Rowan

“What are you doing here?” The second I step off my elevator, I find Hunter standing in front of my apartment door, a bouquet of flowers wrapped in brown paper tucked under one arm.

“I was hoping we could talk for a second?”

He moves aside and I slip my key into the lock. All I wanted was to come home and throw some clothes in the wash and call Spencer to turn down the job. The last thing I expected was to come home to … this.

Opening the door, I turn to him. “There’s really nothing for us to talk about.”

“I tried to be coldhearted,” he says, ignoring me. “I tried to move on, to tell myself my feelings for you meant nothing, that what we had was casual. Every time I was with Mary Kate, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to be with you instead.”

Placing my hand over my heart, I shake my head in feigned sympathy. “You poor thing. Must have been awful.”

“Rowan, I’m being serious here.” His dark brows meet.

“I’m really busy. I can’t do this.” I step inside my apartment, turning to close the door, but he pushes past, letting himself in. “Okay, you can’t do that.”

“Two minutes,” he says, green eyes dull and weary. He looks like shit, bags under his eyes and the faint stench of alcohol wafting from his breath. Looks like he hasn’t run a comb through his hair in over twenty-four hours.

“Why should I give you two minutes of my time?” I rest my hands on my hips. “You’re standing here feeling sorry for yourself and quite frankly, I couldn’t care less. You did this. You caused your own pain. You let me go. You walked away from what we had. And because of that, I’ve moved on. I’ve fallen in love with someone new. I’m over you, over us. I don’t even think about you anymore, Hunter. In fact, I’m starting to forget why it was I was so crazy for you in the first place.”

“You don’t love him,” he says, lips pressed flat as he forces a hard breath through his nose. “Let me guess, he’s been so good to you, everything you could ask for? The perfect boyfriend? Waiting hand and foot and making you think you’re the most incredible woman he’s ever known?”

Yes …

“Guess what, Row?” he says, half laughing. “The asshole is using you.”

“Using me for what?” I laugh. His accusation is preposterous.

“His senate campaign. What else?”

Taking a step back, I narrow my gaze and shake my head.

Keir hasn’t mentioned a single word about a campaign. He would’ve said something. That’s not the kind of thing you casually forget to mention.

“Why do you think that man whore is suddenly so reformed? So interested in you, Rowan? Your parents were one of the biggest private donors to the Montgomerys’ last two presidential campaigns. An endorsement from them would give him a huge advantage. Not to mention, he needs a pretty little thing by his side to make people forget all about his philandering past.”

I don’t want to believe Hunter.

But his allegations make sense …

“You’re lying,” I say.

“Here.” Hunter pulls his phone from his back pocket, tapping the screen with quick precision before handing it over. “Read this.”

The browser lands on a Washington Post article.

The headline knocks the wind out of me.

KEIR MONTGOMERY TO RUN FOR SENATE IN MARYLAND’S 29^TH DISTRICT

I don’t need to read the article. The headline tells me everything I need to know … except for the reason he’d keep this from me.

“I don’t understand …” My voice tapers.

“What don’t you understand?” Hunter wears a satisfied smirk, yet there’s still a hint of desperation in his tone. “He used you. He lied to you. He doesn’t care about you, Rowan. He’s only pretending to.”

My eyes burn.

This morning I was so sure I was making the right decision, so convinced we had something special, meaningful.

“You need to leave,” I say.

I need to be alone. I need to wrap my head around all of this, figure out what it means.

“Rowan—”

Marching to the door, I yank it open. Hunter hesitates for a moment before finally walking toward the hall.

“If you need me,” he says. “You have my number. I’m here for you, Row. And I always will be.”

Slamming the door in his face, I secure the locks before spreading myself across the sofa. Staring at the ceiling, I replay our entire relationship from the moment we met at Goldsmith to this morning, when he wrapped me in his arms and told me how happy he was that I chose him.

It felt so real.

And I don’t want to believe Hunter, but what he says makes sense when I think about how quickly everything happened with Keir, how he didn’t budge or flinch no matter how crazy or clingy I got.

It all makes sense now.

He pretended it didn’t bother him because he needed to keep it going.

He was using me all along.

It was all an act, a ploy.

Love had nothing to do with it.