Chapter 39

The food was perfect Celeste’s roasted salmon with lemon and herbs, paired with roasted vegetables and a bottle of wine she had been saving for months. Rowan had insisted on helping serve, but Celeste had shooed her out of the kitchen with a playful glare.

Now they sat across from one another, candles flickering between them, their laughter floating through the air every so often as if they’d known each other for years instead of weeks.

Rowan twirled her fork slowly, leaning back in her chair as her eyes settled on Celeste. “Okay,” she said, her voice light but curious. “We’ve danced around it long enough. Tell me what’s your deal with relationships? What kind of exes does a woman like you leave behind?”

Celeste arched a brow, cutting into her salmon before answering. “Exes?” She smirked faintly. “I don’t usually talk about them. That’s why the NDA comment exists in the first place.”

Rowan laughed softly, shaking her head. “So it’s true, huh? You really had people sign them?”

Celeste gave a tiny shrug, sipping her wine before she continued. “Yes. Not all, but… enough. When you’re in the spotlight, people don’t always love you for you. They love the access, the idea, the lifestyle. And when it ends… sometimes they want to tell their version of the story. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

Rowan’s smirk faded into something more thoughtful. “That sounds… lonely.”

Celeste’s fork stilled on her plate. She hesitated before nodding slowly. “It was. It is. That’s why I keep the mask on most of the time. It’s easier that way.” Her eyes lifted, meeting Rowan’s with a rawness that made her chest tighten. “But with you… I don’t feel like I need it.”

For a moment, the air between them softened, heavier, more real.

Rowan broke the silence with a small smile, her tone turning lighter again. “Well, you’ve got me curious. What kind of chaos did your exes bring into your life?”

Celeste smirked faintly. “Mostly jealousy. A few wanted to control me, others just wanted the perks. None of them actually… saw me.”

Rowan reached across the table, brushing her fingers over Celeste’s hand. “Their loss.”

Celeste tilted her head, her smirk returning. “What about you? What skeletons are in your closet?”

Rowan leaned back with a dramatic sigh, pretending to think. “Let’s see… I’ve dated a musician, a photographer, and one guy who thought he was a philosopher but couldn’t even pay his rent on time.” She grinned, rolling her eyes. “None of them could keep up with me. And honestly? None of them ever made me feel… grounded.”

Celeste’s brow rose. “Grounded?”

Rowan nodded, her gaze softening. “Yeah. Safe. Seen. Like I could be messy and vulnerable and not have to apologize for it.” She paused, her voice dropping. “It’s funny. I didn’t expect to find that here, with you. But I feel it.”

Celeste’s lips parted slightly, her chest tightening with something she couldn’t quite name. She squeezed Rowan’s hand gently, her voice low. “Careful, Rowan. Keep talking like that and I’ll never let you go.”

Rowan smirked, though her eyes betrayed the seriousness beneath it. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

After dinner, they drifted into the living room with their glasses of wine. The soft glow of the string lights Celeste had hung up painted the room in warm gold. They curled up on the couch together, Rowan pulling her legs up underneath her as she turned to face Celeste.

“So…” Rowan started, her voice softer now, not playful, not teasing just curious. “Do you ever think about marriage? Like, do you want it?”

Celeste froze for a second, her thumb circling the rim of her wine glass. She let out a small laugh, but it was hollow, carrying weight behind it. “You know… no one’s ever asked me that without it feeling like a trap.” She shifted slightly, looking down into her glass. “Everyone I’ve dated — they saw me as something shiny. Something to play with. A trophy. A fantasy. A toy.” Her voice dipped lower. “Never… a partner. Never someone they wanted to build a life with. So marriage? It never felt like something I’d get in this life.”

Rowan’s chest ached at the way Celeste’s voice cracked just slightly on the last word. She set her glass down and reached for Celeste’s hand, threading their fingers together. “Hey,” she said softly, waiting until Celeste finally looked at her. “I hear you. And I get it.”

Celeste’s brows furrowed. “You do?”

Rowan nodded. “Yeah. My past wasn’t glitzy, but it had the same theme. I dated people who wanted a version of me. The ‘fun Rowan.’ The one who could be reckless, sexy, unpredictable. But the second I needed stability or support, they disappeared. None of them wanted to see the parts of me that weren’t perfect.” She squeezed Celeste’s hand a little tighter. “So marriage? I never thought it was for me either. Not because I didn’t want it — but because I didn’t trust anyone enough to picture it.”

Celeste’s chest rose and fell slowly, her eyes glinting in the soft light. “So… what about now?” she asked carefully.

Rowan smiled faintly, her thumb stroking over Celeste’s hand. “Now?” She leaned in just slightly. “Now, for the first time, I think maybe it’s possible. Not tomorrow. Not next year. But… maybe one day. With the right person.”

Celeste blinked, stunned into silence, her throat too tight for words. Rowan leaned a little closer, her smile soft but certain. “And don’t look at me like that I didn’t say who.”

Celeste finally let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she took another sip of wine to steady herself. But her eyes betrayed her because for the first time in a long time, the thought of forever didn’t feel impossible.

The room settled into a quiet warmth after their confessions, the kind of silence that wasn’t heavy but rather full of possibility. Celeste leaned back into the couch, still holding Rowan’s hand, their fingers tangled like neither of them had any intention of letting go.

Rowan tilted her head, studying her with a smile that was both soft and mischievous. “You know, for someone who says she never thought about marriage, you give off serious wife energy.”

Celeste snorted, nearly choking on her wine. “Wife energy? What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means,” Rowan said, tugging gently on her hand, “you set up lights, cooked me dinner, poured me wine, and made me feel like I was the only person in the world tonight. That’s wife energy, baby.”

Celeste’s cheeks flushed, her lips twitching like she was trying not to smile too hard. “Or maybe I just know how to set the mood.”

Rowan leaned closer, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, but I think it’s more than that.”

For a moment, neither of them looked away. Celeste’s heart beat harder in her chest, and she forced herself to glance down, trying to hide the way Rowan’s words had hit deeper than she wanted to admit.

To break the tension, Celeste asked, “What about you, huh? If you ever did get married… what would it look like? Big wedding? Small? Vegas chapel with Elvis officiating?”

Rowan laughed, the sound filling the space like music. “Definitely not Elvis. Honestly? I think something small. Just the people who matter, nothing over the top. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere that feels like us.” She paused, her voice dipping lower. “I never cared about the dress or the party. I just… always hoped if it ever happened, it’d be with someone who really saw me. All of me.”

Celeste looked at her for a long moment, her chest tightening again. She wanted to say something — wanted to tell Rowan that she already did see her, and that was the terrifying, exhilarating part. But the words stuck in her throat.

So instead, she lifted Rowan’s hand to her lips and kissed the back of it softly. “Then you deserve that. Every part of it.”

Rowan’s eyes softened, and for the first time that night, Celeste felt the mask she always wore slip entirely away.