“Why do I need to stop coming here?” he asked, voice like honey. A rich, masculine kind of honey, though.

“Because,” I sighed. “You’re much too distracting, and I’ve got to get work done.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “And you can’t work when I’m around?”

“It’s exceptionally hard.”

“But I’m only here two times a day.”

“Three,” I corrected him. “You come in the morning before anyone else is here.”

“We both do,” he teased, leaning forward to coil my hair around his finger.

My whole body tingled from his touch, from the hungry look in his eye, from the memories of what he did when he came in the mornings.

I smiled lazily back at him, leaning forward, not caring whether our public display of affection was unprofessional in my place of business.

The smile froze on my face as my eyes swung toward the door and settled on the person walking through it. My heart stopped beating, and everything inside me turned to ice.

Rowan ceased to exist. The world around me ceased to exist. I didn’t remember doing it, but I must’ve walked around the counter and met her at the door. There was no other explanation for how I was standing in front of her in one slow blink.

There was no reason for her to be here.

She wouldn’t come for a visit. Not to see me. Not to see the business I’d created. The life I’d created.

There was only reason she’d be here.

Death.

And still, her clothes were pressed, her hair coiffed into a chignon, her makeup expertly applied. As it always was. Even when there was no money to pay our water bill, there was money for my mother to get her weekly blowout. Her priorities were always crystal clear.

There was a very slight redness to her eyes, but that could’ve been a trick of the light. Otherwise, she looked like an attractive, upper middle class, sixty-year-old woman who thought she was better than everyone.

Her daughter included.

Her daughter especially.

Normally, that haughty look of veiled disdain, the upturned chin, the pinch of disappointment and judgment between her brows did something to me.

Though I couldn’t say ‘normally,’ since I hadn’t seen the woman in years.

“What did you do?” I hissed, my voice unrecognizable. I realized my hands were clenched, but otherwise, I couldn’t feel my limbs.

My mother’s lips pursed in what I assumed was irritation and impatience. “Nora—”

“What did you do?” I screamed at her.

My mother glanced around. “Nora, we should not have this conversation here.”

“Here is the only place we’re having this conversation,” I snarled. I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Because I didn’t think my legs would hold me.

There was warmth at my side, a strong presence. My mother’s eyes went to him.

Rowan.

He came because he saw my distress. Because that’s what he did. He showed up to protect me. Shield me.

But Rowan didn’t matter to me. Not now. Not at that moment.