Page 20 of Back to Square One

She waited for Evie and Claire to get all the way upstairs and for their bedroom door to click shut before she followed. She didn’t want to overhear anything they might say, any sweet nothings or whispers, or see anything resembling intimate touches. While she still didn’t know if they were together, Claire seemed awfully attentive to Evie, and while Rowan didn’t really have any right to complain about it, she also didn’t have to look.

The rain came down steadily as Rowan closed the door of her bedroom. Without turning on the light, she walked to the French doors and stood, watching as lightning streaked across the sky over the water, lighting up the lake in a dazzling display. She’d always loved a good storm, and when a rumble of thunder followed the lightning, she dragged a chair across the carpet so she could sit and watch.

Thunder and lightning were loud and scary to many, but Rowan found them beautiful. She had so many memories of sitting in her mother’s lap, watching out the window or sitting together on the porch if it was warm enough, and just watching the mighty display of nature. It always felt to Rowan a little bit like a performance just for her, and she felt that way now as she pulled a blanket off the bed, curled her legs up underneath her in the big, overstuffed chair—which was surprisingly comfortable—and settled in for the show.

While it really wasn’t a surprise whenever Rowan fell asleep where she sat, the giant crack of thunder that jolted her awake was. With no idea how long she’d been asleep in the chair, she untucked her legs, then had to sit for a moment as the prickly sensation ran its course through her numb limbs. Finally certain she could do so without falling on her ass, she pushed to her feet and stretched, a glance at the clock on the nightstand telling her it was after midnight.

Long storm, she thought as she watched the clouds roll off to the east and make way for the moon. Its reflection on the water was gorgeous, a breathtaking sight, and Rowan stood for a few moments, just soaking it in.

A small sound in the hall caught her attention, though she wasn’t sure what it was. Curious, she moved toward her door and put her hand on the knob, but she heard whispers before she could pull it open.

“Where the hell did you go?” That was Claire, clearly angry, her whisper hissed.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went downstairs.” That was Evie, and while her whisper wasn’t as irritated as Claire’s, there was a definite edge.

“You can’t just go off like that. What if you fall?”

Evie sighed. “Then I fall. It’s not the end of the world.”

What if she fell? That was an oddly specific thing to worry about.

There was a beat, as if Claire was collecting herself. Or maybe trying to rein herself in. “You can’t just go off without telling me.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say I can’t?” Now Evie was mad. Rowan knew that tone—knew all her tones—very well.

“I mean you shouldn’t.” Claire was obviously backpedaling. “You shouldn’t go off without telling me.”

Evie’s voice got a little softer, but Rowan suspected it was because she was moving away, toward their own bedroom down the hall. “Claire, seriously, I love you, but you have to back the fuck off.”

Oh, wow. Rowan rolled her lips in, straining to hear more.

But next came the sound of the door closing—not a slam, but definitely louder than a gentle click. The discussion went on, but Rowan couldn’t make out the words any longer, just the muffled sounds of a conversation she wasn’t privy to.

Well. Sounds like trouble in paradise.

She didn’t want to smile about that as she moved to her bed and slid under the covers. She didn’t want to feel a little glimmer of satisfaction.

But she did both.

The next morning showed that the clouds had rolled off to darken some other doorsteps, and by the time Rowan headed down to breakfast, the sun was reflecting off the water like the surface had been sprinkled with tiny diamonds.

“Morning,” she said to Justine—who was making French toast—as she pulled a mug out of the cupboard.

Stevie and Lizzie were off fishing again. Becca and Claire were on the living room couch chatting in soft voices. Evie was nowhere to be found.

“Morning,” Justine said, flipping four slices in rapid succession. “Sleep okay? Did the thunder keep you up? That was a long-ass storm.”

“Nah, I love storms like that.” She poured some cream into her coffee and made a show of looking around. “Where’s Evie?”

“Still sleeping, I think,” Justine said with a half shrug.

She nodded. “I’m gonna go sit by the water. You need anything?”

“Nope. You’re good. Don’t fall in.”

“Aw, look at you, ruining all my fun.”

Despite the sunshine and warm temperature, it still smelled like rain, and Rowan inhaled deeply as she headed down the stairs to the dock. At the very end near the water, there was an Adirondack chair, and she wondered if Stevie—ever the early riser—had dragged it out there to have her own coffee that morning. She took a seat, held her mug in both hands, and again breathed deeply the scents of water, earth, sunshine, and coffee.