He owed it to me to respect my privacy. That was what I told myself when I glanced up from my sketchbook and saw him walk into the coffee shop. I was tempted to slide out of the booth and leave, but I got here first. His eyes found mine quickly, as if he’d heard my thoughts from way over there. My heart skittered at the look he gave me, raw and heated as it stilled the breath in my lungs until he finally looked away and toward the girl behind the counter. Jenny, the barista, was already flirting with him. I wasn’t even sure he realized it; his face was stoic. She was cute. Cuter than Camryn. Nicer than Camryn. If I had come home and found out he was dating a girl like her, it wouldn’t have bothered me . . . much.

I looked at my sketchbook and sighed, ripping out the page and starting over. In my periphery, I tracked his approach. I kept my eyes on the sketchbook, trying not to react at the scent of his cologne. He’d worn my favorite one, and Rowan wasn’t the kind of man who left things up to coincidences, so that alone made me think he knew he’d run into me today. He took the seat across from me and sat in silence, but I could feel his eyes on mine as I sketched.

Some people are shy about their art. I never understood that. My sister was like that. She hid her writing and poetry until she landed an agent. I didn’t bother to hide my sketches. Art was something meant to be seen, to be read, to be felt. It didn’t have to be great, it just had to carry emotion. Rowan picked up my discarded paper and examined it.

“What’s wrong with this one?”

My hand paused on the sketch I was working on, but I didn’t look up. “Wasn’t feeling it.”

“Why’d you rip it out of your notebook?”

I shrugged. “I don’t like looking at my mistakes.”

“You should learn from your mistakes.”

I lifted my eyes to his. “I like to move past them.”

“By ignoring them?” he said, lifting the to-go cup to his mouth. I swallowed as if I was the one taking a drink, shrugged again, and tore my eyes from his. Turning away was hard, but I did it, dropping my eyes to the sketch in front of me, the one I hadn’t fucked up yet. I wasn’t going to get into this argument in the middle of the coffee shop. This was my safe zone. He shouldn’t be here.

“This is good, Tess. Really good.”

My heart glowed with his praise. Stupid organ. “Thanks.”

“I’m serious.” His mouth was slightly parted, and his attention was still on the paper of the dress I was drawing when I dared to let my eyes find his again. “I’m impressed.”

“I can tell.” I laughed, felt myself blush. “Thank you.”

“Is this your own design or are you practicing from someone else’s?”

“My own.”

His brows lifted. “Who’d you get an internship with?”

“Apprenticeship,” I corrected. “And I never said I got one.” I couldn’t bite back my smile as I said the words. Rowan grinned that knowing grin of his that made my heart flutter. I tried to contain myself so it wouldn’t affect me. It didn’t work.

“Talent like this doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Talent goes unnoticed all the time. People walk right by it at subway stations or hang it on their fridge and never give it a second glance. Talent is probably the second most overlooked thing in this world.”

“What’s the first?”

“Love.”

Obviously, things like that weren’t always apparent to him. He looked away, uncomfortable. The word alone made him so, which set off a slow-building and unwanted mix of sadness and anger inside me. The way he was raised did that to him, I got that, but what made me angry was that he hadn’t snapped out of it. Sam was the same. They were both ridiculously good-looking men who had both money and power but didn’t have a fucking clue how to accept something so many were willing to give so freely. He cleared his throat and looked at me again.

“So? Apprenticeship?”

“I was offered two. One in New York and one in Paris.”

His brows hiked up. “Paris?”

“I know.” I smiled sadly.

“You aren’t going to take that one?” He leaned forward on his elbows. “Why do you keep doing that to yourself? Why do you keep flapping those incredible wings of yours like they’ve been clipped? Why won’t you let yourself soar?”

Anger seared through me. How dare he appear out of the blue and decide he can make claims he doesn’t know a thing about? I lifted my chin. “Why don’t you mind your own business and go build your empire with your Stepford wife?”

“She isn’t my wife, nor will she ever be.”

“You always say things like that right before you run back to her.”

He shot me a glare that made me want to cower. “What happened to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You used to be . . . I don’t know . . . cordial with me.”

“I was going to try to be cordial with you again, but then you kissed me.”

His smile was slow, wolfish. “You liked it.”

I dropped the pencil, picked it back up, and continued shading. I wouldn’t allow him to drag me down that place with him again, the one where we flirted and kissed and frolicked around town holding hands. Rowan was well versed in the art of having women fall in love with him and leaving them behind. I saw him do it time and time again. I wasn’t sure why I ever thought I would be different.

“Why are you so upset?” he asked.

“Your parents convinced mine to sell them their company,” I said quietly. “They knew it was all they had, and still they went after them until they couldn’t say anything but yes. You Hawthorns don’t know how to take no for an answer.”

“That isn’t true.”

I cocked my head. “Really?”

“No one ever says no. There’s a difference.”

“Stop veering off topic. My point is that we sold our family business, the one thing we’ve had passed down from generation to generation. Then, once it was out of our hands, it ripped my parents apart.”

“And, somehow, this is my fault?”

“You knew what was happening, and you didn’t even think to warn me.” He gave a nod, and took a sip of coffee as I continued on because the way he was looking at me pissed me off. “All you needed to do was pick up the phone and give me a heads-up. Unless you didn’t know?”

“No,” he said. I started to let out a relieved breath. If he didn’t know there was no foul. “I knew. I just didn’t want to tell you.”

My chest squeezed. I gripped my pencil a little tighter. If it didn’t snap, I wouldn’t either. Solidarity and all that shit.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes for good measure and stared as I waited for him to continue. He had an amused look on his face, that little twinkle in his eyes that never let up. When he finally spoke, I found myself leaning in a little closer.

“My dad didn’t go to yours about buying his company.”

“He bought us all out.” My voice lifted with my hand as I pointed outside. “He bought all the factories within a fifty-mile radius.”

“He didn’t want to buy yours. He knew how much it meant to you guys. Even if he had, Mom wouldn’t have let him.”

“Right.” I scoffed. “Because they’re so fucking caring.”

“Maybe not with us,” he said. “But they look after their friends. They respect your parents.”

I thought about just how much his mother respected me. “Don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here waiting for an explanation.”

“Your parents sold to us so they could pay for your school. The business wasn’t doing well. Dad tried to talk them out of it, and when he couldn’t, he gave them more than it was worth.”

His words shot through me like a tsunami. I uncrossed my arms and let my hands sit on my lap, studying the way they shook slightly. Rowan was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. Then again, I’d never known my parents to be liars. My siblings. My grandmother. How many people were in on this? How many of them looked at me and saw the reason our family was split apart? I swallowed past the lump in my throat and then swallowed again when it tried to come back up.

“Does Sam know?”

His jaw clenched. It took me a second to remember that I’d made him think I was dating his brother. If he were truly my boyfriend, I probably would have already known that answer. Nevertheless, it all seemed too small and insignificant—the fake relationship, the running away from him all this time, the anger. And yet, it was what I’d settled on, and once I did something, I didn’t undo it. I didn’t know how.

“I don’t know if Sam knows.”

“Thanks for telling me. I have to go.” I slid out of the booth and gathered my things. He waved the ripped-out page.

“Sure you don’t want to keep this one?”

“Positive.”

Once I ripped something out, I never took it back. But I hadn’t ripped him out of my life, had I?