“Let’s just get this over with,” I tell her, small hiccups bursting from me. Yet when the door opens and we find both Owen and Reeve sitting there, seemingly okay, I lose it.
“What the actual fuck!” I scream, rushing over to Owen and shoving him with my bag. “How the fuck are you alive!” It’s a ridiculous question; of course I’m happy they’re okay. But if they’re as okay as they seem, why didn’t they call?
“Huh?” His cluelessness only further infuriates me. On impulse I swing my bag at him again, but this time he grabs it out of my hands.
“Why didn’t you call us? Some nurse said you were in a crash, and you were dead for all we knew! What the fuck!” I can’t stop yelling. I’ve finally stopped crying, replacing it with chastising Owen for scaring the shit out of me. The pure panic I felt moments ago still lingers inside me.
“Fuck,” Owen says, his face falling. He reaches for me, and I initially draw back before finally going to his side.
“I left my phone in his car and Reeve’s died. I asked the nurse to call you guys for me while we were being checked out. I really thought she would have mentioned we were okay. Reeve’s car is fucked up, but we don’t have any serious injuries.”
I stay silent, wanting to hear the full story, needing to.
“We got T-boned by some prick who ran a red light. It all happened so quickly. I smacked my head on the dash and the car’s pretty fucked, but besides that everyone’s okay.”
I nod, unable to take my eyes off him for fear he will disappear before me.
“I promise, we’re okay. I’m fucking sorry for scaring you like that.” He looks me right in the eyes, but I can’t seem to process it all, especially when Em and Reeve are having a moment of their own.
Owen motions his head toward the door, and I nod, both of us slipping out to give Em, who has been quiet the entire time, some space with Reeve. My money is on a reconciliation by the end of the hour.
Owen stays silent as we walk down the sterilized halls, my hand coming to rest upon my protruding stomach. In less than two months I’ll be back here to have my little girl. The thought is sobering.
“Lottie,” Owen says, but I shake my head, not wanting to lose it in these halls again.
“Are you okay to go home? Do you need to be discharged?” I ask, attempting to keep my voice even.
“The nurse came in before you arrived. We can leave.”
I nod, walking toward the exit, making sure to keep a slow pace for him to follow. Once outside I get us a cab and tell the driver my address, Owen staying silent next to me. The drive isn’t quick, but it feels brief, my mind racing over everything swirling inside of me.
I pay before Owen has a chance to, trying to have a quick exit, but my body isn’t able to pop in and out like I used to. Taking our time, we get into my flat, some sort of switch flipping inside of me as soon as I know he’s safe, we’re both safe and here.
I bypass my couch, all my shit littered everywhere as I stand facing a wall, attempting to control myself.
“Lottie.” His voice is soft as he says my name, pleading almost. I know my reaction is scaring him, but how do I even begin to express how much he scared me? How the mere thought of not having him in my life brought me to my knees. How his presence has revived me in my darkest hour.
Taking a deep breath, I turn to face him on the other side of the room. His eyes are like a torrid storm of blue and gray, practically pleading for me to say something.
“You scared me,” I admit like a wounded child. “You scared me more than I’ve ever been scared in my entire life.”
He shuts his eyes before opening them and taking a step forward. I put up a shaky hand, silencing anything he has to say. His mouth closes, as though he knows I need to let this out. It’s time I’m finally fully honest, not hiding behind fear and regret.
“No, Owen, you don’t get it,” I whisper, surprised he can still hear me. “It scared me because you mean everything to me.”
He inhales quickly, appearing to have an internal battle with himself before he clearly says “fuck it” and rushes toward me. I accept it this time, meeting him halfway as his strong arms lock around me, careful to be mindful of the baby. I inhale his scent, needing that extra reminder that he’s still here, that he’s okay.
“You mean everything to me too, Lottie. You both do. That’s why I asked the nurse to call you, not Mum. Even though I knew everything was okay, you were the only one I wanted to see. I just wish they’d given you more information. I’d never want you to worry like that.”
His breath is warm against my shoulder, comfort overtaking me as I nuzzle closer to him. We stand like this for a few minutes, both seemingly needing the closeness of one another. Owen finally pulls back, looking down at me.
It’s that moment where I know I need to pull away, so reluctantly I do, a forced smile coming down like a mask.
We spend the rest of the night on opposite ends of the couch watching a movie, pretending that we don’t want each other as much as we do.
A week later, I’m sitting in my favorite cake shop with Reeve and Owen, faking I don’t know Stana and Em are setting up for a baby shower at my place.
“How long do I have to pretend to be getting my nails done?” I ask after finishing off a cupcake. It seems cravings for pure sugar hit at ten
