Chapter 4; He's back?

Page exited the Greencoves headquarters building, She smiled, it was such a nice day. The weekly meeting for the Directors of Greencoves Conglomerate had just ended and it went rather smoothly with everyone unanimously supporting her proposal.

Satisfied, Page was leaving the building for her appointment at her dance class- one of her hobbies. As she approached her car, the security man at the entrance wished her well.

“Have a great day, Ms. Brooks!”

“Thank you, John,” she replied warmly. “You too”

Page slipped into her car, still smiling. As she reached for her wallet to give John a tip, her fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. She pulled out her wedding ring, its surface catching the sunlight. Memories rushed back—Rowan’s departure, the endless days of waiting, and the eventual realization that he wasn’t coming back.

Page had stopped waiting for him after three months and had taken off her ring after seven. There was no point in wearing a useless symbol, she had told herself. It had almost been a year since Rowan had left, their anniversary was coming up soon now that she thought about it.

She sighed deeply put the ring back in her wallet and brought out The money to give the security man. Starting the car, she drove off

A short while later, she arrived at the dance center, a place that had become a haven for her. The head dancer, Joanne, greeted her with a friendly smile.

“Page! Good to see you again.”

“Good to see you too, Clara,” Page responded, feeling her spirits lifted just by being in the room.

She stretched and joined the group, feeling relaxed already.

For a while, the dance took her mind off everything. The worries, the past, and the uncertainties faded away, replaced by the joy of movement.

Time flew right by. She checked her phone, realizing that it was seven pm. Page packed up and headed straight home. The cozy house that Mr. Cannon had given her and Rowan to use, which Rowan had left her in, was now a place that felt like hers. She took over the master bedroom and used one of the guest rooms as her art studio. She did some refurbishing and repainting. The place was to her taste exactly.

Driving into the pavement, Page parked her car and entered her house. She flicked on the light, and her heart nearly stopped when she saw a figure on the couch.

“AH!” She screamed, ready to defend herself. Then she paused, recognizing the person. It was Rowan sitting on the couch, waiting for her.

She screamed louder, dropping her keys, being more surprised to see him here than a robber. “Rowan?”

Rowan stood up slowly, his eyes locking onto hers. “Page.”

She stared at him, her mind racing. “What are you doing here?”

Rowan said nothing more. He stared at her for a minute more before finally opening his mouth to talk. “You took over the master bedroom.”

Page stared at him, surprised. “So this is the first conversation you want to have after appearing in my house so suddenly?”

“Our house.” Rowan corrected.

“I’m sorry, have you stayed here longer than two days before?” She took a jab at him. “Then it’s not our house. You don’t live here.”

“I do now,” Rowan said calmly.

“...What?” she said, confused. “What do you mean now?”

Rowan said nothing. He just turned around and walked up the stairs. “I’m going to sleep in the other room,” he said once he got to the top, disappearing into the hallway.

Page stood frozen in the entryway, her mind spinning with disbelief. Without a word, she rushed back outside, her heart pounding. Looking well now, she was realizing the sleek black car parked out on the street in front of her house must be Rowan's. Fumbling with her phone, she quickly dialed her grandfather’s number.

“Granddad,” she said, breathless and panicking. “Rowan is back.”

There was a brief silence on the other end before her grandfather's voice boomed with joy. “That’s wonderful news, Page! I’m so happy to hear that.”

Page, however, couldn’t share in his happiness. She leaned against the car, trying to steady her racing heart. “I don’t know, Granddad. Why is he here? Is someone dying?”

“Not,” her granddad said.

“I’m not happy about this. I’m panicking. I don’t know what to do,” she replied in a panicked tone.

“Just breathe, Page,” he soothed. “Give him a chance to explain. Maybe this is the start of something new for both of you.”

After hanging up, Page took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She tried to be rational. “Rowan might only be staying for a short time and would probably leave again soon,” she said to herself. The thought brought a sliver of comfort, and she composed herself enough to go back inside.

Page went in to meet everywhere quiet. Rowan had gone into his room. She sighed. With him there, it felt like she was back to living peacefully alone. She went to the kitchen and opened the fridge to see if she could make anything from whatever was left in the fridge that she had been forgetting to restock.

She closed it had some bread and went to bed.

—

The next morning, she woke up. The place was just as quiet as she liked. She checked out the window to see Rowan's black car gone from the street.

“Yes!” she screamed, “he’s gone.” But for a moment, her smile faded. The idea of him coming back and leaving without as much as a note for her was sad. He had only said about four sentences to her yesterday.

Page shook her head. “Good riddance,” she said, forcing a smile on her face.

She headed to work and came back in the early evening to find the sleek black car in her garage, she panicked, noticing the lights in the house on.

