So yes, things were going well. Really fucking well.

Things going well usually meant something terrible was coming. I’d learned that. Worrying was my way of coping, my way of preparing. If I wasn’t ready, my anxiety serving as an invisible buffer from whatever was coming, the terrible thing would catch me by surprise, knocking me off my feet.

The problem was, I had a man who was making me happy. Healthy. I worried less. A lot less. Especially since I’d told him all about my crazy. He hadn’t gone running. Didn’t even flutter an eyelash. He took it in stride. Took me in stride.

So, I stopped.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Not completely, of course. I had endured years of trauma, creating multiple layers of anxiety. That didn’t get fixed overnight. Or by being with a man I was utterly in love with.

The man who had yet to show any of his imperfections to me beyond his over-the-top, protective, alpha tendencies. Which I didn’t hate a bit, even if they didn’t align with the feminist I knew myself to be.

I couldn’t imagine falling asleep without him. Without my body satisfied from his touch.

Nor could I imagine days when he didn’t visit the bakery. I struggled to remember the time that existed before us. We were in a bubble. That magical bubble that was created in the beginning of a relationship, when lust burned hot, and everything was new, special and exciting.

I still got butterflies. Even though he was basically living with me. And they didn’t feel like the fleeting kind of butterflies you get when you first start a relationship; they felt permanent.

I knew we had to have some conversations. The kinds of conversations two adults in a relationship had. Like where this was going. If we were going to live together, where would that be? I liked Rowan’s house a lot, but my home was sacred to me. It was something I’d created. Not to mention it now had Rowan’s touch on it. I couldn’t even think of letting it go in the same way I couldn’t let my bakery go.

And if we were going to live together, what did that look like?

Rowan struck me as the kind of man who would insist on taking care of all of the bills, and that would not work for me. I’d grinded, hustled and worked my ass off in order to afford my lifestyle. To earn it. I wouldn’t hand it over to a man. Even this man.

Yes, all sorts of conversations needed to be had.

“You’re not allowed to keep coming here,” I scolded him, trying to keep a straight face and make my tone firm with disapproval.

But I failed miserably.

Rowan’s eyes twinkled as he looked at me like I was the only person in the room. The only person on the planet.

It wasn’t something you got used to. And despite the warmth his gaze provided, there was a slice of ice, buried deep in my heart, whispering that this wasn’t going to last. That this wasn’t how it ended for me.