Make Me Believe: Jilted: The Bride Page 11

  The doorbell rang and she stopped forwarding. She looked at the time on her phone, then the door, then at her pajamas. “Well, if it’s the paparazzi I’ll definitely be on the what was she thinking list.”

  Setting the bowl of ice cream on the table next to the recliner, she threw off the blanket, went to the door, and looked through the peephole. Michael stood on the other side, looking to the side.

  Rowan rocked back on her heels. Did she want to talk to Michael? Did she want him to see her like this? Did it matter at this point anyway?

  She unlocked the door and pulled it open. He looked good. A hell of a lot better than she did, that was for sure.

  “Hey.” He shoved his hands in the front pocket of his jeans. “Are you busy?”

  “No,” she said. “Just eating my feelings. You?”

  He ran a hand around the back of his neck. “Do you mind if I come in? We should probably talk.”

  She pressed her lips together. “We probably should have done that a week ago.”

  “I know,” he said. “There’s a lot I should have said and I don’t want this to be how things end between us.”

  She swallowed and looked at her toes. End between us. It was officially official. Not that it hadn’t been before, but she thought… She wasn’t sure what she’d thought. Or hoped for. Or wanted.

  That was the biggest problem—she had no clue how to move forward. Maybe she should start by moving back.

  Opening the door farther, she stepped aside with a sweep of her arm. Michael walked into the living room and sat on the edge of the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. Rowan curled back up in the chair and pulled the blanket over her lap.

  His eyes flicked to the table next to her. Knowing what he saw, she said, “Welcome to the land of Wallow, where ice cream and vodka are perfectly acceptable forms of sustenance.”

  “Guess that’s better than wallowing in bourbon and stale bar nuts.”

  “Is that what you did?” she asked.

  “For a couple of days, yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Why was I wallowing?” he asked.

  “Why did you walk away?” That was all she wanted to know.

  “What would you have done if I’d stayed? If I’d fought for us? For you?”

  “I would have married you,” she said.

  “Would you really have?” His gaze bore into her, searching. “I know it was an asshole thing to do, but we’d both been having doubts for a while. When he came in, it clicked in a way that it hadn’t before. In a way I wasn’t willing to let it. I love you, but not the way I should. Not in the way that would make me want to fight for us and know I would win. Letting you go—letting us go—was the right thing to do.

  “You’re still in love with him, Rowan. You’ve always been in love with him. I could accept that when I thought the only thing I had to compete with was his memory. I convinced myself that with enough time, you’d love me more than you loved him but while you were holding a piece of yourself back, so was I. Eventually we would have realized that.”

  She licked her lips and a tear rolled down her cheek. Because more than anything, the truth hurt. “I’m sorry.”

  “I am, too. I’m sorry that I didn’t have the guts to say something before and that we ended up here.”

  “I do love you,” she said.

  “But you’re not in love with me,” he said.

  “I—” She wasn’t. How did she become that person?

  “It’s okay. I’m not in love with you either. I think more than anything I was in love with the perfect idea of being married and settled. It’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Get the promotion, the wife, have the kids, move to the suburbs. I always thought that was the goal.”

  She had, too. She’d thought moving on meant loving someone other than Luke. “And now? What do you want now?”

  “Honestly?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He cocked his head slightly. “I want to find someone who looks at me the way Luke looks at you. Someone who I’d be willing to stop a wedding for.”

  Rowan clenched her teeth and looked up at the ceiling to keep more tears from falling.

  “Have you talked to him since then?”

  “Yes.” She sniffed and wiped under her nose. “He followed me up to Claudia’s parents’ cabin.”

  “How did he follow you? He was still talking to the police when I left the church.”

  “Maria had one of her feelings and gave him directions.”

  Michael scooted back on the couch. “Isn’t that how we met in the first place? One of Maria’s feelings?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is. It was at that horrible art gallery opening she dragged me and Claudia to.”

  He chuckled. “That was some pretty horrific art. Who knows…maybe her feeling then was supposed to move to this feeling now and you’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

  “Kind of a screwed-up place to be.”

  “Yeah.” They sat in silence for several seconds. “How did it end with you two? You’re here. Did you leave him buried in a shallow grave behind the cabin?”

  “Worse,” she said. “I left him at one of those roadside inns on the highway.”

  He crossed a leg over the other knee. “So that’s it?”

  It should be, but Luke’s offer was on repeat in her head like an annoying children’s song that, once heard, could never be unheard.

  “It’s—He—I don’t know. He asked me to go to Nashville.”

  “You have the time off.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “Are you going to go?”

  “I’m not sure what good it would do,” she admitted.

  “Maybe you’ll figure out a way to be together. Maybe you’ll find out you can’t stand him. But at least then you’d know.”

  But did she want to know?

  “Can I ask something?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Why did you two really break up? All you ever said was that you wanted different things.”

