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Wolfe
I cameto the Summer Palace to get away from the people I can’t protect. I came here to stop playing the hero when all I ever do is fail. I wanted to run away from the images of those moments, when my true weakness was on full display for the kingdom to witness.
But Rowan dropped into my lap, and all I want to do is shelter her from the storm that rages outside. As I watch her fidget in her seat, my heart thumps. I love the faint blush that stains her cheeks, and the way her eyes flash when she looks at me.
She knows pain. I can see it in the tension in her jaw and the way her eyes tighten when she mentions her mother.
“What happened?” I ask, needing her to tell me. Needing some sort of connection that goes deeper than fealty.
She leans back in the armchair, letting out a long breath. “My mother brought me to Farcliff when I was a baby, and you can probably imagine how difficult it was for a single mother with an infant child to get by.” She glances at me, tilting her head. “Well, maybe you can’t.”
“I’m not so out of touch I don’t know how hard life can be, Rowan.”
“Have you ever gone to sleep instead of eating because you had no food?”
I stare at her, not answering.
Rowan sighs, glancing at the fire again. “I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just…” She waves a hand at the cottage. “Even somewhere as nice as this, we didn’t have it. Mom worked three jobs. Did everything she could to make sure I had a good life. She took no time for herself and I’m pretty sure she never even went on a date after my father.”
“Who was he?” I ask. “Your dad.”
“Fuck knows,” Rowan spits. “The only thing I know for sure is he didn’t want me.” She smiles bitterly, shaking her head. “From what I can gather, my mom was the other woman. He had a whole other family that was more important to him than we were. Mom didn’t know about it until she went down to Farcliff and found him, living with his perfect wife and perfect kids. I was a couple months old.”
We’re silent for a while. The bitterness in Rowan’s voice hits me right in the middle of the chest. Yes, I enjoy making her angry. I enjoy seeing her cheeks turn pink when I frustrate her. But this is different. She understands what it means to suffer for a long time. Years. Decades.
Finally, I speak. “How’d she die?”
Rowan swings her eyes to me. “My mom?”
I nod.
“Cancer.” Rowan pinches her lips together. “She was a smoker. Had a lump in her neck. I finally convinced her to go get it checked out after three fucking years. When they opened her up to remove it, she was just…riddled with it. The cancer had spread everywhere. She died within six weeks of the operation.”
I exhale slowly. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” Rowan lets out a bitter snort. “I still feel like it’s my fault, you know? She worked to pay for me, for my architecture degree, for everything we had. She ignored her own health to take care of me when no one else would.”
“Scotch and isolation,” I reply.
She swings her eyes to me. “What?”
“That’s how I dealt with grief.” I lift my glass. “Still do. You?”
“Work,” she replies, pinching her lips into a smile. “I was twenty-three when she died. The day after the funeral, I went to work. Threw myself into it as if nothing else existed. Started my own business four years later. I blinked, and five more years had passed. I was sitting in my own office with my name on the door and a wall full of awards behind me, reading the email that awarded me the contract to redesign the Summer Palace. That was a year ago, and it happened to be the anniversary of her death.”
There’s a heaviness in my chest. Rowan stares into the fire, tension rippling through her body. And I get it. I feel her pain the same way I feel my own. I understand the feeling of being in a tailspin, of latching onto anything that will make you feel any kind of normal.
Rowan glances at me, letting out a dry snort. “I’ve never spoken of this to anyone.”
“Not even your boyfriend?”
“Ex-boyfriend,” she corrects. “And no. Our relationship…I don’t think I ever really let him in.”
“You broke up with him when you took on this project,” I say, remembering the file of information on her.
“He gave me an ultimatum, and I chose,” she replies, shrugging.
“Why wouldn’t he want you to come here?”
