“So how did it go with Reeve?” Owen asks, exiting Rosie’s room. His favorite thing is putting her to bed and since I get to do it most nights, I let him tonight.
“Surprisingly well. He made me feel a lot better about the whole situation. He’s very insightful.”
Owen grins. “For the people he lets into his circle, he’s a great friend. I’m glad you two spoke.”
“Me too. It gave me a perspective on everything that I never even thought of. I sort of assume sometimes it’s black and white, like Beck letting me down just automatically meant bad things forever for Rosie, but I know it isn’t like that now. I mean, sure, I know his absence will have some impact on her life—how could it not? But I no longer feel like it’s this black cloud.”
He comes to sit next to me, the couch dipping with his weight. “I’m glad you sought him out. Despite none of the lads, myself included, having alive or present fathers, I had a feeling he could help you in a way Ali and I couldn’t.”
I think about Owen and his father, a man he never even had the opportunity to meet. A man we never really talk about.
“Do you miss him?” I ask. “Your dad, I mean?”
Owen lifts a shoulder, his blue eyes connecting with my own.
“Sure,” he says. “I mean, I have no memories of him since he died when I was a baby, so my life never had some drastic change I was cognizant of. Mum spoke about him plenty growing up, answered any and all questions I had in order for me to get to know him, but it just isn’t the same. It was a hurt I dealt with as it came along, and I’m at peace with it now. Sure, it’s unfair I never got a shot with him, but I had Evie.”
I reach out and wrap my hand around his wrist, attempting to offer any ounce of comfort I can.
He smiles at me. Kind of a “what can you do about it?” smile.
“That’s why I wanted you to talk to Reeve. Although we both grew up without fathers, our situations were different. There was never a reality in which my dad could come back. I was able to accept that he was gone and would always be gone. But with Reeve there was always that lingering thought. My dad didn’t leave willingly, but Reeve’s did.”
Just like Rosie’s.
“I think that’s why I waited so long,” I say in a whisper, surprised I can even get the words out.
“Waited?”
“God, it sounds so bad, but Owen, I was embarrassed. I think that’s a part of why I kept my pregnancy a secret. I mean, it’s not exactly normal to keep a pregnancy to yourself for six months without telling your friends.”
“You were embarrassed of being pregnant at twenty-five?” His words don’t hold judgment, only a desire to understand.
“No, not that. Twenty-five isn’t that young. I don’t find any shame in the fact I was pregnant; it all stemmed from Beck. I mean, after what he did to me, not only did I sleep with him, but I got pregnant.” Even thinking back to that final night with him gnaws away at my insides.
“Lottie, look at me. Beck is the embarrassment, not you. So what, you had a slight error in judgment. Beck was an important person in your life for a long time. It’s natural in times of hurt to retreat back to a comfort zone, even if that comfort zone was the one who hurt you.”
I nod. “I know. I see that now. It’s just hard to get over it. So much has happened in the past year, and if I think about it for too long, it gets so overwhelming.”
Owen takes my hand that’s covering his wrist and maneuvers us until I’m draped over him. His fingers move up and down my back in soothing motions, my body instantly calming at his proximity.
“It’s been a huge year; anyone would be overwhelmed. But remember when you feel that way, you’ve got a huge support system just waiting for you to lean on them.”
I nod into his chest but say nothing. His words only confirm my fears. He shouldn’t have to be waiting for me to need him. He should be living his life to the fullest, not always be catering to my needs. That voice in the back of my mind rears its ugly head, but I try to push it down, opting to snuggle into Owen rather than face my fears.
A few hours and a couple of glasses of wine later, I’m checking Instagram when I notice Saint Street’s Instagram featuring Reeve and Ali performing.
Why are they playing without Owen?
The comments below are people asking where the blond drummer is. A bartender who works there called Stella has replied, saying Owen had plans and couldn’t make it.
My heart sinks at the comment.
Owen does nothing for himself except be in this band, playing once every week or two if the guys are lucky due to their busy schedules. I know for a fact the only thing Owen had on tonight was seeing me and Rosie. He missed his gig just to see us. And instead of feeling giddy that he put me first, like I know many girls would, I feel pure guilt. My initial fear about starting a relationship comes back—that by committing to me, he’s going to miss out.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a gig tonight?” I ask, trying to push down my internal panic alarms that are blaring. The ones telling me he is giving up his life to be with me. Giving up his passions and dreams.
He slowly puts down the remote, his bare chest still on display as the blanket covers him. I see him pause for a few moments before turning to me.
“It wasn’t a big deal,”
