“I take it she doesn’t want to stay an ex.”
“Oh, I’d think her fiancé would have something to say about that,” Owen said bitterly. A little too bitterly. More importantly, Owen hadn’t denied that she didn’t want to stay an ex. And even more importantly, Owen hadn’t said one word about whether he wanted this Kristin to stay an ex.
“How long have you guys been broken up?” Marci asked.
“Few months,” Owen muttered. He was staring at the screen like something on it was paining him. Or maybe what someone in the picture had done to him was what pained him. It felt inappropriate to ask who dumped whom, but she didn’t really need to. She was pretty sure she knew who’d been the dumper. And that the dumpee was standing in front of her looking very defeated.
Maybe it was clearer than she wanted it to be. She’d been asking herself why Owen would go for a non-supermodel type. Not that Marci thought herself ugly or fat or anything. She had a little extra around the hips and a bit of a tummy, and that was just fine with her. But Owen could get Victoria’s-Secret-boy-fantasy-level girls like Brynn and this Kristin for just sex or all the relationships—which was apparently what he really wanted—with little or no effort on his part. Yet he put up with Marci’s crap. Maybe there was all too plain of an explanation for that.
Maybe as he was rebounding from the super hot type, he just wanted someone under his level for a while. Someone who couldn’t burn and devastate him the way the girl in the photo probably had. If Marci walked away, no matter what he said, she had the feeling that Owen would barely feel the pinch.
But that didn’t explain Brynn. Why didn’t he just go full-throttle for Brynn? Brynn obviously wanted him to from what Marci could tell. Maybe he was enjoying the sex too much to let Marci go just yet. And maybe she was thinking about all this just a little too much. After all, she was the one who insisted on no strings. So why was she so busy over here trying to create strings? To thread complications?
“She sure seems to be enjoying that Nassau sun. Isn’t she a hot little thing?” Marci said in what she hoped was a joking, light tone.
“Hm,” was all Owen said.
“Do you miss her?” Marci called her heart out for the traitor it was when it sped up in anticipation of his answer. It sure as hell wasn’t supposed to do that.
Owen deleted the picture from his phone. “We should get in there. They’re waiting on us to start dinner.”
#
Dinner started off pleasantly enough, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Jeremy started “informing” Marci of the dynamics of the Matthis family before they even finished passing around the gravy boat. And in the picture he painted, which was of questionable accuracy, he came off as quite the martyr and the saint.
“You see, Marci,” Jeremy said as he twirled his fork around in his mashed potatoes. “They kicked me out. I don’t even know why they wanted me here for dinner. Maybe to gloat.”
Marci stuffed her mouth with turkey and gravy so she would have an excuse not to reply to yet another of Jeremy’s conversation-stopping retorts. She hadn’t realized she and Jeremy were such good friends until that night’s dinner. Before that night, they’d exchanged a grand total of maybe fifty words at one time.
“Jeremy. Stop it.” Owen sat up straighter in his chair, and his gray eyes turned to slate.
“What?” Jeremy asked, his green eyes wide with mock innocence. “You don’t want her to know the truth?”
“Jeremy,” Ms. Matthis said plaintively. “I just wanted to have a nice Thanksgiving dinner with my sons. That’s all.” Ms. Matthis picked up a white casserole dish with clearly shaking hands.
“Even the one you kicked out?” Jeremy cocked an eyebrow.
Ms. Matthis dropped the casserole dish back to the table with such force that a bit of green bean casserole tumbled over the side. “I didn’t want that to be necessary.”
“What’s wrong, Mom? Don’t want the family’s dirty laundry aired in front of company?” Jeremy turned to Marci. “She wishes I could have died in place of the others.” He glanced at Ms. Matthis. “That would have been a fair trade, wouldn’t it have been, Mom?”
“Jeremy, that’s enough.” Owen rose from his chair wearing the darkest look Marci had ever seen him wear. He looked as if he was barely restraining himself from throwing the massive dining room table out of the way and throttling Jeremy.
Ms. Matthis put a hand over her mouth.
“You shouldn’t have come if you were going to be like this,” Owen said.
“Don’t worry, golden one. I’m gone.” Jeremy stood. “I’ll just get my coat. I’ll see myself out, guys.”
“You can’t go out there in this weather. There’s black ice. You can’t leave like this,” Ms. Matthis said. She clutched her hands to her chest in a nervous-looking gesture.
“Oh, now you’re worried about my wellbeing?” Jeremy snorted.
“Watch it,” Owen growled.
Jeremy chuckled. “I’ll call a friend to come get me. I do have friends you know. Good friends. In fact, they’re the only family I have now.”
“Jeremy, you don’t mean that,” Ms. Matthis said. Her hands remained clutched to her chest.
“The rest of my family is dead,” Jeremy said while staring down his mother.
Ms. Matthis turned to Marci, choked out an apology, and ran from the room.
“Get out if you’re going,” Owen snarled. Jeremy started to say something, and Owen slammed his fist against the tabletop. “Now!”
Jeremy left the room, muttering something about his coat.
