Page 33 of Moon Shot

“Love you, too,” I shouted back at him, leaving the bathroom when I heard the door latch. Sorting through Aubrey’s closet was like Christmas. I was debating between a violet dress with a neckline to kill, or black pants and a lacey white top, when my alarm buzzed. I had fifteen minutes to throw myself together and get to work, while I still had a job to go to.

Maggie was waiting for me when I got into my office, twirling her curls, when I dropped my car keys on my desk and sat down across from her.

“That dress is gorgeous!” She shrieked, her eyes wide as she grinned at me. When I thanked her for the compliment, she started rambling unprofessionally about the effect she thought it would have on my boyfriend, and then she asked when we planned to take another group to an Emeralds game.

It was a flurry of a ramble, but I handled it by trying to remember when I was her age a few years ago and wild about someone as pretty as Diego Leon.

“Today’s the meeting with Portland University and Willamette State,” she told me. “I have the conference room set up for you and Harrison.”

“Thank you, Maggie. It’ll be great if you can join us. I know your professors will want to see firsthand what a magnificent job you’re doing here.” I owed it to her to give as great of a review as I could, while she still had time to work with us.

We were meeting about taking on new interns, and I had to work with Harrison to explain how there might not be a future. The meeting went well as Harrison’s charisma left open the possibility of changes while still keeping the relationship intact.

I sent Maggie home early, wanting quiet to finish some data analysis for Harrison before a big meeting on Monday. Barely noticing when people left for the weekend, I was glued to my laptop before I realized it was almost nine. With my morning being so rushed, I hadn’t been to Rowan’s for his cat and the poor thing couldn’t starve on my watch.

It didn’t help my mood being stuck behind a protest and barricades downtown while trying to get from work to Rowan’s house. It was almost ten by the time I got there. Going in the way I had always done, I turned the kitchen light on andhis cat came running to me.

The house was quiet; the silence bringing with it a flood of memories from last weekend. We seemed to work so well together before I brought up his limits. I know whatever happened wasn’t my fault, and I was still mad at him for the way he treated me, but then why was I there? Why was I even feeling offended? We weren’t friends. At least not like Ethan and I, or Ezra and I. We were something else, and the longer I stood in his kitchen staring at the pieces of his life, those boundaries blurred.

His cat rubbed against my legs, almost tripping me on the stairs as I went into the laundry room. Rowan’s clothes were in a basket or hanging to dry from before he’d left for his away games. The laundry room smelled like his cologne and fabric softener, something about that mix making me feel at ease.

Once the cat had happily eaten, I picked it up and started carrying it out of the laundry room when the asshole puked right down the front of Aubrey’s dress. This is not happening. Maybe it was Rowan’s house laughing at me for coming back, but Aubrey wouldn’t think it was so funny if I returned her dress with a stain. Feeling a little frantic, I looked around for detergent, hoping to not set the stain. When I tried opening the carton, the damn thing spilled everywhere. My legs were blue, the floor was blue. The damn cat is blue.

I handled washing the cat first, and that was a treat. My arms were only a little scratched, and now Rowan’s cat hated me. The silver lining was that Aubrey’s dress was soaking in detergent the whole time I dealt with the rest of the mess. Kneeling beneath the dryer, I sorted through what laundry was in there, knowing I should’ve been out of there an hour ago, but still ankle-deep in detergent and cleavage-high with the other mess. Praying Rowan wouldn’t notice or that he’d at least be more forgiving than last weekend, I pulled on a pair of his gray sweats and a white t-shirt while I rinsed Aubrey’s dress in the washtub.

Rich people and their designer appliances. It was tricky to figure out how to use his washer and dryer, but after some curse words and swift kicks, I had Aubrey’s dress in the wash. At Rowan’s. Hitting my palm against my face, I pulled it out before the full cycle could go and tossed it in the dryer, hoping that would be quicker so I could leave.

Tapping my nails along the top of the dryer didn’t speed things up. Pacing the laundry room didn’t either. The cat followed me upstairs, trying to trip and kill me again before I walked to the living room and sat on the couch. I’d only wait a few more minutes and take the dress out. It just needed to dry a little more. But who am I kidding? My eyes are closed and these clothes are too comfy. Crap.

I was dreaming about high school, the type that pops up when I’m already feeling humiliated in reality, when Rowan’s cat woke me. It jumped on my back, sliding its tail along my cheek before its warm head pressed against my cheek. That’s not the cat. Definitely not the—

“I’m sorry, Meredith.” Rowan whispered, kissing my forehead. He hadn’t seen my eyes open, so I bought some time and tried to still my heart. I limply burrowed into the blanket he placed over me, trying not to stir when his fingers grazed my bare feet. Rowan’s footsteps trailed away, and I squinted to see where he was, only to catch him kick off his shoes and go upstairs. The sound of his shower should’ve lulled me to sleep, but I’d seen too much in Seattle and my thoughts were everywhere they shouldn’t be.

Rolling over to face the cushion and not stare at the stairs waiting for him to come out of the bathroom dripping with water and every woman’s fantasy, I resented the twisting knot in my stomach. The one that told my brain to go upstairs.

I couldn’t have feelings for Rowan. My nerves were a lie. Sleep deprivation. The warm, soft cocoon of his blanket and sweats. They had to be.

The smell of coffee woke me sometime the following morning. Peeking through squinting eyes, I noticed the streetlights were still on and the light barely shifted from gray to gold. I had to face Rowan eventually, especially after I broke into his laundry and stole his clothes before falling asleep on the couch. But those pesky feelings crept back in. He apologized. He covered me with a blanket. He let me sleep there. He didn’t wake me up and make me leave. He kissed me.

Wrapping the blanket around me, I took my time following a path lit only by the kitchen stove light. The clock read four thirty. I waited, wondering when Rowan would come down so we could start over and go back to being a not-real-fighting fake couple.

Looking around the empty kitchen, I noticed Aubrey’s dress draped over the back of a chair with a fluffy white towel folded next to it. Carrying it with me, I peered in every room I passed on my way to the bathroom, feeling more alone with each step. After I showered and slipped back into yesterday’s dress, I prepared myself emotionally to leave. I ran down the stairs to find my heels and bag, slamming into Rowan as I reached the foyer.

“I’m sorry,” we spoke in unison. He stepped back, holding a white box in his hands, with his lips turned in.

“I ran down to get you a cinnamon roll. Coffee’s in the kitchen. I’m,” he swallowed, his eyes landing on my legs, “heading out.”

“Can we talk about last weekend?” I reached for his wrist, making sure he wouldn’t leave, letting go when our eyes met.

“No,” Rowan replied. “There’s nothing to talk about. You’re amazing and I was a jerk. The discussion ends there. And somehow,” he smiled at me, “you slept on my couch last night.”

Closing my eyes in embarrassment, I considered how ridiculous that might have seemed. “The cat. Aubrey told me you asked her to do it. She thought we weren’t okay.” I watched his eyes flick to the floor. “And I didn’t know what to tell her, so the right thing to do was to feed your cat. Then that evil thing puked on me, and I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“In my clothes.”

“In your clothes. This looks worse than it is,” I blushed, “but I promise you it won’t happen again. It’s almost October, anyway.”

Rowan started walking away toward the kitchen, his voice trailing his footsteps. “You’re welcome to sleep over whenever you want to.”

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