and steps in my path, his hand outstretched.
I take a second to really look at him. He’s wearing his signature pink shoes, but instead of his more athletic look—gym shorts and stretchy T-shirt—he’s wearing a pair of white, almost compression-looking shorts that make the muscles of his thighs stand out and a green baggy tank top that shows off his arms and the sides of his torso.
After ogling him for longer than I should, considering I’m supposed to let the man move on from me, I silently hand him my duffle bag. He smiles wide and takes it from me, moving to place it in the trunk. This gives me a delicious view of his ass in those shorts. Did the sun get hotter all of a sudden?
I fan myself and round the car to the passenger door, but Rowan beats me to it, opening it up for me. He’s wearing a black pair of RayBan sunglasses and I can’t get a good read on whyhe’s being so cordial. I stare dumbfounded at his face and realize he’s gotten a haircut.
Fuck me, he looks good. Great, even. The dark blond hair looks a little lighter and longer on top than on the sides and all I want is to run my fingers through it, see if it’s just as soft as before. As last week.Jesus, it’s only been a week?
