CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ANNA
Weeks passed. I waited for Rowan's calls, texts, or even him dropping by my house. But there was nothing but radio silence. By the end of summer, I told myself that things were over between us.
He knew where I lived. If he'd wanted to contact me, he could have done so already.
I nursed my broken heart by eating a lot of tacos, crying in the bathtub, and writing out revenge fantasies about Rowan. Sometimes both. It depended on if I missed him or if I hated him more in that moment.
Fortunately, I had enough work to keep me occupied. One weekend, it was planning and attending a bachelorette party. The next, a wedding shower for nearly one hundred guests that I was fairly certain the bride barely even knew. Then one wedding, and then another.
The weekend before