  She swallowed hard. Years of distance didn’t make the story hurt any less. Taking a deep breath, she said, “When he first signed his recording contract, it was right at the tail end of the bad-boy country singer craze. You know—a little rough around the edges, but with the hint that the right woman could put them on the straight and narrow.”

  Michael shrugged. He’d never listened to country music so he probably had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Anyway, his manager and publicist thought they’d be able to launch him better if he appeared to be single.”

  “He broke up with you because his record label told him to?”

  She shook her head. “Not exactly. We agreed that he would pretend to be single and I would support him from the sidelines. Except neither of us really liked the idea and we had a hard time with it. Because of school I couldn’t go to all his shows, but he always made sure I had tickets to the ones I could make. One night, he was opening for some band that was supposed to be the next big thing. I had to work that night and wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to make it, but I hadn’t seen him in weeks and missed him so I left work early and got there after he started.” She scraped at her cuticles, delaying the hard part.

  “I had an all-access pass so I went backstage like I always did. He was just coming off set and this girl grabbed him and hugged him, which I didn’t think anything of—he’d never given me a reason to be jealous or doubt him. Until he kissed her. Not a quick peck on the cheek like you’d give a friend or family member—full-on tonsil hockey. It was then I realized he’d taken pretending to be single to a whole other level. I was so hurt…I still remember that feeling like someone had sucker punched me in the chest. I left. He called the next day and acted like nothing had happened.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “He even said he missed me at the show. I told him I didn’t want to pretend—we were either together or we weren’t. He decided we
weren’t.”

  “And that’s when you moved to Colorado?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded. “I had been looking at UC Denver for dental school anyway so I just transferred for my senior year of undergrad.”

  “Do you think it could have been a misunderstanding?” he asked. “You were both still pretty young.”

  “I don’t see how him making out with some girl backstage could be a misunderstanding,” she said.

  Michael was silent for a moment. “But now he wants another chance.”

  “I don’t know if I can give him a second chance. I don’t know that I could take being hurt like that again.”

  “What about you? Don’t you deserve a second chance?” He leaned forward. “Rowan, I think you should go to Nashville. And I’m not just telling you that to make myself feel better.

  “You should give yourself a second chance. Either it will work out or it won’t, but if you don’t go, you’ll never know and one day, maybe years from now, you’ll wake up wondering what if and it will be too late.”

  What if?

  What if she went to Nashville? What if she gave Luke another chance? What if…?

  She stared at her phone. All she had to do was hit the green button.

  Chapter 21

  Luke switched the bouquet of flowers to his left hand and wiped his right palm on his jeans. Why were flowers so awkward to hold? Scanning the faces of passengers coming down the wide hall, he chanced a glance at his watch.

  Nine forty-three. Rowan’s plane had touched down sixteen minutes ago—two minutes ahead of schedule. The arrivals board confirmed it. He’d never timed how long it took for him to walk from the gate area to baggage claim, but it felt like it was taking forever.

  Had she gotten cold feet and decided not to come? Shit. He should have sent a driver to pick her up in Denver and take her to the airport, but she’d insisted on paying for her own plane ticket and taking a taxi.

  There. He leaned to the side, trying to see around the people swarming into the arrivals area. Her dark blond hair was pulled up into a bun on top of her head. Nothing about her casual jeans and shirt should have made her stand out from the other travelers, but she still had that aura that drew his attention to her. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one—several men checked her out as they passed.

  The cellophane around the flowers crinkled when his fist clenched around them. He fought the urge to punch one particular guy in the face when he was a little too appreciative of Rowan’s curves, especially when a pretty woman ran to hug him as he cleared the secure area. Asshole.

  Weaving through the last of the group of people, he stopped short of picking Rowan up in a hug. “Hey. You made it.”

  She smiled softly. “I did.”

  “Here, I’ll trade you.” He thrust the flowers forward and took the handle of her small roller bag. “Do you have checked bags?”

  “Just one.” She smelled the bouquet. “Thank you for the flowers—you didn’t have to.”

  Switching the bag to his other hand, he placed his palm in the small of her back to guide her toward baggage claim.

  “I wanted to have something for you.” He didn’t admit he hadn’t thought of it until he’d seen a guy holding some and had then rushed through the kiosks looking for a florist. “Although…I don’t know if I have a vase at the house.”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  They reached the carousel and joined the other passengers waiting for their bags. He didn’t know what to talk about or what to do with his hands. His natural inclination was to pull her against him. To press his lips to her temple. Six years ago, if they were close to each other, they were touching. Now there were only inches between them, but it felt like miles.

  He cleared his throat. “How was your flight?”

  She looked up at him. “It was good.”

  “Are you hungry? It’s late so not too many restaurants will still be open, but we can stop for fast-food or I might have food at the house. Maybe. I should have food.”

  That got him a smile. “You’re not sure if you have food?”

  “Well, my housekeeper does the shopping for me, but I only got home this morning,” he said.

  “Where were you?” she asked.

