Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ROWAN

They’re waiting for me in the living room when I open the door to my house. Holly and Bryn. Ivy. Harry and Oliver, who gives me a nod. I guess my sisters felt bad enough for me that they left their gooey other halves home.

“An all hands on deck meeting, huh?” I ask, walking past them to get to the fridge. I’d hook myself up to a beer IV if I could. What started as the best night of my life quickly devolved into one of the worst. Then again, that’s always been the way my luck has swung—one side of the pendulum to the other.

They let me get a beer and pop it, then Holly clears her throat and says, “Take a seat.”

“Is this an intervention?” I ask dryly, “because, last I checked, I don’t have a drug problem, and I’m pretty sure anyone would have a beer after the day I had.”

“You walked away from Kennedy,” Harry accuses. Oliver gives me an apologetic look over his shoulder.

“You were a contributing cause to a fire that wiped out a multi-million-dollar house,” I shoot back. The Labelles’ house is totaled. It’s gone. The roof crashed in. The damage is so complete no one other than squirrels will be living there anytime soon. “I hope they had some good fucking insurance…the show too.”

“The show insurance is airtight,” Harry says. He waves a hand. “Apparently, there were some trust issues involving your grandmother, so they locked into the highest plan possible.”

If regret tickles at my throat, then it’s because I’m a selfish asshole. I guess part of me was hoping this meant the show would definitively end. Because earlier, when Kennedy was weeping, trying to push her way to me and Jester, it killed me—absolutely killed me—to act like she meant nothing to me. Like I hadn’t stomped into that burning house, knowing it might be the last thing I did because the puppy she loved was shut up in her bedroom. Like she wasn’t the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, something I didn’t know I was capable of wanting until I let her in.

I scratch my throat, cringing at the pain it causes. My whole face is pink from the fire, although I avoided getting burned any worse. The medics wanted me to go to the hospital for smoke inhalation, but I refused. I’ve needed treatment before, but I feel fine. Chalk it up to a Christmas miracle, I guess. Kennedy probably would.

Okay, I don’t feel fine. That’s a damn lie. But it’s not the smoke that’s making me feel shitty—it’s only a contributing cause.

“Where’s Kennedy?” I blurt. “What happened with the dog?”

“You did good, man,” Oliver says, and there are a couple of nods around the room.

“He needs to stay at the vet to get oxygen for a couple days,” Ivy says. “But he’s fine. You rescued him.”

“Kennedy’s at the inn with the rest of the cast and crew,” Harry says. “They kicked out all the people staying there so they could maintain secrecy.”

I huff out a laugh as I lower into the only empty chair with my beer. “Good fucking luck with that. That fire’s all anyone’s going to talk about for months. Years . The Labelles might try to sue.” Either that, or they’ll be secretly thrilled. They’d been trying to unload that house on the downlow for at least two years, but no one wants a bizarre mansion with themed bedrooms, shocker of all shockers. This way, they’ll get the insurance payout and they’ll get to move. Win–win for them and for the town, I guess, if a fire that almost killed people can be called a win.

It strikes me that Zach and Tina have probably already heard about the fire. Shit. Are they worried? I’m surprised Zach hasn’t barged in here demanding the full story. Unless…

“Do Zach and Tina know about this?”

Harry nods. “They were here earlier. They already know everything. Zach said he needed a stiff drink, and they went to Ziggy’s.”

“You think he’d know by now they only serve beer,” Holly says. “But on the plus side, Cole keeps a bottle of whiskey behind the bar. I texted him and asked him to hook Zach up.”

“I wasn’t a contributing cause to the fire,” Harry adds.

At first, I think he’s just being defensive, but there’s something almost victorious about the way he says it.

“We have something to show you,” Holly says, twitchy in the way she always gets when she has a particularly good secret to share. She grabs her laptop from the coffee table and cues it up, then gestures for me to come closer. I don’t particularly want to see whatever it is or do anything besides obliterate this emptiness I feel inside. But they all seem eager for me to look, so I head over to join them.

It’s a camera feed from the pool room. It’s paused, but it very clearly shows two figures: my grandmother and Jonah. My gaze instantly lifts to Harry, who’s leaning over the computer, Oliver beside him. “You got something.”

