He rears back as if I’m a stranger. “I thought I’d already done all that,” he whispers. It’s his stare that guts me. Like he doesn’t even know me at all.
When I say nothing, he shakes his head, clearly disappointed. “Are you even hearing yourself right now, Lottie? What the actual fuck. I’m not just some placeholder who’s been filling in all these months. You’re not listening to what I’m saying.”
I shake my head, not willing to listen. I’ve already made up my mind. I won’t condemn him to a life he thinks he wants right now, when five years down the line he will understand what he’s lost out on. “No, you’re not listening, Owen! I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I have to put her first. And lately my mind has been running off with all sorts of scenarios and I’m not giving her the attention she needs.”
“So it’s my fault you followed me tonight?” His eyes are wide, clearly panic stricken.
“No, Owen. None of this is anyone’s fault. We got ourselves into a weird situation and neither of us wanted to let go, but I have to be an adult now, so I’m setting you free from all this.”
“Setting me free? We’ve been together for months, Charlotte. Fucking months and now out of the blue you decide to end it? I’m the one who wants a permanent spot in your life, Lottie. It’s you who is pushing me away.”
Before I can reply, Rosie’s cries break through the baby monitor.
“Shit, I’ve got to get this,” I tell him before he cuts me off.
“I’ll get it,” he says, moving toward her bedroom.
“Owen.” My voice is firm, hard almost, something I’ve never had to use with Owen before. “I’ll get her.”
He rears back, understanding the hidden meaning behind my words. She’s not yours. I’m being cruel, and I know it. Yet I can’t seem to stop.
“It’s time I start standing on my own two feet.” I pause, knowing my next words will be the final nail in the coffin, but he doesn’t deserve to be shackled down by this life.
“I think you should go,” I tell him, my tone foreign. I practically see the moment his heart begins to break, but I stay strong, knowing this is all better for him in the long run, no matter how much it hurts now.
“Lottie…” He says my name on a whisper. “Please.”
I shake my head, unable to look at him. “I’d like you to leave, Owen. I won’t ask again.”
And as I stand here, watching the man I so desperately love walk out the door, I realize something. Words. You can’t take them back. No matter how many I’m sorrys and I didn’t mean its, the words came from your lips. They were said, whether you meant them or not. And they have an impact.
It didn’t take me long to realize what a gigantic, epic mistake I had made with Owen. The one person who has been there for me through everything, I kicked him out because of my fears. They whispered in my ear that I’ve ruined his life and dragged him down, despite him telling me numerous times how wrong I am. How much he adores not only me, but also our little girl.
And that’s the thing, isn’t it? She’s never just been mine. She’s been Owen’s since he was right next to me for the very first breath she took upon entering this crazy world. He’s the one who rocked her to sleep when I was dying from exhaustion. He’s the one who looked after her in the morning when I had to start back at work and he wanted me to sleep in, when the both of us got sick. And through it all I put up every hoop and barrier, thinking that he would eventually have some moment of clarity and run.
Run just like Beck did.
But as much as I tried to shove him down into that category of asshole men, waiting for him to slip up like Beck and countless others, all he did was step up. And I threw it all in his face due to a moment of utter panic. Panic because he’s come to mean the absolute world to me and my little girl. I see it in her eyes when he walks into the room—those little blue orbs absolutely light up when they connect with his, her chubby little arms reaching out for him to take her.
So as I sit here the next morning, with all my calls going straight to his voicemail, I realize I’ve deeply stuffed things up, and it just might have been one time too many. I hurt him, not just surface hurt, but a deep wound. I pulled out every cruel thing I could imagine, because it’s what I’ve grown up knowing how to do.
I don’t get in physical fights, never have even though I look as if I might be scrappy. No, I’ve always known the most power is held within your words. And last night I wielded mine like a weapon, cutting Owen where I knew it would hurt the most.
The insinuation that it’s just Rosie and me. That she’s solely mine.
But now I reflect on it, perhaps I’ve been hurting him longer than I realize. I never offered for him to move in with me, despite it being the perfect time and him already staying every night. I shied away from saying “I love you,” just because I was scared he would say it back but not really mean it.
To put it simply, I’ve been stubborn, not selfish like I thought.
I’ve been so set in my old ways of thinking, that I don’t need a man, that I overlooked the
