Despite Sage's disliking toward the outings since he had to sit at a table while others talked business he did not understand, he didn't dislike the dinner with Rowan's two patrons, Carmen and Hong. They met at a different place that was as nice as the last. Carmen was a tall and beautiful woman, with jet black hair and fine features. Meanwhile, Hong was a tad shorter than her with a dark complexion and a handsome aura. They managed to reserve a table at around fourteen o'clock in a more private area of the restaurant.
They sat down and ordered their drinks. Of course, Rowan teased Sage about ordering a water as he got himself an expensive and rich bourbon. Sage took to his habit of chewing gently on his straw and keeping quiet. He normally played on his phone, but he felt it was a tad bit rude when the other two began to speak about them as a 'couple'.
"How long have you two been married?" Carmen suddenly asked.
Sage looked at Rowan right away. It had been Rowan's wife who was supposed to come. Sage had no idea what was known by other people and what wasn't, so all the questions about their supposed marriage went to Rowan. If he was going to answer, it would be the answer for his previous wife. The one who was supposed to be there. Sage was curious about the answers as well.
With the way that he spoke to his ex-wife all the time, Sage could admit that he was deadly curious. How long had they been together? How long had they been married? How long did they know each other? There were some questions that Sage wouldn't get the answer for, like why were they getting divorced? but the answers he knew he could get could feed his hunger well enough. He turned his head to Rowan, sipped on his water, and patiently waited for Rowan's answers.
Rowan immediately began sweating. Sage kept looking at him, too, which didn't help. Eventually, he swallowed and said, "Five years now."
"How long were you dating?"
"Ten years."
"Where'd you meet?"
"Early school years."
"You graduated together though I heard?"
"Yes, we attended all the same schools, even university."
"Being in med school and in business—ah, that must have been hard," Carmen sympathized.
Rowan switched to lying. He looked at Sage and said, "Yeah, a little." Would that type of relationship be difficult? They had no idea. Even the look they changed was full of the question: "Would it be easy to be together by being separated by different fields?"
The way that Rowan's pupils wavered suddenly made Sage feel guilty. Why? Why did his stomach churn from the devastated look in Rowan's eyes? They were both lying. Unless Rowan was lying about something else too. Something that Sage didn't know. Rowan was said to be the one who left his wife, but he was clearly still infatuated with her from the persistent calling. Was it because of their constant texting? Rowan was seemingly beginning to miss and regret leaving his wife as the days went on.
Sage didn't know what overtook him, but he reached under the table and grabbed Rowan's hand. It was sweaty. For Sage, it was the first time seeing him so bothered. He watched Rowan drunkenly defend him a few nights ago, he watched Rowan laugh at his misery experiencing 'girl talk', he watched Rowan handle complicated situations with a breeze. But this—speaking of his ex-wife made him sweat. Was he that in love with her still?
As a doctor, Sage was naturally quick on his feet. He made a shocked motion: a tiny gasp fell from his lips and his back straightened out. His hand brought Rowan's hand above the table and visibly gave it a squeeze in front of the couple across from them, showing worry. "Rowan, I knew your complexion seemed off. You forgot to take your medicine, didn't you?" To further play the role of a stressed husband, he placed a hand on the other's face and stood up, tugging Rowan up to his feet with his other hand. "Pardon us. We'll be right back. I have a spare supply in the car. Him and his forgetful mind. Where would he be without me… shoo, shoo. To the car."
The couple had no odd reaction to the suddenness of it all. They knew Sage was a doctor, especially after hearing about his heroic moment the day before. So, they excused them to leave for a moment.
Sage dragged Rowan out of the restaurant. Though it was only a little past the middle of the day, it was still a little bit windy. There was a sweeping, chilling cold through the parking lot. The slight draft made Sage get chills. But it was perfect for Rowan who was sweating. Sage tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and patted Rowan's face.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Rowan?" he muttered. He quickly stuffed the napkin away and placed his icy hands onto Rowan's burning face. His own hands were on the colder side from being exposed to the chilling air, so it warmed his fingertips up some. It felt concerning that Rowan was so warm he managed to take the edge off Sage's cold hands.
"I've never seen you so nervous before. You look like you're about to throw up," Sage said. "You're worrying me. I feel like I have to inject you with something." Sage genuinely felt worried. He joked with Rowan, tugged him a bit, laughed at him, but never once did Rowan falter from it. If anything, he bit back. To see Rowan unmoving and nervous was worrying.
"Can you change the topic?"
"What's wrong?" Sage supposed that he could, but he wasn't exactly a talkative and conversational person when it had to deal with things he knew nothing about. He was not a businessman, nor did he know what they knew and didn't know about Rowan's ex-wife. His lip curled and pulled his hands from Rowan's face, but he didn't retreat a step at all. "What are you hiding?" he asked.
"I," Rowan muttered something under his breath, but it was far too quiet to hear.
"What? Speak up. I can't hear you."
"She wasn't really my ex-wife."
Sage was utterly confused. He blinked at Rowan in silence, waiting for him to further explain himself.
"We were married to please my mother, but we were never in love. We're best friends. So, I'm not upset with getting divorced with her. We've been wanting to for years, but it still feels like I'm breaking a deep part of my friendship with her. I genuinely have known her all my life. I don't want a divorce to hurt her reputation, and I don't want to be forced to part friends with her just to get my mom off our backs." Rowan's lips were dry; he ran his tongue over his lips and wet them. His dark eyes slanted to the side, avoiding looking at Sage as he spoke.
