“God,” I say, leaning back, “relationships are messy—I get that more than anyone—but this seems like we’re reaching. I mean, Emilia is dating Noel!”
Owen eyes me. “I call time of death on that.”
I can’t help but laugh. “That’s terrible.”
“I’m not being mean, Lottie, but it’s Em we’re talking about. She’s got too much life in her—Noel wouldn’t be able to keep up. Trust me, I went to uni with the guy.”
“I guess you’re not wrong there. What about you, Owen? Any special ladies you’re hiding from us?” The question is supposed to be lighthearted, a change of subject from our friends, but instead I think I’ve stepped in some quicksand and despite how much I want to get out of it, I’m stuck.
Owen’s gaze connects with my own, his smile slightly falling, but he masks it. Not very well, though, might I add.
“I’ve never really been in a committed relationship,” he admits, sparking my curiosity that always manages to get me into trouble.
“How come? I mean, I’ve seen you. You’re not exactly hard to look at.”
His gaze detaches from my own for a moment, as if staring into his hands will suddenly present him with the answers he needs.
“It’s not that I have a hard time with women. I hadn’t found anyone I wanted to bring home to Mum.” He tries to laugh it off, but I see what he isn’t saying.
“It matters to you,” I whisper.
His eyes find my own again and he nods.
“You want the white picket fence and the two-point-five kids?” I lean forward, attempting to keep my voice casual, but I know I’ve pulled back a layer of Owen that not many people get the privilege to see.
“Is it so bad to want that?” he asks me.
I shake my head. “I think it’s perfectly okay to.”
“I could see how people would think that that stuff doesn’t matter to me. I’ve never had a serious relationship, and I joke around a lot. It’s easier to look at a guy like Ali and pinpoint him as the one to want that stable home life. But I guess since I grew up with such a powerhouse of a mother and was so close to my brother, it made me realize pretty early on that I want that, but I also won’t settle for anything less. So maybe that’s why I’ve yet to fully commit to anyone. I hadn’t met a girl who I saw more than a weekend with.”
Hadn’t met.
Fuck me and my fucking brain for being stuck on the word “hadn’t.”
“You’re a good person, Owen. You’re incredibly kind and caring, far more than you’d ever take credit for. Hell, you befriended a pregnant girl for no other reason than the fact that you wanted to help.”
“Hey,” he says quickly, raising a hand. “I met you before you were pregnant, Lottie. And it was that ten-second introduction that told me all I needed to know, that I saw you as someone who could be in my life. I never want you to think I’m staying here out of pity or obligation just because I’m the only one who knows. And if I need to, I’ll dispel any other preconceived notions you have right now. That first night I met you in Saint Street, there was a connection there. You can deny it all you want, but we both felt it. It was that connection that made me want to know you. So yeah, you ended up finding out a life-changing revelation a few weeks later, but either way, whether you’re pregnant or not, I want to be in your life. I just think the capacity of how much you’ll let me be has to shift.”
“I remember hearing all about you from Stana during her first few months in town.” I fiddle with my glass of water, my stomach suddenly rejecting anything else.
Owen looks up at me, his dark blond eyebrows coming together, yet he says nothing. Sure, maybe this was the wrong thing to say after what he’s just put forward, but the nagging question pulls at my mind. I’ve always been the spokesperson for if you have something on your mind, say it. But right now, I feel as though I might have entered a danger zone I can’t get out of.
So I smile, my attempt to keep things lighthearted. “You had quite the fascination with my cousin.” My voice isn’t dark or deepening, each note with more cheer than intended so he doesn’t think this is some kind of interrogation. Hell, Owen and I are friends despite those underlying feelings yelling that it could have been otherwise. Yet we both know I’m in no position to reach for something else with him. But alas, my entire life I’ve had an illness called curiosity. Mix that with my big mouth, and I can’t exactly stay quiet about my questions in regard to his feelings toward my cousin.
“That was a long time ago, Lottie,” Owen replies, his smile fading. I focus my attention on my nails, still keeping up the smile.
“Less than a year,” I reply, even though I agree that that life feels like decades ago. How so much has managed to change in so little time… I didn’t even know Owen at the start of the year, and now I can’t imagine a life without him.
“A lot can change in a few months. I think you know that more than anyone, Charlotte.” His gaze is piercing, making my body squirm and my hands dig into my legs. Owen never calls me by my first name unless he’s feeling serious, I’ve come to learn, and with him, it’s almost always jokes.
“Very true,” I say, appeasing him, no longer satisfied with myself for beginning this line of questioning. Again, I try to change the subject, as if the mere action can brush off the feelings I’m starting to
