“Well, open it.” Owen motions to the box.
Smiling, I tug off the lid and toss it aside on my couch. When I pull back the soft layers of tissue paper, a folded yellow dress sits below. My heart lurches as I carefully take it out and unfold it. Before me is a small yellow smock dress with puffy sleeves and a white collar, detailed flowers embroidered across the chest.
Oh my God.
My eyes fill with tears as I look it over, the tiny thing almost an exact replica of the one I wore as a child. The one I told Owen about all those months ago.
“How did you get this?” I ask, my voice soft as I stare at the gift in awe.
“It’s not the exact one you wore, but I took a photo of your picture and sent it to a friend of Mum’s who makes dresses. This should fit the baby when she’s around one.”
Without thinking, I lunge at Owen, wrap my hands around him and bury my face in his neck. I hear his quick intake of breath before his arms surround me.
“I take this to mean you like it?” he asks, his breath warm against my skin.
I nod. “I like it. Fuck, puppy, this is the best gift anyone has ever given me.” I pull back and look at his face, a face that only ignites feelings of familiarity and comfort. One that’s safe. Although Beck and I shared two years together before it all went to shit, he never once gave me something this thoughtful. And I guess that’s where my issue lies. I compare Owen to Beck, and Owen isn’t my boyfriend. Yet another thing to add to my list of fucked-up problems.
“I know it’s not really for you, but I noticed you hadn’t gotten anything for the baby yet.”
“I was waiting to tell the girls. If I know them, and I do, they’re going to go crazy buying shit, so I don’t want to go overboard. Plus, have you seen my flat?” I wave my hands around my living room. Although it isn’t dirty, it’s messy as hell. Filled with useless shit I’ve acquired over the years and useless knickknacks I will never use. My bedroom is another story.
“Nothing some cleaning won’t fix.” Owen shrugs as though it’s all an easy solution.
“I guess, but I’ve got a small human coming in three months and I’m starting to realize I’m a lot less prepared than I should be. I mean, I haven’t fully read one of the baby books that sit next to my bed gathering dust. And I don’t even have a long-term plan. I mean, what happens when she’s one and needs her own room?”
“Then you move. And you’re a pharmacist, Lottie. It’s not like you haven’t helped hundreds of mums who’ve come in needing it. There is no formula to having a baby, no rulebook. Trust me when I tell you that you’re going to be fine. Sure, there are a few things to work out, but we can do that this month. You’ve still got plenty of time.”
I nod, knowing deep down he’s right.
“I think I’m feeling emotional.” I blink a few times. “Not in a bad way or anything. I’m not used to this level of love I saw with your family tonight. It’s been so long since I’ve been with my parents, and I’ve never had any siblings.”
Owen stays silent next to me, just listening.
“I guess it made me realize that no matter what happens, I’m going to be okay, you know? Your family is this incredible mix of humans and I think deep down I’ve been scared that Beck fucking off would somehow ruin this baby’s life by leaving her without a dad. But all I need to do is look at you, Owen. Your mum raised one of the best people I know, and she did it on her own. And that alone gives me hope to think I’m going to be okay.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m shit scared, but I think I’ve finally gotten to the point of understanding that this is going to work out.”
“You’re never going to be alone in this,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly.
“I mean, it’s easy to say that, but at the end of the day it’s just me and her, Owen. Everyone has to go home eventually.”
He’s silent, and my only indication that something is bothering him is the blank look coating his face. My insides twist at the sight, my brain pushing me forward to comfort him.
“Hey.” I nudge his side until our eyes meet. “If I’m not worried, then you shouldn’t be.” He smiles, yet it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know it’s late, but I wouldn’t be opposed to watching Wedding Crashers.” I put on the best puppy-dog eyes I can until he relents.
Without any snacks, because we’re still full from today, Owen and I get comfortable on the couch and dive into a movie I’m certain will cheer him up. But as we watch and he eventually begins to loosen up, I can’t seem to stop thinking about the look on his face earlier, and worse, what it might mean.
A few days later, I’m just putting myself to bed when my phone lights up. I don’t hesitate to pick up, wanting to make sure Em’s having a good break.
“Someone’s up late,” I say, grinning into the phone.
“The guys decided to do an impromptu gig at the pub their mate manages,” Em tells me, her voice slightly off. It’s absent of her almost permanent cheer.
“If they’re at a gig, why aren’t you?” I ask, my concern rising. Em almost never misses out.
“It just ended. You know how full on those venues can get. I needed some air.”
“I get that.”
“What about you? How’s
