“Then I guess,” Owen said, “you’re stuck between wanting him to remember and some pretty solid proof he doesn’t. Truthfully I don’t think he’s messing with you.”
“No?” Dawn put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. “You really think he’s forgotten?”
Owen nodded. “He probably felt stupid for taking your drink, then realized he was interested in you, and everything got all mixed up and it pushed his promise out of his head. I think that if you want him to buy the drink so you can have that story,” he went on, somehow managing not to sound sarcastic, “you need to either tell him or set it up so he has to pay. And honestly I recommend telling him. Guys are... well, we’re not great at picking up cues.” His foot nudged mine under the table. “We do better being told flat-out what women want.”
I nudged him back, and tried to hold back my smile as Dawn reluctantly agreed that she would tell Graham that she wanted him to buy her that drink.
I’d told Owen flat-out I wanted him to marry me. Was he going to follow that instruction?
Chapter Seven
Owen and I didn’t see each other on the weekend. I felt like this was yet another test, to see whether I would get clingy, so I didn’t contact him, and he didn’t contact me either. I took lots of long baths, because being in water always calmed my nerves, and went grocery shopping though I hated being out in the crowd of people, and somehow got through the time without him.
We met for coffee Monday, and after we’d been chatting for a few minutes he said, “Tell me about your family.”
I blinked, and he chuckled. “Sorry, a bit out of the blue, I guess. Just curious.”
I nodded, trying to buy myself time. He’d told me about his but I’d kept quiet about mine, and for good reason.
He sat waiting, clearly not planning to let me off the hook, and eventually I gave in. “Well, I have a sister and a brother, but I don’t see them or my parents.”
“Okay. Why not?”
“They are... dramatic,” I said, understating the case by about a million times. “Lots of fighting, lots of making up, lots of fighting again. I just found it all so tiring.” I’d always felt like I couldn’t breathe around my family and now I understood why: their emotions must have been draining the life out of me. “Nothing I could think of to handle it seemed to work, so eventually I just told them I needed to be on my own then stopped taking their calls.”
Most people, when I had to admit that I didn’t have contact with my family, were horrified that I’d have chosen to do that when they hadn’t abused me or something. I knew it sounded like a vicious thing to do to them, but I’d honestly felt like I had no choice.
I braced myself to explain that to Owen, but he simply said, “Makes sense to me.”
I stared at him. “Really?”
He nodded. “My mother’s the queen of drama. I just don’t see her unless I have to, but cutting her off entirely sometimes feels like a great idea.” He grimaced. “Although that would probably just make the drama even worse.”
“It did,” I confessed, remembering my mom showing up outside my then-office to cry and throw a fit. “But after a while, it all died down.”
“How long has it been?”
I swirled my coffee around in my cup. “About three years.”
“So your friends are basically your family.”
I looked up from my drink in surprise. “They are. You’re so right. You got that from meeting them once?”
He nodded. “Dawn’s the little sister who needs protecting and Erin’s the tomboy.”
He was right on. “And who am I?” I said without meaning to.
Our eyes met and he said quietly, “You’re the middle child. Just wanting to fit in and be happy.”
My eyes filled with tears and I looked away, blinking hard. I did want to be happy. But how could I do that, and how could I fit in, when I was a freak who could feel everything everyone else felt? Everyone except Owen. Who was himself most likely a freak.
“Sorry, I--”
“Never mind,” I said quickly. “It’s okay. You’re probably right.”
Owen’s hand came down over mine. I glanced at him in surprise, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at our hands, his head down enough that I couldn’t see his face. “Would they come to the wedding? Your family, I mean. Would you invite them?”
Loving the calm feeling his touch gave me, the way all the emotions around me and in me settled down, and thrilled that he was discussing the details of our possible wedding, I said, “No. I’m sure that makes me sound horrible, but no, I couldn’t handle it. They ruined so many parties and things when I was a kid with fights and yelling, and I wouldn’t want that.”
When he didn’t speak, I looked up to see him studying me. “I’d invite my mother,” he said, clearly wishing otherwise, “because she’d expect it. And my brothers.” He swallowed hard. “And Melissa. Since she’ll be my sister-in-law.”
I winced. “Yeah. Charming.”
“Oh, they are.” He leaned back without taking his hand away. “Want to meet them?”
I raised my eyebrows at him, trying to hide how excited the offer made me. “After that?”
