Our mini-work vacation was up. We rode back home in mostly silence. It helped that Tessa was asleep half the time. It helped because it gave me time to think. To compartmentalize. To figuratively bash my head against the steering wheel as I drove while stealing glances of her sleeping form, the way I had done the last two nights. Like a creeper, basically. The deal was that I was freaking out. I never freaked out. Ever. I was calm, cool, collected. I did not bleed, for God’s sake. I wasn’t about to start. I took a breath and kept my eyes on the road. I didn’t like feeling off-kilter. I’d felt it before, sure. Tessa seemed to be at the center of things every time I felt this way. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, but I didn’t know how to handle it. And honestly, as far as things went, this was horrific timing for me to try to even fathom bleeding. I shook the thought away. I really needed to stop thinking about blood like I was a fucking vampire or something.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” Her voice startled me.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You?” She scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Where do you see me in five years?”

She tilted her head slightly, her lips pursing in a way that made me want to reach over and kiss her senseless. I looked back at the road ahead. Focus, Rowan. Focus.

“You’ll be CEO of Hawthorne. You’ll definitely have another location since you barely fit in the current one, maybe in New York? It’s close enough, and it really is considered one of the fashion capitals of the world.”

I shook my head, smiling. “Paris is still number one.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re going to pick up and move to Paris.”

“We have a headquarters in London.”

“That’s right,” she said, as if the memory was coming back to her. “Your mom’s. Is it still running?”

“It will be. Soon enough.”

“Will you take over that as well?”

“I’ll have to.”

“Wow. Was that already in the works or is it also because of the divorce?”

“Yeah. They want to give me the company,” I said. My heart clenched as if bracing for impact. “I guess the divorce isn’t good for business.”

“Not with the brand they’ve built.” She rolled her eyes, smiling. She was right. My parents built this whole family-run company with the concept and selling point that family is the thread that holds people together. Cheesy and obviously unfit for us. 

“They want me to get married.”

She looked stricken. "To whom?”

“Anyone. I don’t think they really care.” Heat traveled down my spine. I scratched the back of my neck. “I mean, they care because there are a lot of specifics.”

“Get married for what?”

“The family thing,” I said. “You know.”

“Wow.” She blinked and then opened her eyes wide. “You’re serious.”

“Unfortunately.”

“You don’t even believe in love. How are you supposed to believe in marriage?”

“I don’t have to believe in love or marriage. I just have to do it.” I felt my jaw twitch and rubbed it, hoping the action would take away some of the ache I was feeling, but the ache was everywhere, in my jaw, the center of my chest, burning me from the inside out. I wasn’t sure there was any solution to that, and seeing the way Tessa was reacting to this news wasn’t making it any better.

“How?” She blinked a few times, as if trying to see me better. “I just . . . how?"

“It’s a contract. I’d sign it like every other contract I sign, with the knowledge that I can always get out of it.”

She folded her arms in front of her and looked out the window. We were two blocks away from her house, so I didn’t push it. I didn’t know what I would say to her anyway.