Under One Roof
The house had finally quieted down. After what felt like hours of coaxing Larry and Laura through bedtime stories and quiet reassurances, the twins were safely tucked away, their breathing deep and even. I slipped downstairs, grateful for the calm that had settled over the house.
In the kitchen, I reached for a half-empty bottle of wine from earlier, pouring myself a generous glass. The coolness of the marble countertop beneath my fingers felt grounding, familiar in a way I desperately needed. Leaning back against it, I let my eyes close briefly, savoring the quiet.
“You didn’t invite me to your private party?”
My eyes flew open. Rowan stood at the kitchen doorway, one shoulder leaning casually against the frame. He’d changed into a simple black sweater and dark sweatpants, his hair slightly messy from playing with the twins. He looked softer somehow, less burdened, and a warmth spread through me just at the sight of him.
“Didn’t realize you wanted an invite,” I teased lightly, tipping the glass in his direction. “But you’re always welcome.”
He smiled softly, crossing the room and reaching into the cabinet for another glass. I poured for him without a word, and he took a quiet sip, eyeing me thoughtfully.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
“Yeah,” I said softly, watching the deep red swirl in my glass. “For now, at least. It’s just strange having moments like these after everything.”
Rowan nodded slowly, eyes warm as he studied me. “I know. It almost feels wrong to be at peace, doesn’t it?”
“Exactly,” I breathed, relief washing through me that he understood without explanation. “But we deserve these moments, don’t we?”
“More than most,” Rowan replied quietly, leaning against the counter beside me, our shoulders brushing lightly. “God knows we’ve earned them.”
We stood together quietly, sipping wine, comfortable in the easy silence. It felt strange and fragile, yet so very welcome. I glanced at Rowan, seeing the slight shadows beneath his eyes, reminders of what we’d faced. And yet, there was a new ease in his posture, a quiet confidence that made me believe—maybe for the first time—that we really could find our way back to each other.
After a moment, I let out a small laugh. Rowan glanced at me curiously, an eyebrow raised.
“What’s funny?”
“I just remembered something,” I admitted, smiling softly as I took another sip. “It’s about Jo.”
Rowan tilted his head, curious now. “Jo? Did she threaten to burn my kitchen down again?”
“No,” I said, laughing softly. “It’s about Jo and Callum.”
He stilled, looking at me closely. “Jo and…Callum? Wait, seriously?”
I nodded, grinning despite myself. “Yeah. Apparently, they met at your charity gala. A bit of wine, some flirting and, well, you know how these things go.”
He stared at me, blinking, genuinely stunned. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” I shook my head, amusement bubbling inside me. “And it gets better.”
“Better or worse?” he asked warily.
“Depends on your perspective,” I teased. “Jo’s pregnant.”
Rowan nearly choked on his wine. He quickly set the glass down, coughing once before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wide in disbelief. “Fuck.”
“Exactly my reaction,” I laughed softly. “She’s pretty rattled. I don’t think she ever expected it to get this serious, especially not with Callum.”
Rowan rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “Callum and Jo. Jesus. He never mentioned it. How the hell did we not notice?”
I shrugged helplessly, my smile fading slightly. “There’s been a lot going on. And Callum’s good at hiding things.”
Rowan nodded slowly, eyes thoughtful. “Still, it explains a lot. He’s been tense—more so than usual.”
“They both have,” I said quietly. “She hasn’t told him yet. She’s scared.”
Rowan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This could get complicated.”
“It’s already complicated,” I pointed out gently. “But Jo needs us.”
“We’ll support her,” Rowan agreed instantly. “Whatever she needs, we’ll make sure she has it.”
I smiled softly, grateful again for his immediate certainty. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said, voice gentle. “Jo’s family too.”
Warmth filled my chest, and for a moment, I felt deeply grateful to be standing there, in this kitchen, sharing this quiet moment with Rowan. It felt right. Despite all the chaos surrounding us, we had this—this fragile peace.
Rowan set his wineglass down, studying me closely. “You’re doing it again.”
“What?” I asked softly.
“Taking on everyone else’s worries,” he said gently, stepping closer. “When’s the last time you let someone else carry yours?”
I looked away briefly, swallowing down sudden emotion. “Maybe that’s just who I am now.”
His hand gently cupped my cheek, thumb brushing softly across my skin. “You don’t always have to be strong alone, Remi. I’m here.”
I leaned into his touch slightly, closing my eyes briefly. “I know. I’m learning to accept that.”
He smiled gently, pulling me carefully into his arms. For a long moment, we just stood together, quiet, feeling the steady rhythm of each other’s breathing. It felt safe, steady—like maybe we could finally trust the ground beneath our feet again.
A sudden memory pushed at the edges of my peace, the photograph’s haunting image flickering briefly across my mind. I tensed slightly without meaning to, and Rowan immediately felt it.
“What’s wrong?” he murmured softly, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. “Remi?”
I hesitated, suddenly nervous to speak the words aloud. The photograph had felt like my own private ghost—a silent threat haunting me—but now, with Rowan’s steady eyes watching me so closely, I knew I couldn’t keep it hidden any longer.
I took a shaky breath. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet.”
He frowned slightly, concern deepening his expression. “Okay… what is it?”
“The day we were packing up to move here,” I said slowly, “I found something. It’s why I stayed behind at the house. It felt… important.”
Rowan straightened, fully alert now. “What did you find?”
“Hold on.” I stepped away from him briefly, reaching into the pocket of my cardigan draped over the counter chair. My fingers brushed the worn edge of the photograph, and even that small touch made anxiety churn inside me again. When I returned, I handed the picture to Rowan, wordless.
He took it carefully, eyes immediately narrowing as he studied the small, worn image. I watched his expression closely, noting the subtle tightening around his mouth, the hardening of his gaze.
“This is you,” he said quietly, finally meeting my eyes again. “When was this taken?”
I shook my head slowly. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen this photo before—it doesn’t match any memory I have. But it was hidden beneath the twins’ bedroom door when we were moving out. Like someone deliberately placed it there for me to find.”
His jaw flexed, gaze sharpening. “Someone broke into your house and left this?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
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