Page 27 of One Last Chance

But as much as I want to lean into this and be happy, my mind drifts to what he said, and to doubt. He loves his children, that I’m sure of. Yet he sounds like someone who is well and truly done with all that. With having kids just for the sake of it. His position would be nothing but mature, just like Rowland is about most things.

It’s stupid. The fact that I even for a second consider asking him if he’d ever want more kids. I hold my tongue, not wantingto embarrass myself or ruin this charming little bubble we have here.

The waitress is back with our food, so I use the perfect opportunity to order something to drink. I’m going to need it. The best alcohol does for me is that it washes away all the stupid, hateful, bothersome thoughts from my mind that stop me from having fun and enjoying the moment.We don’t need your needless thinking today, dear brain.

“And for you, sir?” The waitress turns to Rowland after I make my order.

He glances at her, and blinks before shaking his head. “I’m good with my tonic, thank you,” he says. With how nervous he was before, and his love for wine, I would’ve expected him to let loose a bit.

“I’m driving,” he says once he notices my curious expression. “Besides, I better keep my head clear tonight.”

“In case your daughter runs in again?” I joke.

Rowland grimaces at me, pursing his lips. “Very funny.” He leans over the plates between us to poke at me, but pauses and draws in the air through his nose. At first I think he is smelling the delicious-looking chicken pilaf, but then it hits me, and so does the nauseating anxiety that follows.

“You smell nice,” he notes softly. “Cologne?”

I really hope the enormous relief is not visible on my face. To hide how freaked out I got, I quickly put a fork full of the food in my mouth and a few quickly before responding with a nod.It’s fine. All is good.

“It’s Ripples by Phi Levi.”

“Huh. That sounds familiar,” he says, intrigued.

“Funny you say that, considering it’s almost three hundred a bottle.”

He frowns playfully. “Are you calling me snobbish?!”

“High-class, more like,” I say with a wink. Rowland seems amused and relaxed, and so am I. We both look down, smiling, and each take a few bites of our food.

“Well, I am honored you’ve used one of your expensive colognes for me, but you truly could do without it, you know? No reason to spend such money when people like us have a built-in perfumery of our own.”

His comment sends an unpleasant tinge through my chest. I swallow the food with some struggle and flash him a faint smile.If only he knew.“Always thought the whole pheromone fixation is a little over the top, really,” I say with less confidence and energy than I would’ve wanted. Rowland stays quiet, and I feel his eyes on me, so I act like I’m focused on my food until the awkward moment passes.

“Yeah, I…suppose you’ve got a point,” he notes in a low voice and clears his throat. “This steak is delicious, but I think it is missing a side of some good red. I’ll have one glass after all, I think. I’ll be right back.” With a smile, Rowlands stands and goes to the bar to order one.

“Come on, get it together,” I mutter to myself and take a sip from my glass of gin and tonic.Things are going well, so don’t fuck it up with your insecurity.

When Rowland comes back, the conversation continues to flow naturally, with the little hiccup seemingly forgotten. We laugh, we banter. I teasingly shift my leg under the table to rest it against his, with our knees touching. Rowland keeps giving me his mysterious glances that make me wonder what twisted things he must be imagining, because I can tell he does, and I do too.

Time flies when you’re having fun. We finish our food and go sit at one of the outside tables overlooking the lake. Trying not to get too wasted and out of control, I sip on my third drink but can’t help to rest my head against my hand, tilting it andsmiling at Rowland like I’m a love-struck fool as he talks about fun memories with his kids.

I allow myself to dream; to imagine us together, doing things happy people do, spending time with our families, even if deep down I know this will end at some point.

I really don’t want it to.

The night draws to a close as more and more people leave the restaurant, leaving us the only ones sitting outside. Knowing I have to start getting ready to end this wonderful evening, I glance back inside, where workers are cleaning tables and closing up the bar.

When I look back at Rowland, he seems a little…off. He leans over the table after taking a few gulps of his water and his eyes seem strangely glazed over.

“Are you alright?” I ask, growing more alert. He’s been a little unwell-looking for a while, but I figured he was just tired. Now he’s actually looking sickly.

Rowland nods with a smile that doesn’t entirely hide whatever discomfort he’s feeling. “Just a little hot. My head’s— Probably getting a migraine, wouldn’t be surprised with how long I’ve been staring into my computer screen last night.” He tries to portray that confident front like always, but he’s not fooling me.

“Hey.” I lean toward him, touching his hand gently. Up close, I notice the droplets of sweat glistening on his forehead and his neck. “You seem really hot, actually.”

He smirks, almost drunkenly. “Well, thank you for the compliment.”

I ignore his stupid comment and reach for his face. As I place the back of my hand against his forehead, I realize he is, in fact, non-figuratively, burning up. Frowning, I move my hand to his cheek and feel the same heat. Rowland closes his eyes, leaning into my touch with a deep sigh.

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