He lets go of my hand. “That’s what I thought.”
“Ethan… I’m sorry.”
“Me too, Ro.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, and a tear slips down my face. “I should go.” The sofa creaks as he stands. “I hope he takes care of you.”
And then Ethan is gone.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m alone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Angus
I strip off my clothes and step into the hot shower, letting the water scald me, letting it wash everything away.
I don’t want to think about what is happening in the Den. What I’m allowing to happen. Rowan doesn’t belong to me. She isn’t mine. What do I care if she takes her cheating slimebag of a boyfriend back? We’ve only known each other for five days. No feelings, I remind myself. No commitment. Last night was a mistake. One that I won’t repeat.
So why do I want to tear this shower apart with my bare hands?
No. I lather shampoo into my hair and force myself to stop thinking about it. I’m home now. There’s work to do. Prep to be getting on with. Starting with myself. The first of the wedding guests will arrive from three, and I need to be ready well before.
Come on, brain.Engage. Hair washed, I flick the switch off and grab a towel. Start making a mental list of everything I need to do. Dry off. Get dressed. Find Stuart. Check on the catering. Check the wine cellar. Make sure everything we’ve ordered has been delivered. Look at the barn.
Who am I kidding? Stuart has probably done it all already. He’s the most organised man I’ve ever met. There is likely nothing left for me to do.
Still, the list helps. I need to feel useful. Productive. Not think too deeply about anything – or anyone.
What are they doing down there? Are they still talking? Or something more?
My fist curls around the towel.Get a grip, Angus.
“Knock, knock,” Stuart says, slipping inside the room, two beers in his hand. “Thought you might need this.”
I check my watch. “It’s barely midday.”
“And yet, so much has happened.”
I take one of the beers. Stuart settles himself primly on the corner of my bed. His grey eyes are stormy and serious behind his achingly cool metal-framed glasses. A few strands of his chestnut hair curl over his forehead, and he’s wearing neatly pressed grey slacks and a tight dark-green polo-neck that shows off his toned frame.
“How are Lila, Priya and Ewan settling in?” I ask. Anything to keep the conversation – and my mind – off Rowan.
“Your waifs and strays? Ross has adopted them, and roped Mason in, too. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“Last I heard, he was giving them a tour of the farm on the tractor.”
I groan. “Last time he tried to drive that tractor, he crashed it into the barn.”
“Well, there had better not be a repeat if he values his life. Final touches are going in now. She’s perfect.”
“Flowers arrived?”
“Yep.”
“Caterers here?”
“On-site as of this morning.”
