Page 95 of None Of Your Business

So… I wait.

I sit on the edge of her bed with my elbows braced on my knees, staring at the floorboards and becoming increasingly aware of the fact that I don’t want to leave.

If I get up now, I go back to a townhouse that suddenly feels far too large, full of quiet rooms that have sat empty for long enough that I’ve only just realized how hollow they are.

Rowan doesn’t just occupy a space. She completely overtakes it. She fills every corner with a presence so vivid it makes everything else feel pale by comparison.

We’ve barely said ten words to each other all day while she wrestled with those canvases, yet the thought of stepping out that door and removing myself from her orbit feels entirely wrong.

She emerges a few minutes later wearing the oversized T-shirt, her face clean and her hair damp at the edges where she’s splashed it with water.

She crosses the room slowly and climbs beneath the covers.

“I should let you sleep.”

Her hand shoots out and catches mine before I can take a step.

“It’s late,” she says. “Stay.”

I look down at our joined hands.

Say no, Hudson. Get in your car. Drive home. She’s safe. She’s finished painting. None of this requires you to spend the night in her bed.

The refusal doesn’t come.

I kick off my shoes, unbutton my collar, and lie on top of the covers beside her, fully dressed.

She curls onto her side, facing me, as I lie in the dark and listen to her breathing even out.

Somewhere in the middle of trying to figure out when I lost the ability to say no to her, I fall asleep too.

Twenty-Eight

Rowan

I arrive at Dr. Mercer’s office on Friday morning, moving like a woman twice my age. She takes one look at me as I shuffle into the exam room and doesn’t even bother with small talk.

“You’ve overdone it.”

“Yep.”

“Sit.”

She runs through the usual checklist, makes a face at my range of motion, then makes an even worse one at my resting heart rate. To her credit, she doesn’t launch into the lecture I was fully braced for. I think she can tell I don’t have the bandwidth to survive it.

She just tells me to return when the show is over, not before, because apparently even she’s decided this ship has sailed.

I get out of there with fifteen minutes to spare before I’m due at the bridal shop, which is the closest thing to a miracle I’ve experienced all month.

∞∞∞

Madison holds up her hands like she’s bestowing a royal decree upon us.

“I have decided,” she announces, pausing for dramatic effect, “that I am delegating. I’m letting you pick your own bridesmaid dresses. Any style. Any color. I just want you to feel beautiful.”

Piper and I exchange a horrified look across the racks.

“Who are you and what have you done with our sister?” Piper asks.