Inviting—no, practically begging—Rowan to stay the night is a terrible idea, but I hate how big and quiet the apartment is on lonely nights. I need the company, especially tonight.
Especially if I’m calling Sully.
The elevator doors open into my penthouse, and Rowan opens his eyes while mine quickly dart away so he doesn’tcatch me staring. We both shrug out of our suit jackets and hang them in the coat closet by the entrance. Rowan then follows me into the kitchen, his presence a giant shadow that fills the empty space with a bit of warmth.
“Do you want anything to drink? I have practically every kind of sparkling water imaginable, apple juice, and diet soda. Ray keeps my fridge stocked with enough liquids to last a lifetime,” I joke.
“Just water is fine.”
“Ice?”
“Please.”
“Man with good taste,” I tease and grab two glasses for us. Even if there’s a blizzard out, my cup needs to be filled to the brim with ice, or else it’s just not right.
I give Rowan his glass of ice water and help myself to iced apple juice. The ice-cold sweetness pads my empty stomach and refreshes my mind. I chug the entire thing, then munch on one of the ice cubes.
Rowan stares at me like I’m committing murder.
“What?” I ask, and fish for another ice cube to munch on.
“If you’re hungry, order some food. You’re going to ruin your teeth,” he chides.
I shrug, already used to the ice lectures from Ray, and pull open the drawer of takeout menus. “Tonight seems like a pasta kinda of night. You good with Italian?”
He nods, and I hand him the menu to my favorite place. I indulge there as often as I can and practically have their entire menu memorized.
“Wehaveto order thefritto misto app to share, and I guess a Caesar salad, so Ray doesn’t nag at me if he finds out I didn’t have my greens for the day. As for the main…I think I’m feeling the spaghetti e polpette. Nothing beats the comfort of meatballs. Or maybe the carbonara with some grilled chicken. Oh, nope, meatballs. Definitely meatballs. But carbonara does sound good right now…”
“Why not get both?”
I turn to Rowan and give him my best look of aghast. “I can’t possibly finish both!”
“Then you’ll have leftovers for tomorrow,” he says easily.
“Oh, you poor, sweet summer child!” I remark with a hand covering my mouth. “That’s not how cheat days work. I already have to spend hours at the gym tomorrow to work off tonight’s meal; I can’t possibly have two cheat days in a row.”
“Then you can toss it—”
“Don’t you finish that sentence, Rowan Rangecroft!” I put a finger up to stop him. “No mention of food waste is permitted in this household!”
His eyes crinkle with a smile, and I know he’s not taking my zero-waste policy seriously. People don’t know how to value food these days, but I’ll forgive him just ’cause he’s pretty.
“Fine, then you get the meatballs, I’ll get the carbonara, and we’ll share.”
“Like family style?” I ask, looking at him dazedly. It’s not a novel idea, but I’m touched anyway. I rarely have anyone to share food with. Ray is the type to order what he likes and allows me a single bite if I bug him enough.
“Do you evenlikeeither of those dishes?”
“They’re edible,” he replies with a shrug.
I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth. The last thing I want is to force the man to eat something he hates just for me.
Rowan is unbothered and picks up his phone to place the order.
“Pretty and kind,” I murmur quietly.
“Hmm?” Rowan holds the phone slightly away from his ear and faces me.
