Chapter Eighteen
MAE
Rowan was nervous, which seemed out of character. I was the anxious one, and he wasn't supposed to be nervous. For maybe the sixth time tonight since we sat down at the table, he slid his palms over the tops of his thighs. The brushing sound was subtle over the denim.
The Gallery Café was chic but relaxed. Artwork from the gallery decorated the walls. The space had a tall ceiling with windows looking out over a marshy field. Dusk was leaching the light away. The mountains were cast in pink and lavender, alpenglow against the inky blue sky.
I took a sip of my water and glanced around the restaurant. Wooden tables with colorful placemats and tablecloths filled the space. The décor was modern with a touch of whimsy.
When my gaze made its way back to Rowan, my questio
