Do you Love Her

Rowan’s POV

Remi’s words cut deeper than any wound I’d ever taken.

Stay out of my life.

Her face was blank, but I could see it in her eyes—she meant every damn word.

I had lost a lot of things in my life.

But losing her?

Losing my own children?

That thought was unbearable.

I took a slow breath, keeping my voice steady. “Remi. Just listen—”

“No, Rowan.” Her tone was sharp, final. “I don’t want to listen. I don’t want to hear you justify this. I don’t want to hear you promise things. I just want you to stay away.”

I stared at her, my fingers curling into fists. “You think I’m just going to walk away?”

“That’s exactly what I think.”

I stepped forward. “I don’t care what you think.”

She flinched. Not in fear—but in anger.

“You don’t get to come back and decide you want to be a father, Rowan. That’s not how this works.”

“Then how does it work?” I snapped. “Because you sure as hell didn’t give me a chance before.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t deserve one.”

I clenched my jaw. “That’s not fair.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Life isn’t fair. You of all people should know that.”

Silence stretched between us.

She was shutting down.

She had already decided.

And I was losing her all over again.

I forced myself to breathe.

“Just… give me time.”

She frowned. “For what?”

“To prove I’ve changed. To prove I can be better.” My voice lowered. “To prove I deserve to be in their lives.”

She shook her head. “You can’t just change overnight.”

I met her gaze. “Then give me the chance to show you.”

She laughed humorlessly. “Do you even hear yourself? We’re not in some redemption story, Rowan. You can’t just erase the past and expect everything to be fine.”

I exhaled slowly.

I knew that.

But I also knew—

I couldn’t let this be the end.

“You think I want to erase the past?” I said quietly. “I don’t. I want to remember it. I want to remember everything. Even the ugly parts. Even the parts that make me sick.”

Remi stilled.

Her throat bobbed.

“Why?” she whispered.

I hesitated.

Then I stepped closer.

And for the first time—

I told her the truth.

“Because I want to know how to fix it.”

Something flickered in her eyes.

But just as quickly—

It was gone.

“Rowan—”

“Just give me time, Remi.” My voice was low, rough. “If not for me, then for them.”

She opened her mouth—

But a sudden flash made her freeze.

Click.

My entire body went rigid.

Another click.

Then another.

“Shit.”

Remi’s eyes widened. “Is that—?”

“Paparazzi.” I grabbed her wrist. “Come on.”

She didn’t resist.

We darted to the side, moving toward the shadows of the alley.

The cameras kept flashing.

Footsteps quickened behind us.

I pulled her closer, scanning for an exit.

“Here.” I led her toward a side entrance, pushing the heavy door open.

We stumbled inside.

The door slammed shut behind us.

Darkness.

Silence.

Remi pressed herself against the wall, breathing heavily.

I turned, exhaling sharply.

We were alone.

Hidden.

For now.

I glanced at her. “You okay?”

She nodded stiffly. “You have a talent for dragging me into your chaos.”

A corner of my mouth lifted, despite everything. “That makes two of us.”

She scoffed, rubbing her temples.

I let the silence stretch between us.

Then, softer—

“Please, Remi. Just think about it.”

She didn’t look at me.

She opened her mouth and sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

I felt it—like a punch to the gut.

She turned away, her fingers gripping the strap of her purse as if it was the only thing holding her together.

She was leaving.

Again.

I wanted to stop her.

I wanted to pull her back and tell her I wasn’t the same man. That I could be better.

But I couldn’t move.

I could only watch as she walked to the door, her steps slow but certain.

She reached for the handle.

I took a breath. “Remi.”

She paused.

For a second—just a second—I thought she might turn around.

But she didn’t.

She whispered, “Goodbye, Rowan.”

And then she was gone.

The door clicked shut behind her.

The room was silent.

Too silent.

I ran a hand down my face, my jaw clenching.

I should have said more.

I should have fought harder.

But deep down, I knew—

It wouldn’t have changed anything.

Not yet.

Not when I was still the man who had destroyed her once.

I exhaled, trying to push the ache in my chest away.

And then—

It happened.

A sharp, sudden pain shot through my head.

I winced, pressing my fingers to my temple.

Then—

A flicker.

A voice.

Remi’s voice.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

The air in my lungs froze.

The memory was faint, blurred around the edges, like a dream slipping away.

But I could hear it.

Her voice—shaking, desperate, broken.

And then—

My own voice, cutting through the haze.

“You mean nothing to me.”

A sharp breath escaped me.

I stumbled back, gripping the nearest wall.

No.

No, that wasn’t—

That couldn’t be—

But the memories kept coming.

The way she looked at me. The way her lips trembled as she blinked back tears. The way I turned my back on her and walked away.

I felt sick.

My fingers dug into my hair, my breath coming unevenly.

