Snatching my favorite leather jacket from the hook by the door, I quickly shrug it on and grab my keys. The September nights have started to get a little chilly and the last thing I want is to be tempted to use Rowan as my own personal space heater.
When I step out into the hallway, he’s leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking relaxed.
“Everything’s set for our trip this weekend,” he says as we head down the stairs. “Flights booked, car service arranged, guest room ready for you at my house.”
“Great,” I reply, trying to sound casual even as my stomach does a little flip at the reality of what I’ve agreed to. “What time do we leave?”
“Early. Flight’s at seven a.m., so we’ll need to leave for the airport by four.” He holds the door open for me as we step outside into the cool evening air. “I know it’s early, but it’s less crowded that time of day.”
“Why don’t you just take a private jet? It’s not like you can’t afford it.”
“True. But it’s a little over the top for my taste. Unless I have to get somewhere fast, I typically just travel first class.”
The night is clear, stars just beginning to emerge in the darkening sky above the light of dusk. We fall into step, and I’m struck by how familiar walking in comfortable silence is with him.
“So,” I start, desperate to keep my thoughts away from those images of him with all those beautiful women. “How was filming today?”
“Good. Exhausting,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “We filmed a pretty intense scene. It’s the big fight between Jake and Eliza. The one where all the past secrets and trauma come out.”
I swallow hard. “Is the scene... is it based on what happened with us?”
His eyes flick over to mine, then quickly away. “Parts of it. But I took some creative license. Had to use a lot of it actually.”
“Why is that?”
He’s quiet for a beat. I can tell he’s struggling with what he’s going to say next.
My heart thunders in my ears when his next words come. “Because, at the time, I didn’t know how our story would end. Or if there would still be a story for that matter.”
We walk in silence, passing the storefronts along Main Street. Most are closed for the evening, but a few blocks down, The Brew is lit up, laughter and music spilling out onto the sidewalk as we pass.
“You hungry?” Rowan finally asks, nodding toward Sal’s Pizza across the street. “I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
Before I can answer my stomach does it for me, making him chuckle.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
The familiar sound of the bell above us jingles as we push through the door. Sal’s has been a Lakeside institution since before we were born. The scent of garlic, tomato sauce, and freshly baked dough instantly makes my mouth water.
“Lizzy!” Sal calls from behind the counter, his weathered face lighting up. His eyes widen when they land on Rowan. “And Rowan! Look at you two, all grown up and back together.”
Heat creeps up my spine and along the back of my neck when Rowan’s hand settles at the small of my back.
“Hey, Sal,” he says warmly. “Place hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Why mess with perfection?” The older man winks, gesturing toward an empty booth in the corner. “Sit, sit! I’ll bring you something special.”
As we slide into opposite sides of the booth, it hits me that it’s been a little over two weeks since our first sighting at the lakeside restaurant, and the photo that’s now splashed across TMZ. Among others.
“Hey. You okay?” Rowan asks quietly, tuning in to the expression on my face.
“It’s just Sal’s,” I shrug. “Not exactly paparazzi central.”
“True,” he says with a wry smile. “But you should know by know they tend to have a way of showing up out of nowhere.”
As if on cue, I notice a couple at a nearby table sneaking photos with their phones.
“Great,” I mutter. “Just what I need—my pizza face immortalized online.”
