I knew I was taking a risk coming here. The last time I saw Rowan she was walking out of Dr. Harris’s office with a shattered heart because I overreacted about her hiding the death certificate.
“No.” I shake my head. “I was talking about the journal. I was curious if you’ve read it.”
Hugging the journal to her chest, she looks past me, avoiding eye contact. “Why are you here, Nash?”
“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”
A forced laugh escapes her. “No. I wouldn’t believe it. You can’t miss what you never had.”
With the journal in hand, she turns to walk out of the room, but I stop her, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around. “Why would that be so hard to believe?”
Sad eyes stare back at me. “Why didn’t you call? You just decided that showing up here was a good plan?”
“It seemed like a good plan at the time. Now, I’m not so sure.” My fingers rake through my hair as my gaze shifts to the floor. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.” I push past her and walk straight out the door.
She doesn’t come after me. Instead, her voice carries out of the room, “I read it all.”
Stopping in my tracks, I turn back around and look at her as she stands right where I left her. “And?”
“You might want to sit down for this.”
Chapter Nineteen
Rowan
Instead of explaining everything, I let Nash read the last page in the journal. Chewing on my nails, I watch him as he sits on the edge of my bed next to me. Journal open and sweat beading around his hairline.
I didn’t plan to show him, but seeing him standing there with so many unanswered questions made me want to give him the clarity that he deserves. I’m still hurt that he let me leave the way he did. But I’m also grateful that he gave me a place to stay while I was in Sunnyville.
He glances up from the journal for a moment with a look of sheer puzzlement. Opening his mouth to speak, nothing comes out, then he turns back to the journal. “I didn’t know this,” he says with his eyes still on the paper.
“Didn’t know what?”
Looking up at me again, he continues, “Gemma never told me she was driving the car.” An awkward silence fills the room. I had no idea she withheld that information. I knew it was hard for her to talk about, but I’d assumed Nash knew. He was her husband. “Why wouldn’t she tell me this?”
“For what it’s worth, she never talked about it to anyone.” I cross my legs and resume chewing on my nails.
“Did you know before this? That she was driving the car?”
I nod. “Mmhmm.” A piece of my fingernail comes off and I pick it from my tongue. Nash looks back down at the journal and continues to read.
Then his head shoots up like a rocket heading for space. “What the hell?” His eyes bore into mine. I’m not sure what to make of his expression. There is confusion, of course, but more than that, I can’t tell if he’s disappointed or relieved.
“What? Say something, Nash.” My words beg for some type of response so I know what he’s thinking.
He slams the journal shut and stands up, pacing in front of the bed in small strides as he stuffs his hands in the pocket of his jeans.
“Nash?” I question again, “Would you please say something?”
Pointing to the journal, he shouts, “Who does she think she is?” This isn’t the reaction I was expecting. I didn’t think he’d fall into my arms and fall in love with me, by any means. But I didn’t expect him to be so angry. Is it really so bad that she’d want him to marry me one day?
Is it really that far-fetched? Granted, I do realize that marriage, love, and everything in between cannot be forced. I took what Gemma wanted to heart, and it did ease my guilt, but I would never force a man to be with me just because it’s what she wanted. It’s obvious that Nash doesn’t want anything Gemma is requesting. Not only because of his reaction now, but also his reaction when I left—or lack thereof.
I don’t say anything. Instead, I wait for him to get out what he needs to say.
“She pursues me. Makes me fall in love with her. Marries me”—he huffs out a sarcastic laugh—“then takes her life. But not before planning this whole charade to try and get you and me to what? Fall in love?”
I roll my eyes and use the same tone as him in agreement, because it’s better than asking him why it is so ridiculous. “I know, right?”
“Everything that happened, it was because she set it up.” He begins counting on his fingers. “You coming to Sunnyville. You sticking around to wait for a death certificate that had already been filed and mailed to Dr. Harris,” he snarls. “That’s a real crock of shit there.” He holds his fingers up again. “Then you come all the way here while I’m in Sunnyville missing the hell outta you. That was her plan?”
He missed me?
“How could she have known it would even work out? She seems to think our dreams align”—he air quotes—“and that’s what she went off from? We met once before and she thinks we are destined to be together?” He keeps rambling, but I don’t even hear the words.
He missed me?
Standing up, I take his left hand into mine, stopping his body from moving at the speed of a cheetah. “You missed me?” I look up into his brown eyes.
“Of course I missed you. I’m here, aren’t I?”
I take his other hand. “Why did you let me leave that day? Why didn’t you try and stop me? You never even called.”
His grip on my hands tightens as he takes a step closer, eating up the space between us. “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you call?”
Touché.
“I was hurt. You accused me of hiding the letter to bide my time with you and force you to fall in love with me.” It hurts even saying the words, especially to him.
Blowing out a huff of air, he downplays it. “Those weren’t my words. I never said you were trying to force me to fall in love with you.”
“You insinuated it. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?”
“I’d be lying if I said that I do. All I can say is that I’m sorry and hope that’s enough. I was hurting, too. This whole thing has been a clusterfuck of emotions. I think we are both entitled to being a little upset and confused.” His teeth graze over his bottom lip, tugging the corner in his mouth.
If I ever questioned whether or not he could still turn me on, my question is answered by the buckling of my knees and the hammering of my heart in my chest. He’s still sexy as hell, maybe even more so. “So are you still confused?”
His eyes flirt with mine before sliding down to my mouth as his lip rolls out from between his teeth. He shakes his head. “No, not even a little bit.”
Biting back a smile, giddiness overcomes me. “Are you still upset?”
He shakes his head again. “How can I be? It’s the most wonderful time of the year and I’m here with you.” His arms wrap around my back, one hand pressed against the small of my back as he pulls me closer. “What about you?” He peers down at me. “Are you confused?”