My stubborn nature doesn’t let me look at him or give him the reassurance I can tell he also needs. Instead, I keep my frame rigid.
“I’m still living my life, Lottie. I’m just lucky enough to have one—well, nearly two—new people in it. You see it as a burden, but I see it as a blessing. If deep down you don’t actually want me around, well, that’s another thing and I’ll have to respect your wishes, but you need to be honest about that.”
“I do want you around,” I whisper, face half-smushed into the pillow.
“Well, good, because I want to be around. And in case the message wasn’t clear enough, I got you this.” I hear the sound of a bag again, my interest piqued so I heave myself into a sitting position to finally give him my attention. In his hand is my favorite chocolate ice cream, and a smile I couldn’t hide if I wanted to overtakes my face.
“But before you have it, there is another thing I need to say.”
My insides clench; I’m not sure where he’s going with this. I want to look away, but I respect him enough to give him my attention.
“Things have changed between us. God, maybe they were always different from the start when we met. There is something here, and I think it would do both of us a serious disservice to deny that.”
I nod, unable to disagree. My mind is thankful for the honesty while also recoiling at what saying it aloud means.
“I think we’re adult enough to admit how things might be different between us if there was no Beck or baby,” I say. “And I want you to know, if there was none of this, no Beck, no baby, you would have been perfect for me, Owen. I would have gone there with you and reveled in every second of it.”
His eyes close briefly as if he’s pained by my words, my own throat tightening at the emotion behind it.
Instinctively my hands search out my stomach for comfort. “But all that’s happened, and I would be lying if I said I’m unhappy with how things have turned out.”
He places his hand on mine. “And I’d never want you to change it either. All these moments have led us right here and that’s okay.”
“Despite everything, I’m glad you’re in my life,” I whisper. “Most days it feels like I can’t do this without you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Lottie. If anyone can do this, it’s you. I’m just happy I stumbled upon you in that hallway, so you don’t have to.”
I shove an abnormally large bit of croissant into my mouth, relaxing into Emilia’s couch. My feet are red and swollen from ramming them into my boots when they clearly need Birkenstocks or nothing. Too bad I’ll never be caught dead in a pair of those.
Emilia is taking care of me today, my emotions all over the place along with my hormones. Stana and Ali have opted for a few days away, while Reeve and Owen are up to something.
My mobile rings, a number I don’t recognize flashing across the screen. I’m not usually one to answer these types of calls but for some reason, I do.
“Charlotte speaking,” I answer.
“Hello, is this Ms. Knight?”
“Yes,” I confirm.
“Ms. Knight, I was given your number by an Owen Bower. He’s here at Royal London Hospital. It appears he and another passenger”—she pauses—“a Reeve Sawyer, were in a car accident earlier.”
My mind goes blank at the words, panic etching its way into every inch of my body. The woman on the other line keeps talking, telling me where to go and how to see them but giving me zero updates on their condition.
“We’ll be right there,” I say quickly before grabbing my shoes and shoving my phone into my bag.
“Lottie? What’s wrong? Where are we going?” Emilia asks, her voice filled with fear.
“Owen and Reeve have been in a car accident. We need to go.”
I can tell she’s confused as to why Owen would give the nurse my number instead of his own mother’s, but I push those questions aside for later.
I finish getting my shoes on before I see Em still standing still. “Emilia!” I yell. “Em, I need you to snap out of it. I know this is scary, but I need you.”
She seems to jolt into place at my words, and both of us hastily leave the apartment as I call an Uber.
“Did they say anything? On the phone, I mean, did they say if Reeve and Owen were okay?”
I shake my head as we walk outside to the corner.
“It’s going to be okay, Lottie. I promise they are going to be okay.”
“We don’t know that, Em. For all we know they’re dead and we have to identify their bodies,” I reply, a sob slipping out.
Our ride arrives and we quickly get in.
“It’s going to be okay,” she says, but I can’t accept her assurances.
“I’m scared, Em,” I admit.
“I know you’re scared, Lo. I’m scared too, but we can’t think like that. I’m sure they’re perfectly fine and this is all a huge misunderstanding.”
We stay silent the rest of the ride to the hospital, my sobs only growing along with my hysterics. All I can think about is Owen and his kind face and how I never got a chance to really tell him what he means to me. How he always only ever did things for me and I never gave him anything in return.
I’m a snotty, teary mess by the time we’re at the information desk, Emilia having to ask all the questions. She grabs my hand and pulls me down the corridor to their room, neither of us knowing what we will find when we open that