What had I done?

What the fuck had I done?

I had hurt her.

Not just once. Not just in small ways.

I had crushed her.

And the worst part?

I hadn’t even remembered.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my chest tightening.

This was why she had left.

This was why she had run.

Not because she was cruel.

Not because she wanted to punish me.

But because I had given her no other choice.

A shuddering breath left me.

I needed to fix this.

I didn’t know how.

Didn’t know where to even start.

But for the first time—

I understood.

And I wasn’t going to let her slip away again.

Not this time.

****
I drove home in silence.

No music. No distractions.

Just the sound of my own fucking thoughts, taunting me, over and over again.

By the time I stepped into my penthouse, the weight of everything crashed down.

I barely made it to the bar before I grabbed the nearest bottle of whiskey.

Didn’t bother with a glass.

Just twisted off the cap and drank.

The burn did nothing.

Didn’t dull the ache in my chest.

Didn’t erase the memory of her voice, her pain, the look in her eyes as she told me I didn’t deserve to be a father.

I drank again.

Harder.

Faster.

I let the bottle hit the counter with a loud thud and exhaled, running a shaky hand through my hair.

“Fucking idiot.”

The words ripped from my throat, raw and bitter.

I had spent weeks—months—trying to figure out why she looked at me with so much hate.

Why she kept pushing me away.

And now?

Now I knew.

I had destroyed her.

I hadn’t just hurt her.

I had treated her like she was nothing.

And now?

Now, she wouldn’t even look at me without wanting to walk away.

I punched the counter.

The pain shot up my knuckles, but I welcomed it.

“You deserved it, asshole.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head.

I used to think I was untouchable.

That I was in control of everything.

That nothing could shake me.

But now?

I wasn’t in control of shit.

Not my memories.

Not my past.

Not the fact that the only woman I had ever given a damn about had looked me dead in the eyes and said, stay out of my life.

I let out a rough breath, my fingers tightening around the bottle.

Then—

I threw it.

The glass shattered against the wall, whiskey dripping down like fucking blood.

Silence.

I stood there, my chest rising and falling, staring at the mess I had made.

Just like I had made a mess of everything else.

A part of me wanted to grab another bottle and keep drinking until I passed out.

But I didn’t.

Because alcohol wouldn’t fix this.

Wouldn’t undo what I had done.

Wouldn’t change the fact that I had ruined the only real chance I had ever had at a family.

I dragged my hands down my face, my breathing uneven.

I had to do something.

Anything.

But for the first time in my life—

I had no fucking clue where to start.

I stood there, staring at the broken glass on the floor, my breathing uneven.

Then, without thinking, I pulled out my phone.

My fingers hovered over the screen for a second before I exhaled and called the only person I could.

The phone rang twice before a familiar, warm voice answered.

“Rowan?”

My chest tightened.

“Grandmother.”

There was a brief silence. Then—

“What’s wrong?”

She always knew.

Even when I didn’t say a word.

I let out a rough breath, pressing my fingers against my temple.

“I think I really fucked up.”

A small sigh. “I was wondering when you’d realize that.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

“Painfully.”

I leaned against the counter, gripping the edge.

“I remembered something.”

She was quiet for a moment. “About Remi?”

My throat bobbed. “Yeah.”

Another pause. Then—

“And?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I think…I think I treated her like shit.”

A heavy sigh. “You did.”

My jaw clenched.

I don’t know why I expected her to sugarcoat it.

She never had before.

“Then what the hell do I do now?” My voice came out rougher than I intended.

She hummed softly. “Do you want the easy answer or the real one?”

I huffed, rubbing my temples. “The real one.”

Her voice was gentle. “Then listen carefully, Rowan. You don’t fix something like this overnight. You don’t demand forgiveness. You don’t throw money at it and hope it goes away. You do the only thing you can do—”

She paused.

Then she said the words that would stick with me forever.

“You prove to her that this version of you is different.”

I swallowed hard. “And if she never forgives me?”

Her voice softened. “Then you make sure she never regrets her decision to leave.”

The air left my lungs.

I had spent so long trying to prove that I wasn’t the villain in her story.

But the truth was—

I had been.

And no amount of apologies could erase that.

“Rowan.”

I blinked. “Yeah?”

She sighed. “Do you love her?”

I went still.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

I thought of her voice.

He
r laugh.

The way she had stood there tonight, eyes burning, stronger than I had ever seen her before.

The woman I had once broken.

The woman who had rebuilt herself without me.

She was beautiful. She was smart. Her smileade me want to smile.

It made my heart skip a beat.

And for the first time—

I had my answer.

“Yeah, Grandmother.”

My voice was quiet.

Raw.

Honest.

“I think I do.”

She didn’t sound surprised. “Then don’t waste it.”

I exhaled.

And this time—

I knew exactly where to start.