“I called Janet,” Mom adds.
"Manhattan." The word itself represents everything I'm not—urban, sophisticated, bustling with ambition and opportunity.
"Terrifying, isn't it?" Mom's eyes twinkle with understanding. "A place with no trail markers, no familiar paths."
"I wouldn't even know how to find her."
"I have her address." Mom pulls out a slip of paper, clearly prepared for this moment. "And the publishing house information. Janet said they'll be meeting all day, planning the launch that's coming up in a few months."
I stare at it, the neat handwriting mapping a route to another world. To her world.
"What would I even say?" The question emerges more vulnerable than I intended.
"The truth might be a good start." Liam pushes off from the doorframe. "That you were wrong to tell her to leave. That you're sorry. That you love her."
"And if she doesn't want to hear it?"
"Then at least you tried." Mom tucks the paper into my shirt pocket, right next to Daisy's forgotten sketch. "Which is more than you can say right now."
They're right. Of course they're right. I've spent my life maintaining the grounds and trails, ensuring safe passage for others while refusing to step off my own carefully marked path.
"I need to pack." The decision crystallizes. "And book a flight."
Mom's smile blooms like mountain laurel in spring. "Already done. You leave in three hours."
"You were that sure I'd come around?"
"No." She cups my cheek like she did when I was small. "But I was sure you'd regret it forever if you didn't try."
New York City is too loud, too bright, too crowded. Taxi horns blare as I study the address on the hotel slip for the tenth time, double-checking I'm heading in the right direction.
The Plaza Hotel looms ahead, impossibly grand against the backdrop of Central Park. I pause on the sidewalk, my hiking boots and flannel shirt marking me as clearly out of place among the suits and designer dresses flowing through the revolving doors.
This is madness. What am I doing here? Chasing a woman I pushed away through a city I don't understand to say... what, exactly?
The truth, Mom had said. Start with the truth.
The lobby gleams with marble and gold, making the lodge's rustic elegance seem quaint by comparison. The woman at the reception desk eyes my outdoorsman appearance with professional wariness.
"I'm here to see Daisy Harper," I say, my voice rough from disuse during the flight. "She's a guest."
"I'm afraid I can't give out information about our guests, sir."
Of course. What did I expect? That I could just waltz in and find her, like spotting a deer on a familiar trail?
"Could you at least let her know Rowan Callahan is here?" I try again. "From Mountain Laurel Lodge?"
The receptionist's perfectly shaped eyebrow lifts slightly. "One moment, please."
As she reaches for the phone, movement by the elevator catches my eye. Daisy emerges, dressed in a simple blue dress that somehow makes her look both professional and utterly herself. Her hair is pulled back, her expression tired but composed as she checks something on her phone.
She hasn't spotted me yet. I could still leave, spare us both the aftermath of my mistakes. But then she looks up, scanning the lobby, and our eyes lock across the polished expanse.
Time suspends as shock registers on her face, followed by confusion, hurt, and something else I can't quite name. She doesn't approach, but she doesn't flee either, frozen in place as I cross the lobby toward her.
"Rowan?" My name on her lips carries a universe of questions. "What are you doing here?"
"I needed to see you." The carefully rehearsed speech evaporates, leaving only raw honesty. "I made a terrible mistake."