Owen turned to Marci and ran his hands through his hair. Then he looked in the direction in which his mother had run. “Marci, I’m sorry I invited you here for this circus.”
“Don’t be.” Marci stood.
“I should…” Owen’s voice trailed off and again he looked down the hall where his mother had run. He looked torn between staying there and going to wherever his mom had gone.
Marci put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll load the dishwasher and put away the leftovers. You should go check on her.”
Owen nodded and gave her a slight smile. It was a very slight one, but there it was. And she appreciated it. “Thanks.” He put a hand over hers.
“Of course.”
He squeezed her hand and then left the room, following the path his mother had taken a few minutes earlier.
#
Later, when Owen walked into the kitchen, he found that Marci had put away all the food and stacked the dishes in the sink that presumably hadn’t fit into the dishwasher with the first load.
“Whoa. You’re amazing. Thanks,” he said.
She grinned. “I know. And you’re welcome.”
He laughed because he knew she was teasing, and it felt nice to have the mood lightened a little. “Mom wants you to stay here tonight. She gets nervous about car accidents ever since. Dad.” Owen cleared his throat and avoided Marci’s eyes just in case pity was in them. He scratched the back of his neck. “Earlier today was different, but now there’s black ice, and it’s dark. She’s already worried enough with Jeremy out there, and she doesn’t want us to leave. She said I should set you up in the guest room.”
“Okay.”
He looked up at her and saw that she seemed completely fine with it. She stood there in a black sweater with her hair pulled back and her arms crossed over her chest. Cheeks still flush against otherwise cinnamon brown skin from the activity of clearing the table and cleaning up the kitchen. Looking so beautiful. Confident. Self-assured. Looking like the Marci he’d first fallen for on that day he’d accidentally knocked her over with his bike.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Do you believe in fate, Marci?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What in the world are you talking about, Owen Matthis?” Maybe she did, and maybe she didn’t, but he had an idea that she knew exactly what he was talki
ng about and she didn’t want him to be talking about it.
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m going to go get the guestroom ready for you.”
She continued to watch him carefully as she nodded. “Okay.”
As he took the stairs two at a time on his way to the guest bedroom, he thought about all the girls who’d fallen for him that he hadn’t had any interest in. He’d always felt a little bad, but it wasn’t like he’d done anything to them. He hadn’t encouraged them. He’d been nice to them but that was it. He was nice to everybody. He’d like to think he was anyway. He’d never believed in unrequited love, though. Those girls had a fascination, sure, but how could they love someone they didn’t know?
No, he’d never believed in unrequited love before. But now. Now he had an idea of what those girls had gone through. Maybe his was just a fascination as well. He couldn’t help but wonder, though. Was this what unrequited love felt like?
Still, with the way she’d responded to him Tuesday night, after what they’d shared…it was hard to believe that whatever he felt was completely unrequited.
#
Marci had just gotten ready for bed and slid between the sheets and under a worn, gray quilt that was quite warm and cozy when she heard a soft knock at the door. She called out for the knocker to come in. Owen stood there in sweatpants and a navy blue T-shirt that was just tight enough across his broad chest to be interesting. And for some reason, she found something about his bare feet incredibly sexy. Well, what about Owen wasn’t sexy?
He tossed his wavy hair off his forehead and said, “Mom’s in bed. She took a sleeping pill, so she should be out by now.”
“Oh,” Marci said, not quite sure what to expect. “Okay.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Your hair’s different.”
She patted her braids. “I braid it at night so it’s easier to deal with in the mornings. Well, I do when I’m not too exhausted from wild trysts to do so.”
“Wild trysts? And who might you be having these wild trysts that exhaust you with?”
She laughed. “Stop fishing for compliments. I don’t think it’s any secret how much I enjoy what we do.”
“Speaking of which,” Owen said. “I’ve always felt skeevy about having sex in this house, but could we sleep together? Just sleep?” He grinned that thousand-watt smile of his. Who could deny him anything with that smile on his face? Why oh why did he put up with her? He surely didn’t have to. What the heck was his game?
She patted the space in front of her on the bed. Owen walked across the room, pulled the quilt back, and slid into bed behind her. She felt the warm, solid wall of his chest behind her, but he was careful to keep the lower half of his body away from her.
“No. I like that part. You don’t have to do that,” she said. He settled the fronts of his thighs against the backs of hers, and his hard-on came to rest against her bum.
“I meant what I said earlier. We’re not going to do anything tonight,” he said.
“Fine.” She snuggled against him. He stroked a lock of hair that’d strayed from one of her braids away from the side of her face.
“This is nice. I know we haven’t been doing what we do for that long, but I miss being in bed with you when I’m not,” he said.
“I miss being in bed with you, too.”
“I’ll bet you do.”
She wiggled against him in response.
His breath hitched. “Please don’t.”
“You liked it.”
“A little too much.” His fingers moved from her hair down to her arm. “I’m sorry I got you stuck here for that miserable dinner and now for the night.”
“I’m not,” she said. “I ended up having a decent time.”
“Good.”
She heard the smile in his voice even though her back was to him, and that made her smile for some inane reason. She was liking this way too much. They would have to work on boundaries again, but that could wait until tomorrow.
