Rowan Marino

The office feels just as it did last time. Like shit.

Dr. Cartwright is sitting in her usual chair. She looks up as I walk in and offers me a small, professional smile.

"I'm glad you came." She says.

I grunt in response, sitting down in the couch across from her. I don't know what I expected, but I didn't expect to feel this tense. I've faced enemies who wanted me dead, sat in rooms full of people who'd kill me for a shot at power, and yet, this...feels different. It's uncomfortable.

But I'm here now so there's no turning back. And I've done the homework she asked for last time.

"Did you get a chance to work on the assignment I gave you? The letter." She says.

I nod stiffly. I reach into my jackets pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper. It feels heavier than it should.
Like it's not just a letter, but a burden I've been carrying. I hesitate before I hand it to her.

Dr. Cartwright takes it without a word. Unfolding the paper slowly. "Do you want me to read it?" She asks getting my approval.

I shrug. "I don't care."

She reads it silently, her eyes scanning the lines I wrote. I don't know why, but my chest tightens as she reads.

She finishes and looks up at me, her expression thoughtful. "This is really good, Rowan." She says.

I don't respond. I don't know how to.

She looks back at the paper and reads a line out loud. "I don't remember what it's like to be seen. Not really. The only person who's ever looked at me without fear or disgust is her."

I stare at the floor, jaw clenched. I remember writing that. I was sitting in the dark, thinking about her. About how she sees me. Not the monster, not the killer, but me. It's terrifying and comforting at the same time.

Dr. Cartwright speaks again, pulling me back to the present. "It's clear you've been through a lot, Rowan. You're carrying a heavy load. More than most people could handle." She says.

I don't respond.

"You've mentioned someone I don't think we've talked about." She says pointing at the letter.
"The man who took everything innocent in me and twisted it until all that was left was rage and violence." She reads.

"Is this possibly your father, Rowan?" She asks.

I stiffen at the mention of him. The man who shaped me into what I am. The man that took everything from me. I don't like thinking about him. And I sure as hell don't like talking about him.

"I don't want to talk about him." I say, my voice sharp.

"I understand." She says calmly. "We don't have to talk about that right now. But I want you to know, whatever you went through...what he put you through, wasn't your fault. It's okay to feel anger, pain, even guilt. But those emotions doesn't define you."

Her words hang in the air, and I scoff. "You think I don't know that?"

"I think," she says carefully. "That you've spent your entire life trying to control those emotions. But the truth is, you need to let yourself feel. Let yourself be vulnerable sometimes. And I think the reason Scarlett cares for you, is because she's seen that side of you. It doesn't make you weak."

I stay silent. Vulnerability? That's not something I'm good at. But maybe she has a point. Scarlett has seen me be vulnerable. And that brought us closer.

"I've spent most of my life being who I need to be..." I finally say. "Not who I am. It's always been about survival. Control. Power. That's all I've known." I admit.

"And now? What do you want now, Rowan? For yourself?" She ask as if I should have the answer. Isn't she supposed to give me those answers?

The question throws me. I don't know how to answer. What do I want? Power has always been the answer, but now...it's different. Now there's Scarlett.

"I don't know." I admit quietly.

She leans back in her chair, still watching me closely. "That's okay, Rowan. Not knowing is part of the process. But I want you to start thinking about it. For example, where do you see yourself in ten years?" She asks.

Yet another impossible question.

Ten years. The question feels too big, too far off. A future. My future.

"I...I don't know. I've never pictured it." I say.

"Do you want a family? A new house? A peaceful life, maybe? Happiness?" She says leaving me speechless.

I've never thought of myself as someone who wanted those things. "I've never thought of those things." I admit.

Dr. Cartwright gives me a small smile. The kind that's meant to be reassuring. "Then that's where we start. Between now and next time, I want you think about what you want. Not for your career, not for power, but for you." She says.

I nod. But the weight of her questions lingers as the session wraps up. I leave her office, feeling unsettled. Like something has shifted in me. As I head home I can't shake the feeling that I need to figure this out.

What do I want my life to be in ten years?

***

When I get back home, the house is quiet. Lucas and Theodore has handled the rest while I was away.

There's a soft glow of the lamps coming from the kitchen. She's in the kitchen, humming to herself as she makes a snack. For a moment I just stand by the doorway, watching her.

She turns and spots me. A smile spreading across her face. "Hey, you're home early. Everything okay?" She asks.

I nod, though it feels like half truth. "Yeah, just...was at therapy."

I walk toward her and lean against the counter. She wants to ask about the sessions, I know that. But she doesn't want to push, knowing I probably won't share it all.
I watch her for a beat longer before I finally ask her the question Dr. Cartwright asked me.

"Where do you see yourself in ten years?"

The question catches her off guard, her hands still as she looks at me. Her brow furrowing slightly. "Where do I see myself?" She repeats the question.

I nod, trying to keep it casual, but I can't shake the feeling that her answer matters more to me than I thought it would.

She seems to think about it for a second, then a soft smile returns to her face. Like she's remembering something, maybe an old dream. "I guess...before any of this, before we got married, I had these dreams about how I wanted my life to be." She starts.

"I used to imagine a big house, not too big. But enough for a family. Three kids. I've always imagined myself with three. I want the kind of home where there's laughter...real love, you know? The kind of love our kids will look up to. It probably sounds cheesy, right?" She says.

I don't think it is. Not at all. In fact her answer settles over me in a way that's comforting.
Her eyes search mine, like she's not just remembering this dream, she's still holding on to it. Still believing in it. I don't know how to answer. A part of me feels distant from the life she's describing, like I'm not sure if I could ever be that person for her. But the other part of me...wants it.

A happy family.

I swallow nodding slowly. "No it's not cheesy, sweetheart." I say planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I like when you're curious." She says since I don't usually ask questions like these.
She jumps up on the counter and I move between her thighs.
My hands resting on her sides.

"What about you Mr.Marino? Do you want to put babies in me?" She teases catching me off guard. I laugh at her joke.

Mini versions of us? Dear god I would love that. And it sounded really fucking good when she said it.
"Once this is all over...I'd love to give you all three of them." I say.

She giggles then cups my face making me really look at her. "I love you." She says.
For a moment I can't speak. My heart racing in a way I haven't felt before.

I pull her closer, my forehead resting against hers. "You love me?" I ask in disbelief.

She bites her bottom lip and nods. "Mhm." She mumbles.

My thumb traces her jawline. "You have no idea what that means to me." I say.

"I love you too, Mila. And I promise to give you the life you've always wanted. Kids, a home, a future, and lots of love." I say kissing her so desperately.

I pull her tighter against me, my lips moving with hers, savouring every second.
I pull back slightly. "I love you." I say again. Because now that I've said it, I don't think I'll ever stop.

Dropped the L word finally❤️