“Rowan is still here?” she yelled to herself. She had hoped he left this morning. “Did he leave and come back?”

Page stormed back into the house, her confusion quickly turning into anger. She marched up to Rowan, who was still standing by the couch looking at his phone, and demanded, “What are you still doing here? Why aren’t you on another business trip right now?”

Rowan met her gaze calmly. He said nothing and just stared at her. Then he replied, “No more trips,” he said, taking a sip of his beer through the bottle.

“What?” Page said, confused.

Rowan sighed, taking another sip before talking again. “I live here now.”

Page’s eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean you’re staying here?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “I’m here to stay.”

She felt the ground shift beneath her, her mind racing with questions and emotions she couldn’t yet name. “But why? Why now?”

Rowan took a deep breath as if bracing himself. He was about to say something, but then his shoulders dropped and he relaxed. “I can do whatever I want.” He got up from the couch and headed up again, most likely to his room.

—

Page woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly energized despite everything that was happening. Today was an important day—the Freeheight Art Gallery’s yearly display.

She jumped out of bed, freshened up quickly, and slipped into her clothes, having taken a day off work for this event. The anticipation of immersing herself in art filled her with excitement and temporarily pushed aside her worries about Rowan's sudden return.

Arriving at the gallery, Page felt a wave of exhilaration as she stepped inside. The gallery was buzzing with activity, patrons admiring the vast array of artworks. She wandered through the exhibits and marveled at the creativity on display.

A young man with blond hair, wearing a stylish hoodie and earphones around his neck, approached. He stood next to her, gazing at the artwork with a puzzled expression.

“I just don’t get this one,” he said out loud to himself, shaking his head slightly at the canvas in front of them full of blocks of colors.

Page turned to him with a friendly smile. “It’s abstract, but if you look closely, you can see the layers of emotion the artist is trying to convey. The colors represent different states of mind, blending to show how our feelings can be complex and intertwined.”

The young man looked at the painting again, curiosity in his eyes. “Oh, I see what you mean. That’s interesting. And how did you know all this? Surely not just by looking at it,” he jested as he laughed. Page laughed impulsively too.

Page raised a small book in her hand; it seemed to have information on every artwork. “They were selling it at the front door.”

“Oh wow,” he said with a smile. “Now I feel dumb.”

“Don’t,” Page said back.

The man stared at her for a moment, then broke eye contact, breaking into a shy smile. “But should a painting not be able to speak for itself? If I need a book to understand it, then it doesn’t feel like art anymore…” he paused.

“The art is in the expression after all,” Page said, completing his statement. He smiled at her.

“I agree with you. This event has been a letdown on pure creativity.”

He looked at her, surprised at how blunt she was, then burst out laughing, almost causing a scene. “I have to have your number,” he said with a smile. “It would be a shame if I let you go like this.”

“You can’t have it,” Page said, shaking her head. She felt there was no need for such. “But you can have my name,” she said.

The man let down his hand, disappointment filling his face, he forced a smile “I will take what I can get.”

“Page.” She said.

“What a beautiful name” he smiled “I am Will.”

“Nice meeting you,” she said as she placed the brochure in his hand and turned to leave. “I should be going now.” She waved to the man she just met before turning and taking off, unaware of how mesmerized Will was by her.

Will watched as she left, his gaze fixed on her and the interesting way she walked in the heels she had on the day. He placed his hand on his chest.

—

Page got home, the lights were off again. She sighed, “I just don’t know how to predict this man,” she said out loud, now having time to think about all this. Hungry, she dropped her bag and went straight for the fridge for her routine of checking as if it would magically fill itself. Only it was full.

Page jumped back, surprised. The lights flickered on and Page turned around to see Rowan at the dining table, with a full-course meal served in front of him, for two people.

“What’s going on?” Page said, feeling very worried.

“Good evening,” Rowan said with his usual tone but with a smile this time. “I thought we could eat together. Would you like to sit down?” He gave a big smile, staring at Page like she had been the love of his life.

She clutched her phone, wondering if he was having a stroke. After one whole year, just why is he suddenly deciding to come back to California and do all this for her?

—

Will Garrett sat at his desk in his sky-view office, fiddling with the museum brochure he had gotten from Page, the woman he had just met today but was finding it hard to get out of his head. Her smile, her laugh—it was all replaying in his head.

Just then, his phone rang, bringing him back to reality. He picked it up and smiled once he saw who was calling. “Hey, Rowan. Oh, you’re back in town now, that’s great!”

“How are you doing?” Rowan asked Will over the phone. “I’m suffering in this house with my horrible ungrateful wife. I made dinner and she screamed and ran up to her room.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Will said, smiling as he looked at the museum brochure that was still on his desk, remembering Page. “For me, I met a woman today. And I’m already in love.”