His hand slid from her hair to her necklace. He held her dad’s class ring between his thumb and index finger. “Whose ring is this?”
She put her hand over his. “My dad’s.”
“Is that all I get?”
She twisted her head around on her neck so that she could look up at him. “Tell me more about Kristin.”
He grinned. “Always shoving the spotlight onto someone else when things get too personal.”
She moved his hand away from the class ring and her necklace and turned in his arms so that she was facing him. She hadn’t meant to be brusque about it, especially after the evening he’d had, but she didn’t like talking about her father. Opening yourself up to people left you vulnerable to attack. Her life so far had taught her to carefully guard her soft side. But still, she’d promised herself she was going to be nice to Owen tonight. Taking one of his hands into both of hers, she kissed his knuckles gently.
“All you need to know about Kristin is she wouldn’t have done what you did for me at dinner,” Owen said. He skimmed his knuckles along her lower lip.
But I didn’t do anything.”
Owen smiled with his lips closed, hiding those perfect teeth from view. “She would’ve made tonight all about her.”
“But that isn’t possible. How could she have?...” Marci couldn’t see a way that the events of that night’s dinner could’ve been about anybody but Owen, his mother, and his brother.
“Kristin is a special person.” He linked their fingers together.
“I take it you don’t mean special in a good way.”
Owen’s laugh was sudden and short—as if what he found meriting a laugh caught him by surprise. “No, not Kristin. You, however, Marci King, are special in a good way.
Marci pulled her fingers away from his and created what little space she could between them in the twin-sized bed.
“It’s too bad you don’t date. You’d make a good girlfriend. For someone.”
“Someone like you?”
“I’ve made no secret of the fact that I want more. But I have to be near you. And if this is as close as you’ll let me get, it’ll have to be enough.”
“I’m nothing special. Like I said before, you’d be better off with someone more like you.”
“I think we’re more alike than you think.”
“How do you figure that?” Marci asked.
“You’re the type who tries to take everything in stride, right? If anything stresses you out, it’s high-strung people. But when there’s a job to be done, you don’t play about getting it done. You work hard and efficiently when there’s work to be done. You’re loyal as hell to the people you love, and everyone else can go to hell.”
“I think that last part applies to me more than you. I can’t imagine you telling anyone to go to hell.” Except for maybe your brother, she added silently.
“Maybe.” He put his leg over hers. “But what about the rest? How accurate was it?”
“You barely even know me.”
“But was I wrong?”
“Those traits could apply to a lot of people.”
“They could, but I’m not talking about a lot of people right now. I’m talking about you.”
“There’s still so much we don’t know about each other.” She didn’t want him to think he had her pegged even if maybe he did.
“I know you’re kind and loyal to your friends. I know that I admire your strong mindedness.”
“Glenda King calls it stubbornness,” Marci said with a laugh. “And she hates it.”
“Glenda King?”
“My mom,” Marci said. Oh no. Why had she extended an open invitation to Owen to pry?
Owen nodded against his pillow. She wondered if he was going to try and dig into her family life again, but he didn’t. Instead, he said, “You don’t care what others think. You go your own away and forge your own path.”
Marci couldn’t hide a smile at this. At least Glenda King did one thing right even if she didn’t always pra
ctice what she preached when it came to not letting the opinions and prejudgments of others rule her.
Owen searched her eyes with his own before adding, “I’ve never met anyone quite like you. And I am so very glad our paths crossed. In fact, I’d like to think they were meant to.”
Oh no. They weren’t going down this dangerous path. “You were in a football uniform in one of those pictures in the living room, weren’t you?” she asked.
“I played in high school.”
“What was your position?”
“Quarterback.”
“Oh. Quarterback. I bet the girls loved you. You were the most popular boy in school, huh? Not that you needed football to make them love you.”
“You’re always talking about how attractive I am,” Owen said. She thought there was a hint of annoyance in his tone, but he covered it up with a laugh if it was there at all. “You know, in middle school, I was this scrawny short kid with the most hideous braces you’ve ever seen.”
Marci laughed. “I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true.” Propping his head up on his hand, he looked down at her. “Mouth full of metal.”
“There aren’t any pictures downstairs of you looking like that.”
He grinned. “I tried to get Mom to burn them. The compromise was, she’s moved most of them to a shoebox that’s safely stowed away in her closet.”
She laughed harder. “I’m surprised Jeremy hasn’t hunted them up for the purposes of blackmailing or otherwise sabotaging you.”
Owen’s smile faded, and he stared down at the patch of sky blue sheet that was visible between them.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just wondering where Jeremy might’ve gone.”
Man, she had a knack for saying the wrong thing tonight. She closed the gap she’d created between them earlier and placed a hand on his bicep.
Owen lowered the hand that’d been propping up his head and lay down next to her so that they were at eye level with each other. “I wonder if I’m being too hard on him.”
“I don’t know the whole story, but it seems as if you’ve done everything you can for him. I know you’ve probably done a lot for him, but the one thing you can’t do is make him want to try harder. To save himself.”
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