Denial And Distraction
I stood too. He said he wanted to keep tabs. I know but I ended specifics so I asked, “Where are you going?”
Rowan stopped at the archway, his back to me. “I need to call in a few people. Security. Guards. Whatever it takes to protect my grandmother. I also need to send some to your home..”
“For what?”
“To keep you and the kids safe. Especially now.” He finally turned around, face serious. “If Gigi really said that… I’m not leaving anything to chance.”
I walked toward him slowly. “Rowan, take a breath.”
He said nothing.
“You’re panicking,” I said quietly. “And I get it. I do. But rushing into calls while angry won’t help.”
“You want me to do nothing?” he shot back.
“I want you to breathe.”
His lips pressed into a line. “Gigi threatened my family, Remi. Yours too.”
“And I’m not saying ignore it. Just… be smart. You’re the one always preaching strategy, right? If she sees that you are bringing guards, she would suspect some things and be more careful rather than being rough so we can catch her red handed.”
He exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck.
I stepped closer. “You can’t lose your mind right now. I need you calm. Focused. Because I can’t handle both of us spiraling.”
He looked at me then, really looked. “You're not spiraling though.”
“I’m pretending not to.”
That pulled a faint breath of a laugh from him.
“When you are done with the call you will sit down,” I said, nodding toward the chair. “Let’s figure this out properly. You call who you need. I’ll check in with the kids. But don’t do anything reckless.”
He hesitated, but then gave in, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Okay.”
“And don’t yell,” I added, stepping away toward the hallway. “You yelling scares the people.”
His voice followed me. “I don’t yell.”
I paused, looking back over my shoulder with a raised brow.
He sighed, already dialing. “Fine. I yell sometimes.”
I smirked. “Exactly.”
As he disappeared around the corner, I heard him mutter into the phone—low and calmly.
Good. He had listened.
I looked around the terrace, sighing to myself.
I hope he found a way to protect Isolde.
I closed my eyes remembering the anger in his eyes. It gave me chills just like it did the last time.
I got angry Irrational Rowan. Meaning that character is still there, there is a possibility that the asshole character would come back.
Would I leave him then? Probably. I am not going to change anyone. It's not my duty to.
I shook my head, I shouldn't be reasoning it. When his memories do come back and he goes back to his old ways, he isn't nearing me or my kids. That's for one.
I looked around the terrace, the wind blowing, cool against my skin.
The view was… something. The lake shimmered like a sheet of glass beneath the sunlight, trees lining its edges like nature’s own barrier. The table had already been set. Linen cloth, gold-trimmed plates, and a pair of crystal glasses that looked like they belonged in a royal collection.
Still, it was quiet. I could hear the birds, the gentle lap of water below, and my own thoughts getting too loud.
Just when I started reaching for my phone out of habit, I heard footsteps.
He came back, his phone in one hand, the other running through his hair. That white shirt he wore earlier was now slightly wrinkled.
His hair more ruffled.
“I made the calls,” Rowan said, pulling out a chair for himself. “Grandmother’s safe. Guards are already there. Not much to make themselves noticable.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
He raised an eyebrow, sitting across from me. “You’re welcome?”
I rolled my eyes. “Its just an habit. I say thank you a lot.”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “It’s fine really.”
Then he waved his hand toward the space around us. “By the way, all of this—lake, terrace, cabins—it’s mine.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I own the property.”
I stared at him.
He leaned back. “Surprised?”
I crossed my arms. “Not really. I mean I expected you to own it but I am curious. You’re a tech CEO. Why do you own a fancy lake resort?”
He shrugged. “I like quiet places. And I invest in tourism. Boutique real estate. Hotels. Retreat centers. I don’t just write code and run meetings.”
I narrowed my eyes. “So this isn’t a public retreat?”
“Nope.”
I looked around again, more slowly this time. “So we’re… alone?”
He nodded. “Entire place is empty except for the staff.”
“Oh.”
He smirked.
“Stop smirking.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking something.”
“I always am.”
I groaned. “Yeah but I have a feeling that you are thinking something naughty. Please do not.”
He poured juice into my glass like he owned the world. Which… he kinda did, apparently.
“So,” he said casually, cutting into a croissant, “how are you liking my resort so far?”
“I feel like I walked into a trap. Too beautiful to be true.”
“I don't know if that's a compliment or an insult or both.”
I gave a reluctant shrug.
“I’ll take that as a yes,”he said, lips twitching.
“Take it however you want. Doesn’t mean I’m impressed.”
“Oh, but you are.”
I gave him a flat look. “You wish.”
“You like the scenery. Form what Asher told me, you like nature. Not just that, the wind, the coolness of the air. You like it too, you look so relaxed. Also, You keep glancing at me when you think I’m not looking.”
My mouth dropped slightly. How had he noticed all that?
Jeez. “I do not you obsessive freak..”
He chuckled. “You just did. Staring at me, your jaw dropping over how handsome I look.”
I gritted my teeth. “Rowan.”
“Yes?”
“Eat your food.”
He grinned, picking up a strawberry and popping it into his mouth like he wasn’t infuriating.
“You always this annoying?” I muttered.
“You used to say it was charming.”
I froze.
He didn’t realize it, but those were his exact words from years ago.
The past tugged at my chest, then I quickly brushed it away and refilled my glass.
Rowan tilted his head, watching me. “Do you really hate me?”
“What?”
“Serious question.” He leaned forward. “Do you hate me? Or is it just easier to pretend you do?”
I didn’t answer right away.
Then, softly, I said, “I don’t know what I feel.”
That softened something in his expression.
Silence fell again, but it wasn’t awkward. Just… careful.
He cut into his omelet, eyes still on me. “You ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d met under different circumstances?”
“Like if you weren’t a jerk?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Like that.”
“Maybe I would’ve given you a real chance.”
“Then maybe I should try again. From scratch.”
I shook my head. “Don’t make this complicated.”
“Remi,” he said, setting his fork down. “It already is.”
I didn’t reply. I had nothing to say. He wanted us to be together but I can't.
I am scared if he keeps on doing this, the wound would open and before it starts to heal, his memories come back as it would be like salt against my wound.
I bit my lips, tapping my fingers against the table.
We sat like that, the lake in the distance, food forgotten for a while.
Then I felt it.
That shift.
I looked at him.
His gaze dropped from my eyes… to my mouth.
His fingers drummed once on the table, slow and calculated.
“You say you don't know how you feel. But your eyes , they speak another tune. You still look at me like you want to kiss me,” he said quietly.
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