“We got something,” he says excitedly.

Holly makes a dun-dun-dun sound, Bryn gives her a nudge, and then the footage is playing.

“You need to step it up, Romeo,” my grandmother tells Jonah. “The next Rolex ceremony is tomorrow night.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” he complains. “My virgin strategy is working.”

“It’s not,” she snaps. “It’s feeble.” Then she reaches out and plays with one of the buttons on his sweater. “Anyone who looks at you can tell you’re not a virgin.” There’s something flirtatious about the way she says it, and I cringe, glancing at my sisters to see them do the same.

He grins. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t think that part through. But she thinks I gave her the dog. We’re golden.”

“You need to reveal, on air, that Marcus has a girlfriend.”

“He does ?” Jonah asks eagerly.

She shrugs. “I’ve hired someone to say she’s his girlfriend. It comes down to the same thing. It’ll ruin his chances, and I’ll convince Kennedy that choosing you will make for the best narrative. But I expect you to come through with your end of the bargain.” She gives him a shrewd look and hands him a file folder that looks like it’s full of oversized photos. “Or else I’ll be sending these directly to Jonah Highbury the Fourth.”

He flips the folder open, winces. “Maeve,” he says, “I thought we were friends .”

She snorts. “I don’t have friends. I have people who are useful to me and people who are not.”

“Fuck,” I blurt. Every time I think my grandmother couldn’t possibly be a worse human being, she goes and surprises me.

“Indeed,” Ivy says.

“Indubitably,” Holly adds.

Bryn, who’s always had a thing for having the last word, says, “Precisely.”

We watch as Nana turns and leaves the room, as Jonah continues to flip through the photos.

“It’s a smoking gun,” I say in wonder, because Harry could have hardly hoped for a better indictment of my grandmother. Although it pains me to admit it, it’ll also make for some good TV if they can figure out a way to use it. Then again, I’m betting both my grandmother and Jonah have already signed releases for video footage for the show. This is video footage made for the show.

“It’s not over,” Holly says with great pleasure. “Keep watching.”

Sure enough, Jonah sits down by the empty pool, looking through those photos, then pulls a lighter out of his pocket and flicks it on, feeding it one photo and then another. They all catch. He sets them down on the tiles next to the empty pool, so he probably thinks what he’s doing is safe enough. Still, he stays until they’re smoldering, no longer in flames.

Then the fucking idiot walks away.

He slams the door, probably pissed about getting blackmailed by my grandmother—not as rare of an event as one would hope—and the curtain rod tumbles down, taking the curtain with it. The curtain doesn’t catch fire immediately, but I can see where this is going.

“Holy shit,” I say.

“See,” Harry tells me a little smugly. “You maligned me. Jonah’s the one who started that fire. I had nothing to do with it.”

I’m shocked, blown away, but I still have to laugh. “Whichever way you look at it, he’s the one who started it. Either with shitty cookies or burning evidence.” One of my buddies at the scene told me the cookie story after the flames finally died down. I lift my eyebrows. “You think those were pictures of him and Nana together?”

“I watched it frame by frame,” Harry says. “They were.”

Part of me is disappointed by what this means. The show will go on, obviously. They have a narrative that’s sure to excite people. This means that Kennedy will have to—

“I feel it’s important for us all to be honest with each other, right?” Holly asks. “Didn’t we decide that?”

Ivy lifts a hand. “I was not present during that discussion, but I agree that we should, in this instance, be brutally honest with Rowan.”

Holly rolls her eyes. “You’re temporarily off the hook for telling us about what’s going on with you, but only because we’re busy speaking our truth to Rowan.”

Our sister nods. “I’ll take it.”

“You’re in love with Kennedy,” Harry tells me. It’s not a question.

“Did she tell you that?”

“No one needs to tell us anything, you dipshit,” Ivy says. “We see it. You’re a changed man. Hell, before all of this went down tonight, I saw you smiling and laughing in that booth with her at Ziggy’s. Despite all the shit that’s gone down with Dad, you’ve been happier lately. Lighter. Don’t you think that’s worth fighting for? Don’t you think she’s worth fighting for?”

