“I’ve spent way too much time sitting today.” He yawned. “If you want separate rooms, I’ll get separate rooms. But I have to get out of this seat.” He grabbed his fleece and started to get out of the jeep, and Marci put a hand on his arm. His gorgeous gray eyes went from her hand to her eyes.
She really didn’t want to let go. At least not yet. He felt so good under her fingers. Too good. “One last time,” she said.
In answer, he hopped out of the jeep and jogged to the office of the motel, which was in a small, squat building that rested in the center of two long, low rectangular structures that contained the guest rooms. He came back with one key, and she could barely contain the pleased reaction she wanted to have.
The room was pretty standard for a roadside motel. They opened the door to the smell of defeat—a mixture of mothballs, cleaning supplies, and that smell that settles into things that’ve been abandoned or neglected because they’re no longer thought to be useful.
Owen kicked off his boots and left them near the bed. Marci walked over to the stiff, dark green drapes and pulled them aside to look out over the parking lot, which had patches of dirty snow here and there and held a handful of cars that were splotched with varying degrees of road salt, snow, or both. It was dusk, her favorite time of day and especially when the sun was setting against a snowfall. That was one thing she’d definitely miss about being out here when she moved back to Cali—the sun setting on snow. The purples and golds cast over the sky from the sun’s dying rays had a fiery, almost magical effect on the snow-covered trees in the distance. They even lent a certain softness to the otherwise not so pretty view of the parking lot and interstate beyond it. It was a broken kind of pretty. She could definitely understand and appreciate broken beauty.
Stepping back from the window, she looked around the room. There was a king bed, a large flat screen television that seemed out of place in the otherwise outdated furniture scheme of the room, a nightstand next to the bed, and the dresser upon which the television rested.
A tremor of a smile reached Marci’s lips. “The Throne would fit right in here.”
“Yeah.” Owen smiled briefly, but he didn’t seem interested in their usual banter that night. He shrugged off his fleece and tossed it onto an armchair near the bed on his way to the bathroom.
This place was fabulous as far as cheap roadside motels went, and Marci had a certain fondness for them as she’d had some good times in more than a few of them. Especially during some of her wilder college road trips. The bad art on the walls depicted wildlife scenes—deer, ducks in flight, all the standard stuff. The heating unit attached to the wall under the windows at the front of the room made a loud rattling noise. The garish red orange carpet needed a good shampoo. The place had an overall crusty atmosphere that gave it an odd sort of broken down charm. She discovered when looking to plug in her phone charger that most of the outlets were broken.
Marci found a working outlet in the bathroom, which was all rust and discolored porcelain, the effect much more glaring than it otherwise would’ve been under the flickering fluorescent track lighting in there.
Back in the bedroom, she pulled back a stiff green comforter that was decorated with large pink flowers to reveal over-starched cheap white sheets.
“You wanna get dinner or anything?” Marci asked.
Owen rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m really tired. You can get something if you want.” He unbuckled his belt, pushed his jeans down, and then slung his belt and jeans over the rickety armchair onto which he’d tossed his fleece earlier. The chair had a big rip in the upholstery down its center.
“I used to love places like this,” she said. She was about to tell him about some of her crazier college road trips when she looked over at him and saw that he really did look so very tired.
No matter what he said about his admission not changing anything, things were clearly no longer going to be the same. They could never go back to what they had. She’d told herself this had to be the end, but she so wasn’t ready to give him up.
This one night. She needed this one last night.
Walking over to Owen’s side of the bed, she put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. Slowly, his hand came down to the center of her back. A moment later, he wrapped both arms around her and held her to him.
She realized that she was a little shy around him. That didn’t seem right, but for some reason, she couldn’t reach up to draw his lips to hers the way she normally would. She still hadn’t so much as removed her parka even though Owen now stood before her in only a T-shirt and boxers.
Owen unbuttoned her parka, folded it neatly, and put it on the chair where he’d tossed his jeans and fleece. Next, he unbuckled her jeans and pushed them down, waiting for her to step out of them. When she did, he folded the jeans and placed them on top of the coat. Next, he came for her sweater and continued the process until he had her fully undressed. Then he held her to him, and his heartbeat was the only sound.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his chest. He didn’t say a word, didn’t make a move, just continued to hold her. She clung to him, eyes closed. She was already in dangerous waters. If she went in any farther, she would likely drown. She knew he wouldn’t want to hear it, but she hadn’t wanted things to turn out this way.
At first, she thought she could handle this. She’d never expected what they had to be such a soft shock to her sharp side. He’d infiltrated defenses she thought she’d built up so well.
“I’m…” She started but couldn’t finish aloud. Afraid. She was afraid to want him beyond the physical. If she opened the floodgates to all that need, all that crushing, all-consuming emotion, it could cause her world to collapse whenever he inevitably decided to walk away. She would never get to keep Owen forever. Happily ever after was strictly for fairy tales, and she knew she would never survive Owen leaving her if she allowed herself to open up to him the way he wanted her to.
