Chapter 75

Naomi watches her quietly for a second longer than necessary.

“Hey,” Naomi says gently.

Rowan looks up. “Yeah?”

Naomi tilts her head, curiosity soft but real. “Why did you decide to get into acting?”

The question isn’t loaded. No edge. No trap. Just genuine interest.

Rowan blinks, caught off guard — then lets out a small breath. “That’s random.”

Naomi shrugs lightly. “So are most good questions.”

Rowan stares into her glass for a moment before answering. “I didn’t plan on it,” she admits. “It wasn’t some childhood dream with agents and red carpets.” She smiles faintly. “It started way smaller than that.”

Naomi stays quiet, listening.

“When I was a kid,” Rowan continues, “my house was… loud. Not in a fun way. A lot of arguing. A lot of tension you could feel before anyone even spoke.” Her fingers tighten slightly around the glass. “I learned pretty early how to disappear without actually leaving the room.”

Naomi’s expression softens.

“I’d go into my room and pretend,” Rowan says. “Different lives. Different families. Different versions of myself where things made sense.” She lets out a quiet laugh. “Acting was the only place I could say things out loud without consequences.”

She pauses, swallowing.

“My mom used to sit on the edge of my bed sometimes,” Rowan adds. “On the bad nights. She’d watch me do these little made-up scenes, different voices, different emotions. And she’d smile like—” Rowan shakes her head slightly. “Like for a second, I wasn’t carrying all the weight she couldn’t protect me from.”

Naomi’s chest tightens, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“She was the first one who told me I was good,” Rowan says softly. “Not talented. Not impressive. Just… good. Like it mattered.” She exhales. “She passed before I ever booked anything real. But every time I step on set, it feels like I’m still talking to her.”

Silence settles between them, heavy but tender.

“And now?” Naomi asks gently.

Rowan’s mouth curves into a small, honest smile. “Now it scares me,” she says. “Because it’s not pretend anymore. My career. My image. Who I’m allowed to be.” Her gaze flicks up to Naomi. “Falling for someone on set was not part of the plan.”

Naomi huffs quietly. “Plans are overrated.”

Rowan laughs under her breath. “Yeah. I’m learning that.”

She meets Naomi’s eyes again. “But if I ever walk away from this… I want it to be because I chose myself. Not because I was afraid.”

Naomi nods slowly, deeply understanding. “That’s the right reason.”

Rowan studies her for a moment. “Why’d you ask?”

Naomi lifts her glass again, thoughtful. “Because people usually choose the things that save them first.”

Rowan lets the silence sit for a beat longer, then turns toward Naomi fully. Her expression is softer now, grounded in a way it hadn’t been earlier.

“Thank you,” Rowan says quietly.

Naomi blinks, surprised. “For what?”

Rowan exhales, a small smile tugging at her lips. “For asking.” She gestures lightly between them. “You reminded me of the beginning. Of why I even started doing this in the first place… before it became about press, contracts, expectations.”

Naomi listens, unmoving.

“You didn’t interrupt. You didn’t try to fix it. You didn’t make it about where it could lead,” Rowan continues. Her voice is steady but sincere. “You just let me talk. You actually saw me.”

Naomi’s throat tightens, though she keeps her tone easy. “That should be the bare minimum.”

Rowan shakes her head gently. “It’s not. Not for most people.” She meets Naomi’s eyes. “So thank you for taking the time to hear me without expecting anything in return.”

Naomi holds her gaze for a moment, something unguarded flickering across her face. Then she smiles—warm, genuine.

“Anytime,” she says simply. “That part’s easy.”

Rowan nods, like she believes her.

Naomi stands first, the motion unhurried. She crosses the small space between them and opens her arms without a word—an invitation, not an assumption.

Rowan doesn’t hesitate.

She steps into the hug, folding into Naomi’s chest like her body already knows it’s safe there. Naomi’s arms wrap around her, firm but gentle, one hand settling between Rowan’s shoulder blades, the other resting warm at her side.

“Well,” Naomi murmurs near her ear, voice low and steady, “thank you for telling me.”

Rowan exhales, the tension she’d been holding finally loosening.

Naomi pulls back just enough to look at her, her hands still resting lightly on Rowan’s back. “I’ll listen anytime you need,” she says. No drama. No conditions. Just truth.

Rowan’s lips curve into a small, real smile. She nods once. “I believe you.”

“We should probably get ready to go to Celeste’s place,” she says casually, like it’s the obvious next step.

Rowan looks up from where she’s standing near the window. Something shifts in her expression—not panic, not resistance, just thought. She doesn’t answer right away.

Naomi pauses, reading her. “Unless… you don’t want to.”

Rowan straightens slightly. “I don’t.”

Naomi stills. “Okay.”

Rowan takes a breath, then another, grounding herself. “I don’t want to go to her today.”

Naomi nods once, unsurprised. She leans back against the counter, arms folding loosely. “Then what do you want to do?”

Rowan meets her eyes, resolve settling in. “Invite her here instead.”

Naomi lifts a brow. “Here?”

“Yes.” Rowan steps closer, voice steady now. “Your place. Your space. Somewhere neutral—but grounded.”

Naomi studies her carefully. “And you?”

“I stay,” Rowan says without hesitation.

Naomi’s lips part slightly. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Rowan doesn’t waver. “I am.”

She hesitates just long enough to choose her next words. “But I want you to call her.”

Naomi tilts her head. “Okay.”

“And don’t tell her I’m here.”

That gives Naomi pause.

Rowan continues before she can question it. “Let her come over thinking it’s just you. Let her walk in and see me. Let her be surprised.” A beat. “She doesn’t get to manage this moment.”

Naomi exhales slowly. “You want her unguarded.”

“I want her honest,” Rowan corrects gently. “If she knows I’m here, she’ll armor up. Rehearse. Deflect.”

Naomi’s gaze sharpens—not with fear, but respect. “You’re right.”

She reaches for her phone.

“You’re cold,” Naomi says lightly.

Rowan snorts. “No. I’m tired.”

Naomi nods like that explains everything. She unlocks her phone, thumb hovering over Celeste’s name.

“Any rules?” Naomi asks.

Rowan thinks for a second. “Yeah. Don’t soften it for her. And don’t protect me.”

Naomi’s expression shifts—serious now. “I wouldn’t.”

Rowan exhales. “Okay.”

Naomi steps a few feet away to make the call. Rowan stays where she is, heart thudding but posture calm.

The phone rings.

Once.

Twice.

“Hey,” Celeste’s voice answers, tentative. “Naomi?”

Naomi keeps her tone even. “Hey. What’re you doing right now?”

A pause. “Nothing. I was about to head home.”

“Good,” Naomi says. “Come over.”

Another pause. Longer. “Now?”

“If you can,” Naomi replies. “I think it’d be good for you.”

Silence.

“Is everything okay?” Celeste asks.

Naomi glances briefly at Rowan—just a flicker—then back to the phone. “Yeah. Everything’s… waiting.”

Celeste exhales. “Okay. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Drive safe,” Naomi says.

She hangs up.

For a moment, neither of them speaks.

Rowan finally lets out a breath. “Well.”

Naomi turns to her. “You good?”

“Terrified,” Rowan admits. “But good.”

Naomi steps closer—not touching, just present. “Once she sees you, there’s no way around it.”

Rowan lifts her chin. “That’s the point.”

Naomi studies her, then nods. “Alright.” A faint smile. “Let’s make some tea. Or pour a drink. Or both.”

Rowan huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re very calm for someone about to host emotional chaos.”

Naomi’s smile turns knowing. “Occupational hazard.”