Page 37 of We're Not Strangers Anymore

“What’s that?” He asks, meeting my gaze.

“Why did you watch me but never approach me? You want me to stay but, we wouldn’t have even gotten to know eachother had my father not offered me to you.” The questions I’ve been asking myself spill from my lips.

He sits up slightly, leaning back against the headboard. “Rowan, it’s not as simple as that,” he begins, his voice low and thoughtful. “When I first saw you, I was immediately drawn to you, my natural instinct was to protect you. It was something I never felt before, and you and I live two different lives. There’s too many factors that would take a while to explain.”

I sit up with him, leaning against his shoulder. “We’re in no rush right now. Explain.” I command softly.

He sighs, looking down at the sheet pulled over his lap. “I couldn’t guarantee that you’d spend your life with me by taking you on dates and going through the whole dating process. I couldn’t guarantee that I’d still even be interested in you after getting to know you, honestly. The fascination I felt was too good, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

I bite my lip, processing his words. “So– what do you feel now?” I’m not sure if I want his answer, but I also feel like I need it.

“I feel like I wasted my time not getting to know you a long time ago. I feel a lot of things now, Row.” His Gaze hardensand the vulnerability I thought I saw disappears behind a mask of stoic control.

There’s still a wall of unspoken words between us. A barrier of emotions that neither of us have fully breached. I can feel it in the way he holds back, I do the same with him a lot of the time. We’re not good with our words, neither of us.

“We’re not strangers anymore, Grayson. Just know that.” I whisper.

Rowan

The morning sunlight streams through the kitchen windows, casting a warm golden glow over Graysons features, highlighting the green of his eyes. The scent of freshly brewed espresso and sizzling bacon fills the air, mingling with the faint aroma of Grayson’s cologne on my skin. He stands at the stove, his broad shoulders relaxed as he flips an omelet. I sit at the kitchen island sipping a cup of coffee, watching him with a soft smile. Under different circumstances, this could be our life. Simple, quiet.

The intimacy of last night carries into this morning, lingering between us. Every glance, I catch him smiling, I catch myself too. For once it doesn’t feel like we're part of some business arrangement, it feels– deeper.

“How do you like your eggs?” He asks, his voice warm and familiar.

“Scrambled, please,” I reply. “And I could get used to this. Breakfast cooked by a Mafia boss.”

He chuckles, the sound rich and comforting. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not sure how many more recipes I know.”

Just as he finishes plating the eggs and bacon, the back door opens and Laila walks in with Sophia.

“Good morning!” Sophia greets us, her voice cheerful. “I hope we’re not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Grayson replies smoothly, turning to greet them. “We were just about to eat. Join us?”

Laila raises an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between Grayson and I. “Well this is a surprise. I didn’t know you were such a domestic goddess, Grayson.”

I can't help but laugh, catching Grayson’s eyes with a playful look. We all sit down at the dining table and Grayson says their family prayer before we eat.

“So it looks like you newlyweds are growing quite fond of each other.” Sophia breaks the silence.

“Yeah, I guess we’re getting used to each other.” Grayson says, nonchalantly.

“Oh bullshit I saw you two walking back to the house late last night laughing your asses off. Just admit you like Rowan.” Laila teases.

Grayson tenses. “Enough, Laila.”

“You do! Everyone can see it.”

Grayson shifts uncomfortably as I watch their encounter. “I saidenough. And I’m not twelve years old, I don’t need to admit Ilikeanyone.”

Sophia smiles warmly, oblivious to the underlying tension. “Well, this is nice. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a family breakfast like this. Speaking of family meals, Sunday dinner tonight. Rowan, the carbonara you made back in Chicago was phenomenal, you have to make it again for Grayson.”

“Yeah he never got to try it, oh my gosh Grayson it issogood!” Laila cuts in.

“Sounds like a plan. We’ll throw on some Frank Sinatra and have a couple glasses of wine.” I say, looking over at Laila.

“Girl, you are the sister I never had.” She laughs.

---