She shivered against him, and he tucked her under the covers. After ditching his T-shirt and boxers, he joined her.
Afterwards, she curled up behind him and said, “No more of this when we get back to Virginia.”
He pretended to be asleep, but she was pretty sure no one could fall asleep that quickly. No matter how good the sex was. She rested her chin on his shoulder, admiring his sculpted and perfect arm. They lay on their sides, so only one arm was visible to her.
It wasn’t like she was oblivious to what a good catch he was. It was that she didn’t want to catch or be caught by anyone. If she’d learned anything from her mother, it was that marriage was a sham. She was better off being single, surrounding herself with good friends, and finding better things to preoccupy her time than the playing-with-matches game of romantic love. Romantic love wasn’t necessary. She had the love of her friends, she had her success in school—she had lots of other things to make her happy.
Yeah, she’d tried that love thing once. And once was certainly enough.
#
In the pre-dawn early morning, Marci awoke to the sight of Owen staring down at her. She reached up for a kiss, ready for breakfast sex, but he put a hand around her wrist, pulled away, and shook his head. Lowering her head back to the pillow, she stared up at him quizzically.
“We have to stop this. You know that, don’t you?” His tone was impossible to read. It didn’t come out as icy as those words should have, but it wasn’t entirely compassionate, either.
“One last time. We’re not done with the one last time until we get out of bed.”
She reached for him again, and he moved over to the edge of the bed and sat up. Looking back at her, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday, and you were right. I was wrong. Things have changed. Just sex isn’t enough for me. The more I get to know you, the stronger that initial attraction gets, and the more I want to know. I want more from you.”
Marci sat up and sighed. “I guess we should get going.”
“Not until you understand
why we can’t anymore. I’m serious about this. Once we get back to Virginia, we can’t see each other unless you’re willing to admit to yourself that there’s more to this than the physical,” Owen said.
“I’m the one who said it’s done in the first place. I get it, okay?”
“Do you get it, Marci? Do you really?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You can lie with words, but your actions…they tell a completely different story. I think this is more than you’re letting on for you. I think you might just be in love with me, too. And I think that scares the shit out of you.”
Marci jumped out of bed and started looking for her underwear. “That’s just foolishness.” She found her panties and tugged them on followed by her bra which she began fastening. “What? ‘Cause I can’t get enough of the sex? What does that have to do with ‘love’?” After putting savage air quotes around the word “love”, she slipped her bra straps onto her shoulders and stalked around the room to grab her jeans from the decrepit armchair. She wasn’t about to shower in that scary bathroom.
“Is the sex all you can’t get enough of? Really?” He crossed his arms over his chest. She caught the incredulous look on his face from the corner of her eye.
“Yep. That’s it.” She punctuated the curt words by yanking her pants over her hips and fastening and zipping them.
“You can get sex from plenty of other guys. You were doing it before.”
“And I’ll do it again.” She pulled on her shirt.
Owen stood and pulled on his jeans and a sweatshirt. “Suit yourself.”
Shoving her arms through the sleeves of her parka, she hissed, “I knew this would happen.”
“Well, you should be so proud of yourself for knowing everything,” he said.
“I should have never agreed to this in the first place.”
“So why did you?”
“Because I—I—I—” But so many of the reasons would make him think he was right.
“I’m sorry about how this is ending,” Owen said. “But I’m not sorry it happened.” His face lost that angry little sneer it’d held so far during their fight. He did look genuinely sorry. Not that she cared. He’d gone and fouled up a perfectly good thing. Well, there was a man for you. Always fouling up a perfectly good thing in one way or another. “I wish things could have been different. I wish I could have met you before that once that was enough. I wouldn’t have broken your heart.”
“No, instead I get to be the ass, right? I get to break yours.” Suddenly, Marci was choking up. And she refused to cry in front of him. She grabbed her purse on her way to the door.
“Marci, wait.”
But she didn’t.
She ran into the ladies’ restroom in the building where the motel’s office was and slammed the door shut. Now that she was safely away from Owen, she couldn’t stop the tears any longer. They blurred her vision as she stared at her reflection in the cloudy, smudged mirror above the sink.
Once Marci was able to get it together, she walked out of the restroom to find Owen waiting for her. He sat in one of the chairs in the office lobby. He was leaning forward, elbows dug into his thighs, head down. She slipped on her sunglasses before asking if he was ready to go. After grabbing slightly burnt coffee from the motel’s office, they were headed back to the hospital by six A.M.
Marci stared at Owen’s profile through her sunglasses as he drove. It really was a shame to lose him. “Pity. You’re so friggin’ attractive,” Marci said. He didn’t turn to face her, but she could see part of a smirk on his face from her side view of it.
“There are more important things than a pretty face,” he said bitterly. “What, is that all you see when you look at me? You go on about how attractive I am all the time.”
“Of course that’s not all I see.” He was one of the best people she knew. That was one of the things that made all of this so incredibly tragic. She didn’t want to let him go, but it was better this way.
“Right. A pretty face and a dick.”
