An hour later I’m walking out of Saint Street when I call Owen, hoping I’m catching him on a break. Rosie is fast asleep in her pram, so I decide to circle the block a few times, not eager to wake her.
“Hey,” he answers.
“Hey, you. Is this an okay time?”
“Yeah, it is actually. Just finished up in a meeting.”
“Awesome, well, I just wanted to see if you were keen to come to dinner tonight. I’m thinking of finally cooking something. Be warned there is a chance you could get food poisoning.”
He chuckles through the line and I can’t help but smile. Something about the husky laugh warms my insides.
“So, is that a yes?”
“Uh…” He pauses, suddenly reluctant. “I can’t come tonight—I’ve got plans—but what about tomorrow?”
“Ooh, hot date?” I tease as I walk by the cupcake shop, my feet forcing me to keep moving.
“Well, actually I’m getting drinks with Zoey, the girl from the app you set me up on.” His voice is hesitant and I can practically imagine how his face looks. Probably how mine does. Despite the digging feeling in my chest, I try to be happy for him.
“Lottie?” he asks, getting my attention.
“That’s amazing! I’m glad you’re taking my advice and putting yourself out there,” I lie with false cheer. My hands dig into the material on the pram.
“It’s not that big of a deal. You know I’d rather hang with you and Rosie. Why don’t I just cancel and we can hang out?”
And there it is. The reason why he needs to do this. I can’t give him a relationship right now; I honestly can’t give him much in general. It would be all too easy and selfish to get him to cancel the date, like I’m sure he’s canceled many in the past because of me. But I need to take a leaf out of Owen’s book and put others before myself.
“No way, you’re going on this date. And anyway, I’ll probably be too tired to cook tonight. We both know I’m ordering.” I try to lighten the mood with the rest of our conversation, but there’s an unspoken feeling between us I can’t shake.
I know if I sat down I would be able to see what that feeling is in a second, but the little bitch inside of me refuses to dissect things. For the first time in my life, I’m willing to live in ignorance.
I can’t sleep that night. I try pinning it on the glass of wine I had after I put Rosie down, but these days that knocks me out faster than anything. I know it’s because I’m stressing over Owen’s date. Wondering if she’s amazing, what she loves to do for fun. I’m sure she’s spontaneous and can drop everything in a second to go out.
I used to be that girl.
But as much as I want to feel sorry for myself, I just can’t. Rosie is my world now and I wouldn’t change it for a thing. I won’t even let myself be pitied.
It isn’t until he calls me the next morning that I find out his date was a bust. Apparently she only cared about his band and nothing else. But instead of doing a mini dance, I push him to keep dating. Exploring all options.
And so he does. Once every few weeks for the next three months until we hit July, Owen occasionally goes out, always coming home saying it didn’t work out.
Until one day in July everything changes.
July
Rosie is nearing four months old. Every day she gets bigger, more curious and engaging. And every day I grow to love her a little more than before. Life isn’t perfect, but it is surprisingly easier than the first few months.
She has found a sleeping schedule, now only waking up once or twice in the night for milk. The lack of a full sleep no longer bothers me, my body adjusting to her schedule. I still manage to see everyone, not as much as before, but still quite frequently, Rosie being such a good little girl that she will go almost anywhere, not making a sound of complaint. The fear and anxiety I’ve had over her first year of life has proven to be slightly irrational. Sure, we’ve had hard times, but for the most part it’s amazing. My life didn’t stop when she was born like I thought it might; in fact, it’s better than ever.
So when Owen comes over one afternoon, telling me he’s met someone, suddenly all the fear I’d had about wanting to be with him just vanishes. In its place, the feeling of pure loss hits me.
“So tell me about her,” I say, pouring my tea. For the past three months Owen has gone on a handful of dates, none of them panning out to anything, but today it was different.
Grinning ear to ear, he graciously takes the cup from me. His gaze latches onto mine as he speaks. I try to steady my shaking hand, not wanting to spill the hot liquid everywhere. Despite it being warm in the flat, I grab the nearest blanket and cover my bottom half as I turn to him.
My fingers weave in and out of the knit material as he talks, his face lighting up with each word.
“Well, she’s in her mid-twenties, highly intelligent, absolutely stunning.” He pauses, pointing to the plate of biscuits. I nod for him to have one, not able to speak for the knife that’s been shoved into my chest. Through all his words, I remember I did this.
“Anyway, yeah, she’s great. Good banter, we get along like a house on fire, plus she’s got a great group of friends.”
“Wow, she sounds amazing,” I manage to whisper, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.
He takes a bite out of the biscuit, nodding, his eyes