He laughed. “Good point. But seriously, do you? I’m going over to Mom’s Saturday for her birthday. You’re welcome to come along.” He cleared his throat. “Unless you’ve decided you want nothing to do with me.”
“I have not decided that, not yet at least, ” I said, smiling at him with relief that telling him I’d cut off my family hadn’t made him decide that about me. “And sure. I’d love to.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “You won’t. It’ll probably change your mind about me. But I’ll be glad to have you there.”
He would?
Looking like he wished he hadn’t said that, Owen released my hand and we went on talking of nothing, but I realized I was about to undergo my final test.
If I could handle his family, if I didn’t change my mind...
Maybe everything would go exactly as I wanted it to.
*****
We had dinner together that night, and coffee and lunch and dinner on Tuesday and Wednesday, but each time we parted we just said goodbye. No hug, and definitely no kiss. We’d still only kissed the one time, despite how often we were together, and on Thursday, as we left yet another restaurant together after dinner, I wondered whether our apparent lack of interest in sharing another kiss was a bad sign.
Maybe Owen wondered that too, because when we reached my car he leaned in and kissed me, pulling me close as he did. I kissed him back and pressed myself against him as he drew me in even more, and the sparks we’d had before were far closer to lighting a fire this time.
The hunger in his eyes when we parted made me shiver, and so did the meaning behind his words when he said, “I have to work late tomorrow so I can’t do dinner, but why don’t you come to my place for dessert around nine?”
He’d already made it clear that he loved his condo and would want to keep living there for the foreseeable future, and I also knew that he almost never let other people into his space. This was a big deal, and so was the way he said “dessert”. Might as well have said “sex” instead, since he was clearly thinking it.
So was I. His kiss had stirred me, and if we were going to marry and eventually have kids we’d need to have sex. Why not find out if we were any good at it?
I agreed to dessert, in the same tone he’d suggested it, and his smile said he knew I’d picked up his meaning and he liked it.
I did too, until I was standing outside his condo building the next night. I wanted to be with him, but I was scared of what he’d think of me.
The first time I’d tried to have sex I’d suffered such a fierce rush of emotions that we’d had to quit because I couldn’t stop crying. Thinking I’d just been embarrassed and uncomfortable about being naked with a guy, the next time I’d kept as much clothing on as I could and since that had helped I’d kept doing
it. I hadn’t understood how that had made such a difference, but now I felt sure that it had been the closeness to another person, so much skin-on-skin with a man and therefore his emotions, that had messed me up.
Since Owen didn’t seem to have emotions perhaps it wouldn’t be a problem this time. But the thought of how upset I’d been still scared me so under my skirt and lacy top I wore a pale green satin slip I’d bought after work, which I intended to keep on during sex so our naked bodies wouldn’t be completely in contact. I knew it would help, but I didn’t want Owen to think I was weird.
I’d already been more than weird enough.
When he opened his apartment door to me, I saw at once that he was nervous too, but to my delight I didn’t feel anything but a faint hint of it coming from him. It showed in his jittery movements and his awkwardness as he showed me around the place, but it didn’t radiate from him. Maybe we’d be okay in bed. Maybe his emotions wouldn’t take me over.
He gave me a quick but thorough tour, showing his bare-bones but comfortable-looking bedroom with a king-sized bed and a connecting washroom with a whirlpool tub I longed to try out, his darkly decorated “man cave” complete with a big leather couch and a huge TV, and the neutrally painted guest bedroom with its windows open to overlook the front of the building.
Reminded by the view, I said, “Was that a pool I saw by the front entranceway?”
Owen nodded as we moved on. “Nice one, actually. I never use it.” He turned toward me. “Do you swim?”
“Every chance I get. I love water.”
He nodded again but didn’t speak, and I wondered whether that meant he was leaning toward marrying me and so I’d have access to that pool or whether he was thinking I’d never be in it.
The tour wrapped up with the kitchen, the guest washroom, and the living room, and then Owen laid his hands on my shoulders and said, “I’ve got cheesecake in the fridge, or...”
My heart was racing and my stomach twisting too much to imagine eating. We both knew why I was really here. Time to get to it. “Or...” I echoed, raising my face to his.
He smiled. “Or,” he agreed, moving in to kiss me.
The kiss started with the same intensity we’d had the night before and grew from there. His hands slid over my back, caressing while also holding me against him, and mine did the same to him. Touching him, being touched by him, felt incredible.
He eventually broke the kiss by nibbling his way down my neck, and as I shivered at his stubble against my skin he whispered into my ear, “Bedroom?”