“Owen, don’t be that way. It’s not that simple, and it’s not fair for you to try and make it that simple.”
“Right,” he said. She’d never heard him sound so pissed, never seen him look so angry. “Let’s talk about what’s fair here. That’s what we should do.”
“I never meant—I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“If it’s over, it’s over. Why do we have to keep talking about it?” Owen snapped. Whoa. Where had this complete jerk come from? It was almost as if she were sitting here with Jeremy and not Owen.
You were the jerk first, fool, came the unbidden thought. She tried to push it away as she stared at Owen’s hands on the steering wheel. He clenched it so tightly that it looked painful. He’d been so good to her. He was better off without her anyway.
“I care about you,” Marci said. “And I never lied to you.”
“Nope.” Owen shook his head. “No more than you’ve lied to yourself.”
This was all his fault. He’d been the one to change things up. He’d brought the dreaded “love” into the middle of what had been a perfectly good arrangement. So why did she feel so guilty and sad all of a sudden?
No. Screw that. Let him be angry with her. Fine. It was better this way.
A real relationship between them would have crashed and burned eventually. All romantic relationships did. She was saving them both time and devastation.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Owen had never felt shittier in his life than he did when he rang Brynn’s doorbell, and Brynn answered the door smiling and looking so sweet. This was the first time he’d seen her since before Thanksgiving break. She’d wanted to cook him dinner that night. The fact that she wanted to stay in made him a little wary of where she wanted things to go. All he could think as they chatted about their Thanksgiving breaks and she offered him a glass of wine was, Marci really is gone. It’s really done. And Brynn has no clue about any of it. He couldn’t keep her in the dark any longer. He’d spare her the gory details, but she had to know about Marci. Even though Marci was no longer in his life, telling her about Marci seemed important.
After they sat down to an amazing dinner of linguine with clam sauce, Brynn brought the subject up for him.
“You seem distracted tonight.” She wiped her soft, full, pink lips on her napkin. “Is everything okay?”
“Not exactly.” He sat back in his chair and took a deep drink of wine.
She laughed a little in a way that was clearly forced. “You’re scaring me, Owen.”
“There’s someone.” He scratched the back of his neck. As he searched for the right way to put it, he watched her face change. “Was someone. I mean, I’m seeing. Was seeing. I mean, you weren’t the only person I was seeing.”
“Oh.” Brynn straightened her napkin over her nap and crimson crept into her cheeks. She sat up taller in her chair, and her back went completely rigid. “Oh I see. I guess we never discussed exclusivity.”
“Yeah,” Owen said. “I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner.”
Brynn fiddled with a bread stick. “Do you like her a lot? This other person?”
He heard her unasked question: Do you like her more than you like me? Instead of getting into all the complications and the huge hole in his heart Marci had left, he said, “It’s over between us now.” He thought back to the silent and miserable drive home from New Jersey with Jeremy. Marci had one of Ronnie’s cousins give her a ride to the train station. “I just thought you should know.”
“But you don’t want it to be done.” It wasn’t a question. Brynn looked up from the breadstick, and there was anticipation and fear in her startling cornflower blue eyes. She was such a nice person. Things would be so much calmer with her. Yes, it would be so much easier with Brynn. Why did he always try to make the impossible work? First with Kristin, then Marci. Brynn was good for him. He guessed Marci had been right about that, too.
“Let’s eat. This
fantastic dinner you made is getting cold.” Owen lifted a forkful of linguine.
For the rest of dinner, Brynn mostly watched Owen eat. Owen couldn’t really taste the food any longer, but he kept up the charade. Their conversation was awkward and sparse after that. They talked a little about their plans for winter break. But Owen could tell that his revelation had settled heavily over her.
At the end of the night, Brynn walked Owen to the front door. He wouldn’t let her come farther than that because it was freezing outside.
“My a capella group is participating in a winter concert downtown after the last night of finals. If you’ll still be in town, you should come,” she said shyly.
He grinned. “I’ll be around, and I’d love to.” A normal activity with a girl who wasn’t afraid to like him. That’d be a good change.
She reached up on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his. He bent down and put his arm around her waist and moved his lips over hers. He could feel her smiling against his lips when they pulled away from each other a few moments later.
“Good night, Owen,” she said, her whole face lit up with a glow.
“Good night, Brynn,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay. Good.”
He caught a last glimpse of her smile as she closed the door behind him. He wished he could feel the same way after the kiss. He hadn’t gotten the rush from it that came when there was a real spark there. But maybe he needed to leave those sparks alone. After all, sparks led to flames and flames led to full-blown fires. And fires led to burns.
“It’s better this way,” he murmured to himself as he jogged out to his jeep, thinking he might start to believe it more if he said it out loud.
#
“Come in,” Marci called out in a watery voice to Tyler who had to be the knocker as they were the only two home. They were a few days into finals, and Ronnie had made special arrangements to take all of her finals electronically while remaining in Jersey with her convalescing uncle.
As soon as he walked through her door, Tyler’s jaw dropped. “Marci. What happened?”
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