"I still love her as a close friend, but we don't want to be married, so we're unsure if we can even have a friendship anymore with the complications behind it all. I get worked up thinking about it. My whole life feels like it's going down the drain out of my control." There was clearly more left unsaid. He stopped there.
Oh. Sage had always assumed Rowan was okay. The other never seemed upset about the divorce, and he regularly called his ex-wife with a cheery tone. He had no idea he had been hiding how bothered he actually was, and he never knew it was ten times more complicated than it really had been. Sage felt guilty, especially for thinking of all the harsh things he did about him calling her constantly.
"Sorry."
"Don't say sorry. It coming from you is worse than anyone else."
Sage frowned. "Why is that?"
"Because it's not like you to pity someone."
"I," Sage found himself unable to argue and fell silent. He sighed, took out the handkerchief again, and continued to dab the sweat on Rowan's face a bit more. "Clean yourself up," he said, despite doing it for him.
Rowan was desperate for a topic change: "You're really good at acting."
"My brother is a photographer," Sage began to explain. "Originally, he was into film. He forced me to help him." As Sage explained, he worked on fixing Rowan's appearance a bit more. The sweat had stopped, and the cold attacked. Rowan's cheeks were red. Sage folded the handkerchief and put it back into his pocket. He reached for Rowan's hands, checking how sweaty they were. Only warm. Rowan's regular warmth. He held a hand in each and compared Rowan's behavior from before and after his mini episode as if trying to diagnose him when Rowan suddenly spoke.
"I know Bella, but how many siblings do you have?" he asked.
Sage answered with ease, finding no problem in answering Rowan's invasive questions about his personal life: "Three," he answered, raising his head up.
"Who's older?"
"Between?"
"You and Bella."
"Me."
A smile stretched on Rowan's face. "Older brother Sage," he teased. He squeezed Sage's hands, reminding the doctor they still held onto each other. Sage glanced down, but he didn't let go, finding warmth in Rowan's touch. He wasn't a fan of the chill outside, and holding onto Rowan's hands was like drinking a glass of hot chocolate and letting the heat travel through his chest. Instead, he glanced back up and scowled.
"Don't."
The dimples didn't disappear. His teasing momentarily ceased, but he kept questioning: "So, are you the oldest?"
"Second eldest." Sage jumped to ask a question, breaking Rowan's streak of interrogating Sage. "What about you? Do you have siblings?"
"One," Rowan answered truthfully. The color had completely come back to his face. He looked relaxed. "But she's a few cities over and doesn't work with us."
"Older or younger?" Sage asked, too focused on sending questions back to think about Rowan's choice in wording.
"Younger by six years."
Sage didn't expect Rowan to even have siblings. He didn't seem like the type. There was too much teasing as if he never learned what it was like to piss someone off before. But the gap in age explained it a bit. "That's quite a bit."
"She was a mistake."
"Rowan."
Rowan laughed. Finally, he laughed. He was okay. Completely okay. Sage subconsciously smiled in relief. "I'm joking, she's fine. I love her. Don't worry. I'm a good brother," he said. "I send that brat money all the time." Suddenly, Rowan backed up for a moment, his hands slipping from Sage's hands. He took off his jacket and suddenly reached over, wrapping it around Sage's shoulders. "It's my fault you're out here shivering," he said with guilt.
"I'm not shivering." but Sage didn't push off the jacket. He tugged it further around himself if anything. It was warm, comforting, and had a slight scent of rich bourbon that was shockingly pleasant. "I wasn't trying to pity you either. Or maybe I was." Sage shook his head. "If anything, I," he sighed and fixed Rowan's hair in a gentle motion, "I don't pity people often, so I don't think you should feel it's a bad or embarrassing thing. You should be happy I care."
"You giving me pity is you caring?"
"Isn't that what pitying is," Sage muttered. "I wouldn't have agreed to this trip if I didn't, at the very least, tolerate you. And I wouldn't be touching you like this if I didn't like you," he pointed out, emphasizing how he was fixing Rowan's hair for him.
Rowan bit down on his lip, hesitant to say something. In the end, he decided not to.
"I'm honestly still confused about one thing," Sage suddenly said. It felt like a good time to mention it especially since he was deathly curious about the strange relationship between Rowan and his ex-wife. He felt bad referring to her in that way after being told she wasn't even considered a wife to Rowan, but he was never told her name either, so Sage was stuck with ex-wife. Rowan waited, staring at him, waiting for his question. "So, you're still friends with your ex-wife," he said as a statement. "Is that why you call her so often?"
"What?"
"What?"
Rowan blinked. "You, you think I've been calling and texting her?"
Sage suddenly felt stupid. "Who else have you been talking to like that?" he muttered in a quiet tone. At least the smile returned to Rowan's face, the dimples popping through his cheeks.
"Have you been jealous?" he asked. Sage's face immediately turned sour, glaring at him with a cold and dulled expression, but at least, Rowan was back to laughing. He wrapped his arm around Sage to head back inside the restaurant. "I'll let you two meet when we get back to the inn. Let's finish this date."