The saleslady gave a sniff of triumph in Savannah's direction, and with Rowan's mind made up, Savannah fell silent. The girl had money to burn; she simply feared she was burning through it too fast. Not that Rowan necessarily had anything to worry about-the Dugas clan would collapse in shame if she ever had to work a day in her life, apparently. In a few years, Savannah's own trust fund would kick in, and maybe then she could entertain the notion of spending hundreds of dollars on a pair of shoes she might not be able to wear in a few months. But right now she was financially comfortable and independent mainly because she was frugal.
Frugal or not, though, she did need a hot dress for tonight. And Rowan had an eye like a hawk for hot dresses.
"What are we looking for?" Rowan asked later in Neiman Marcus, coming up behind Savannah when she thought she'd lost her at the Kate Spade handbags for a few minutes.
Startled and a little guilty, she replaced the bright pink sleeveless A-line she'd been examining and turned away. "Oh, nothing."
"What's wrong? That would look great on you, you know. With your dark hair and mile-long legs? Please. You should try it on."
She did like it. Bright colors had never really been her thing, but it was sexy and flirty, and since she had no clue where Mike was planning to take her tonight, she didn't want to go overboard. Rowan snatched it back off the rack and thrust it at her. "I insist. Put it on. I want to hate you just a little bit more."
"Shut up," Savannah scoffed, taking it and holding it up to her body. Yes, it would definitely show a lot of leg. Mike would like that. Hell, she hadn't brought any decent shoes to wear with it. Too bad I can't borrow Rowan's new sandals, she thought with a smirk. The two of them were within half a shoe size of each other and frequently traded when possible, but . . . yeah. That would be too much.
"I think we should get facials too. Wouldn't that be fun?"
All at once, at one innocent suggestion, her mind overrode her sex organs and it occurred to her what a horrible person-sister, friend, family member-she was being. Rowan didn't deserve this. But she was doing well; it was a good day. How could Savannah ruin it for her by telling her where she was going tonight?
Would it ruin it? Maybe Rowan had garnered a modicum of goodwill toward Mike after he'd made this trip possible for her. Miracles happened, right?
While she was wondering, Rowan propelled her toward the fitting rooms and Savannah mechanically undressed and slipped into the slinky pink number, surveying her reflection critically. As usual, the girl had been right-it showed the perfect amount of leg and heightened a glow she hadn't realized she possessed. Of course, Michael might have put that glow there last night. With every movement, she could still feel him inside her, a fullness just on the pleasure side of pain.
Oh, God. Leaning her forehead against the mirror, she sucked in a series of calming breaths and tried to get a grip on her racing thoughts.
She'd never been a deceptive person. Never. Keeping secrets from the people closest to her simply wasn't an option she'd ever had to consider, and in relationships it would've been a deal breaker. But then, she'd never had a secret like this, one that could hurt so many people. Rowan wouldn't understand. She wouldn't-
A knock pounded on the door. "Are you all right in there? Does it not fit? You need a size down, right? Because I hate you."
She jumped away from the mirror as Rowan's voice filtered through, her mouth speaking out on its own. "I'm having dinner tonight with Mike Larson."
Maybe it had been the ease of saying it without having to look Rowan in the face. Or maybe she'd lost her fucking mind. But the reason didn't matter. Silence, complete and absolute and terrible, met the announcement.
"Rowan?" Please, please, please . . .
"You don't have to, you know. Don't think you have to do something to thank him for this weekend on my behalf."
What? "It isn't like that at all. That isn't what I'm doing. He's taking me out, not the other way around."
"It's only that . . . that's a dress I could see lying in a puddle on the floor come morning."
God, she thought even less of him than Savannah had thought. "I promise, it isn't about that."
"Okay. So you like him?"
Savannah forced herself to stare her reflection in the face, in the eyes, as she said, "Yes. I like him a lot."
"I could already tell." Rowan sighed. "I'm going to trust you know what you're doing."
Did any of them know? Really? All they could do was make decisions based on the information they had at hand, and hope for the best. But the relief, oh, sweet Jesus, the relief at knowing Rowan didn't hate her . . . at least, not yet. She closed her eyes, savoring it. "Thank you."
"Where is he taking you?"
"I don't know."
"Well . . . Let me see the dress on you, at least."
With sore, burning eyes, Savannah unlatched the dressing room door and pulled it open to face Rowan's critical analysis. "I love it," she proclaimed at last, meeting Savannah's eyes with a smile. A tremulous one, not an overly happy one, but a smile all the same.
"Me too."
"In fact I love it a little too much. Are you sure we shouldn't find you something that covers you from neck to ankle?"
Savannah chuckled. "I don't think that'll be necessary."
For the rest of the day, Rowan seemed a little quieter, a little more introspective, but she insisted on helping Savannah pick out the right pair of shoes and the right shade of nail polish for her fingers and toes when they went for their mani-pedis. The only time Mike came up again was when they were on their way back to the hotel and Rowan leaned close, saying, "What about your parents?"
Savannah waved a hand. "Honestly, I don't think there will ever be any need for them to know . . . unless you tell them." And hell, at this point, who was she to judge if Rowan wanted them to know? "Besides, I don't even know why I'm doing this. I realize it's a dead end. I do."
"Then . . . why? You say you don't know, but maybe you ought to figure it out. Maybe you at least should look him up. I have. You might not like what you find."
Mike had hinted as much himself, and the thought started a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of Savannah's stomach. Why would she want to see him through the lens of the press, or his detractors, or the people who outright hated him? None of those people knew him. Hell, she didn't know him, but the person she was slowly becoming acquainted with didn't seem to deserve the hand he'd been dealt.
It only made her look forward to seeing him all the more, even knowing there was a Pandora's box of horrific things in his past. As far as she was concerned, it could remain closed.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," Savannah told her gently. "But I don't think the way he's being treated is fair, Ro, and I had as much reason to hate him as anyone, don't you think? Tommy was my brother. He was your husband, I get it, but I grew up with him. We played in the sandbox together. He taught me to climb trees and ride a bike, to swim, and to swing a bat when other kids made fun of me for not knowing what I was doing. I don't say this to minimize what you're feeling, only to assure you that if there were any part of me that blames Mike for taking him from us, I would have nothing to do with him, Rowan. Nothing. I hope you believe that."
"Maybe you should watch the last few seconds of that fight. I know you looked away." For the first time today, true bitterness crept into Rowan's voice.
Savannah threw her hands up. "Why? Why would I want to see that?"
"Tommy was done. He was on the mat. The ref called it. Mike hit him again." It was spoken as if Savannah were an uncomprehending four-year-old.
"You don't know if that was the blow that did it, and even if it was, was he already midswing? Could he have stopped? If the ref had called it half a second earlier, would Tommy be alive today? If that's the case, then why don't you blame the ref?"
Rowan considered that in silence for a moment. "I don't want to fight about this, Savannah."
"I'm not trying to fight with you. I just want to understand."
"I do too. That's all I want. I want to understand why things turned out this way, because I honestly don't know how much more I can take."
Savannah put an arm around Rowan, who was on the brink of a meltdown, and cast an uneasy glance at the back of their poor driver's head. This was the exact reaction she had been dreading, she realized. Not so much Rowan's anger, but her utter devastation. It was always an automatic derail of whatever they were discussing. "I'm sorry. I know, I know. I don't have any answers for that, hon. I wish I did."