  “I was at Mama’s. I always go home after a tour to decompress.”

  Her head nodded. “How is she? Is she still in Flat Holler?”

  “She’s good. I moved her to Johnson City a few years ago.”

  “How’s Shelby?” she asked.

  Luke smiled. “She’s good. She’s in Johnson City, too, teaching second grade. She’s coming out to visit soon.”

  She nodded again but didn’t say anything else. He was ready to talk about the weather just to keep her engaged when she stepped forward to get her suitcase.

  “I got it.” He reached around her and grabbed the handle, pulling it off the belt. “Is this it? It’s kind of light.”

  “It’s only a few days’ worth of clothes. I wouldn’t have checked a bag except I couldn’t fit all my toiletries into the little bag.”

  “Only a few days?” He’d hoped she’d stay at least a week. She shrugged and he realized he didn’t even know when she planned on leaving. He didn’t want to start her visit off on an even worse foot, so he didn’t ask. Guiding her through the clusters of people, he led her to the parking garage and his truck.

  They were both quiet, even though they snuck glances at each other out of the corners of their eyes. He stowed her suitcase in the bed of the truck while she got in. They remained silent while exiting the garage and halfway to his house. It was uncomfortable—they’d always been able to just be with each other without feeling like they had to fill some kind of void—but he wanted to hear her voice.

  “Are you tired?” he finally asked.

  “No. I napped a little on the flight. I haven’t had a whole lot to do other than nap for the past week. I feel like I caught up on a year’s worth of sleep.”

  He didn’t want to touch that subject since he was the reason she had so much time off.

  “It’s weird,” she said a few minutes later.

  “What’s weird?” They were weird? He was weird? This whole messed up situation was weird?

  “Seeing so many familiar things, but at the same time a lot has changed.”

  He chanced a look at her. “Have you been back since you moved to Colorado?”

  She shook her head. “No. I—I’ve only been back to Flat Holler.”

  What had she been about to say before she changed her mind? “You didn’t keep in touch with anyone?”

  She looked at him long and hard. “I didn’t have anyone else to keep in touch with.”

  Breaking eye contact, he let the implication of that set it. He’d been her world and when they’d broken up, she’d had nothing to keep her there.

  He took the exit that would take them to his house.

  “You live in Belle Meade?”

  Heat crept up the back of his neck. He’d thought about this moment in a vague I-wonder-what-Rowan-would-think kind of way, never in a real what-is-Rowan-going-to-say-when-she-sees-the-house kind of way.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Do they still do the parade of homes?”

  “I think so. I honestly haven’t thought about that in years.”

  “Do you remember that one house that looked like it had a tower?”

  “Vaguely,” he said.

  “I wonder if I can remember where it is,” she said. “See if it’s still as charming as I remember.”

  He snuck another peek out of the corner of his eye. “I think I can probably find it.”

  Rowan hunched over to peer out the window at the large houses they passed. Most of the houses in Belle Meade were too ostentatious for him. He’d only bought his house because it meant something.

  He turned onto the wide, tree-lined street and checked the speedometer. The Belle Meade police were brutal when it came to speeding. Pulling into the drive, he held
his breath.

  “Oh my god! This is it!” She looked at him with a wide smile. “It’s still beautiful. Classic without being overbearing like some of the other houses we passed.”

  She leaned back in the seat. “It beats a one-bedroom apartment, that’s for sure.”

  “You must make decent money as a dentist,” he said.

  “I do, but I double up on my student loan payments so I can pay them off faster. I’d rather be debt free than living in a place that’s honestly too big for me.”

  “Makes sense.” She’d always been the more practical of the two of them. He hadn’t needed to buy a house—the two-bedroom house he’d rented after moving down from Clarksville had been more than enough for him.

  “We should probably go before the owner calls the cops on a couple of weirdos sitting in front of his house,” she said.

  “I don’t think he’ll mind.” He pressed the button on the overhead console.

  Rowan gaped at him as he waited for the garage door to open. “Are you house sitting?”

  He smiled. “No.”

  “You own this house? You bought it?”

  “I own it.” He eased into the center of the three stalls.

  “When? Why?” She sounded as if she didn’t fully believe him—like she was waiting for the punch line.

  “When—about two and a half years ago. It came on the market and I bought it. Other than mama’s house, it’s the only really big purchase I’ve made. Why…?” He closed the garage door and took a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a pound. The only way to make her believe he was serious about them was to be one-hundred-percent honest with her.

  “I bought it for you. It’s your house.”

  Chapter 22

  Rowan stared at Luke, her jaw slack. Did he just say… “You bought me a house?”

  “Well…I bought me a house, but it’s your house and that’s why I bought this particular house.”

  He wasn’t making a whole lot of sense and yet she still understood him. “Luke, we weren’t together two and a half years ago.”

  “I know, but it came on the market and I didn’t want anyone else to have it.” The back of his neck darkened—a sure sign he was embarrassed.