Page 18 of Yes No Maybe

“I’ve handled bad attitudes before—”

“Yes, but not under your roof. It’s different.”

Rowan huffs with irritation. “It almost sounds like you want to talk me out of it.”

“No. I only want you to have realistic expectations. This won’t be a three-month slumber party. Sharing your space with an angry teenager will be challenging.”

“Yes, and I’m up for it. Trust me.”

A beat passes before Mira sighs. “I do. I knew you’d say yes. Thanks for being willing to try it. Do you want to talk to Dean before starting the process?”

Their pleasant back and forth stops abruptly.

Rowan recovers with a weak, “No, it’s fine. I’ll let him know.”

“Youaretalking to Dean still, right?”

Another hesitation makes the air feel hollow around them. “He asked for space. I’m respecting his wishes… I broke his heart, Mira. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

“So, now he gets to break your heart every day. Is that it?”

I nearly trip over Harper Lee to grab a notebook from my desk—that’s a damn good line.

“When was the last time you heard from him?”

“The day he left.”

“No texts? No calls?”

Rowan shakes her head. So do I. Whatever esteem I had for the woman devouring her meal after being rejected by sight fizzles. She isn’t confident or strongly indifferent. She’s a fucking pushover.

Mira says, “You deserve better, and you don’t have to put up with it.”

“I love him. I don’t have a choice.”

“He’s not showing you any love. And youalwayshave a choice. I know you think that Dean seems nothing like the assholes of your past—”

“Seems?”

“Yes,seems. You don’tknowhim, Rowan, and men have turned on you before. I don’t need to remind you—”

“No, you don’t,” she snaps. Her fingers flutter with her napkin, nervously folding it into triangles. “I really don’t want a history lesson, okay?”

Oh, please, give us a history lesson, I think, pen at the ready.

“Fine, I’ll just say this—The men of your past… You didn’tdeservethem, Rowan. Yousurvivedthem. Don’t settle for Dean because you think he’s as good as you’ll get.”

I capture Mira’s words verbatim, and they repeat in my head. Shesurvivedthem. She survivedthem.Shesurvived them. The rusty wheels of my creativity sluggishly start to turn.

Their silence compounds the tension, making it thick like humidity. Mira’s quick to laugh it off. “Tell me you got him for breaking your no-romance rules with the proposal, at least. We worked hard on those.”

My writer senses tingle again. If done right, romance is sweet and sexy, the thing that separates one person from all the rest. Who doesn’t want to feel that beautiful attention? That adoration? That love?

Rowan’s nerves scatter in a chuckle. “That was… quite the night.”

“After Trent, we needed it. Your no-romance rules were useful at the time. No more wine and roses.”

“No PDA or fancy dinners,” Rowan tacks on, like they’re playing a game.

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