“Of course,” I say, annoyed. “I went in there to get her dog, didn’t I?”

“So what the hell are you doing? She was crying earlier, trying to run to you, and when she finally got to you, you acted like you didn’t know her.”

I swear and look down. “I did it for her,” I tell the floor. “She wants to keep doing the show. She doesn’t want to let everyone down.”

“I don’t think you’re telling them the full story,” Harry says knowingly.

“Jesus, did you get into the schnappsicles again, or are you just naturally this chatty?”

I look up at him in time to see his shrug. “Both.”

“Okay, fine,” I snap, irritated because I’m starting to realize how badly I’ve messed all this up, and like most people, I don’t like feeling like a screw-up. “She asked me if I’d go on the show. If the show could tell the story of how we ended up falling in love instead of her choosing one of those dipshits. I said no.” I rub my chest.

“Rowan,” Bryn says in that you’ve disappointed your big sister way.

I bristle. “I hate all the attention this is bringing to us. I didn’t want any part of this. None of us did.”

“But it’s changed,” Harry says, gesturing to the computer. “It’s still changing. Admittedly, this will bring a lot of publicity to your family, but it’s not going to reflect badly on anyone other than your grandmother, and maybe you can use the publicity in a good way.”

“Yes,” Holly says. “This will actually be pretty amazing for our dating app…and Cole’s brewery…and your handyman business.”

“What about your cars?” Bryn says. “Have you ever thought about making that a business? Maybe this is your chance.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” I grumble, feeling overwhelmed by the suggestions because my mind is one on thing—Kennedy and the way I’ve screwed up with her. “I just want to make this right with her, but I don’t want the attention. I don’t—”

“Was she open to the idea of staying in Highland Hills?” Ivy asks with arched brows.

“Yes,” I murmur, her words like a stab.

“Ever heard of compromise, Ro?”

That you’re an asshole feeling is fast becoming a you’re an asshole and an idiot feeling. I see another flash of Kennedy’s face from earlier. Of the tears tracking down her cheeks because she was worried about me and Jester. Other than Willow and the people in this room, no one’s ever cared about me like that before. No one.

“You’re right,” I tell them through numb lips. “I…I love her. I don’t want to lose her. I can’t. I just…I feel like I’m too fucked up for her. Doesn’t she deserve someone better?”

“Who?” Harry asks with a snort. “Jonah Highbury the Fifth? I’d rather see her marry a toilet bowl brush.”

Ivy pats me on the shoulder. “It’s nothing some talk therapy won’t cure.”

I cringe. She swats my shoulder. “Can’t I just talk to all of you?” I ask.

“Maybe,” Holly says. “But you’ll have to do a whole lot better at saying the things you’d normally bury six feet under with a shovel.”

“And then salting the scene and adding a cross,” Ivy adds.

“I think that can be arranged,” I say. Then I nod at the computer. “What are we going to do about Nana?”

“I think I can safely say that none of us want anything to do with her,” Bryn says. We all nod. “I suggest that we leave her to be miserable alone. Rory has graciously offered to pick up the tab if she ever needs to live in a retirement facility or get a home nurse. I’d say that’s where our responsibility to her ends.” She rubs her slightly rounded belly. “I know I don’t want her to have anything to do with the baby.”

“Thank God,” Holly mutters.

I nod thoughtfully. “Okay, yeah. Although I don’t think Rory should have to do shit for her, I’ll admit it takes a load off.”

“So let’s get back to the subject you’re avoiding,” Ivy says. “What are you going to do about Kennedy? Because if this were a romance book, it would really fizzle out if the guy decided his privacy was more important than his love life.”

This makes me flinch. I never, not for one second, wanted Kennedy to feel she’s less important than my desire to be a hermit. But I guess that’s exactly what I did.

“I’m going to stop being an asshole,” I say. “I need to fix this.”

“Good,” Oliver says, speaking for practically the first time this evening. He always has had a better gauge on when to shut up than I do. “Because I don’t want to get stuck matchmaking a grump. That’s something you Mayberrys are supposed to do.” He puts his arm around Harry as he says it—a silent acknowledgement that I did something else right. Maybe it’s time to make a habit of that.

“What do I do, guys?”