Nathan, to his credit, had looked sufficiently sheepish when we ran into each other at the store.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted as I was frozen in place, not quite sure whether I should run or give him a piece of my mind.

“For everything,” he continued as I was frozen in place.

He ran his hand through his hair looking uncomfortable.

Nathan was immaculately groomed, as usual. Designer pea coat, loafers, scarf, expensive haircut. But his eyes were bloodshot, with lines around them I hadn’t seen before. Same with the bags. There were strands of gray in his hair. He looked older. Much older.

New York, it seemed, was not agreeing with him.

I should’ve felt satisfied with that. He deserved some kind of punishment for being an asshole. But instead I just felt sad.

“I was an asshole.”

“You were,” I agreed, finally finding my voice.

Nathan’s eyes flared with surprise. I braced for that expression to change to anger. Instead, his mouth stretched into a smile.

You could’ve blown me down with a feather.

“You’re happy. With him,” he said.

I nodded.

“He takes care of you.”

I nodded again.

Nathan looked at me for a long time. “I’m happy for you, Nora,” he said softly. “You deserve this.”

Again, with the feather.

“And I’ll take care of my mother,” he continued. “Make sure she doesn’t keep up with her stupid campaign.”

I bit back a smile, wishing I got to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. His mother had indeed tried half assed attempts to ‘make me pay’. I’d had surprise health inspections—which I passed because I kept the bakery clean as hell. There had been all sorts of random delays with shipments, permits. But I’d sorted it all out. What I couldn’t, Rowan did.

It was nothing more than an inconvenience but I would be glad not to deal with it anymore.

“Thank you,” I told Nathan.

He nodded. “Have a good life, Nora,” he said, turning and walking away.

Though I had no secrets from Rowan, I figured that interaction didn’t need to be shared. We had enough going on.

We had arguments about bills, as I expected we would. Rowan had wanted to take over the entire mortgage… I had fought against that. It might’ve turned into a sticking point if he hadn’t relented, realizing what kind of victory it was for me to maintain my house. So, we went halves.

Though, we’d spoken about combining finances once we were married, and I hadn’t argued. Whether it was feminist or not, I agreed with combining finances when you were married. I hadn’t realized just how much money Rowan made until Calliope had spoken about it at Christmas. I told him that he needed a prenup when we got married. He’d responded with, “Cupcake, I’m never fuckin’ letting you go.”

Though that might’ve been a line from anyone else, it was a vow for Rowan.

“If you want me to sign something, make you feel better about the bakery, I will,” he’d offered after that.