In answer, I turned and headed that way, knowing he was right behind me.
Then I stopped as something occurred to me, something I’d forgotten to buy. “I’m... I’m not on the Pill, Owen. It doesn’t agree with me.” Since being naked with a man caused me emotional issues I’d always figured having a condom-less one inside me would be too much to handle, so I stayed off the Pill claiming I feared its side effects and therefore had a good reason to make guys wear condoms.
He kissed my neck from behind. “I went shopping after work. Not a problem.” He gave me a light push, so light I knew he was teasing even before he said, “Get in there already, would you?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and in moments we were on the bed together in each other’s arms.
In between kisses, I unbuttoned his shirt and threw it aside, and he pulled my top over my head. With my slip between us I didn’t feel worried about his emotions suddenly appearing, and the feel of his weight against me as he pinned me to the bed and kissed me was amazing. It had been well over a year since I’d been with a man and now I knew that was far too long.
Owen freed me from my skirt, and as his hands roamed over and up my bare legs I was glad I’d gone tight-less despite the cool spring night. He raised the hem of my slip and murmured, “Off over your head?”
“I’d rather keep it on,” I said, trying to sound seductive. “Mystery is sexy, right?”
He chuckled. “Fine by me,” he said, sliding his hands under it and pulling off the matching underwear.
Did he not want to see me naked? Unexpected disappointment hit me, but it vanished in my gasp of excitement as he stroked his fingers over me.
He knew what he was doing, and nobody had done anything to me in forever, and that combination meant it didn’t take long before I was whimpering and writhing beneath his hand and then losing myself in an overwhelming climax.
As I began to calm down, I reached my shaking hands out to fumble with his belt. He’d taken good care of me and I wanted to return the favor.
I managed to get the belt undone, and he got rid of the rest of his clothes and got a condom on then pushed my slip up and slid into my eager body.
We moved together, his every thrust sending new and delicious shivers through me, until he drove in deep and froze. Not a sound, but I knew he was done. He was the strong silent type out of bed, so I shouldn’t have been surprised he was like that in bed, but I’d have expected at least a little noise. I’d sure made enough.
Had he not enjoyed it? He’d most recently been with Melissa, who must have been the passionate type if she’d run off with another man, so maybe I just wasn’t enough for him.
Had I failed the final test?
Chapter Eight
As I walked beside Owen, who was moving along the walkway toward his mother’s front door like a man going to his own hanging, I realized sex hadn’t been the final test. This was.
After our breathing had returned to normal last night, we’d gotten out of his bed, gotten dressed with our backs to each other, and gotten ourselves some cheesecake. We sat in the living room chatting and eating and drinking coffee, and when the food was gone he said, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night,” and before I knew it I was out at my car after a short goodnight kiss. I hadn’t really expected to stay the night, but I also hadn’t expected to be rushed out, and I’d barely slept worrying about how I must have disappointed him so much that he’d cancel our ‘meeting his family’ date and never see me again.
He’d picked me up right on time, though, since parking was limited around his mother’s place so he’d thought we should go together, and he’d kissed me hello as if he always did it instead of it being the first time, and I’d just started to feel good about things when he’d turned onto his mother’s street and had clearly hated being there.
When we reached her house, he didn’t reach for the big brass lion’s-head door knocker. He stood still, and a wave of pure terror swept me.
The wave became a tsunami when I realized it was his emotion I was feeling.
He did have emotions. I didn’t want him to, but he did.
Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
He squeezed back, and the terror vanished. He’d locked it away again.
I loved feeling him do it. I needed him as he’d been when I met him, and I knew he liked avoiding drama so he wanted to be that way too, and I would do whatever I could to help him maintain his control. For both our sakes.
He raised his free hand and gave the lion’s head three solid bangs against the door.
“She jokes,” he said, “that it should be my dad’s head, so she could give him the beating he deserves every day.”
I turned to him, shocked that she’d say that to her own son no matter why she’d divorced his father, but before I could say anything the door began to open and Owen dropped my hand.
A tall slender woman stood in the doorway, in great shape but definitely old enough to be Owen’s mother, her long red hair bright around her face and shoulders. “Owen, darling, you move faster than me and Austin put together. Can’t believe you’ve found a new girl already.” Before he could respond, she turned to me, her green eyes searching my face. “Celia, right?” As I nodded, struggling with the odd hint of rage mixed into her understandable feeling of curiosity, she went on. “I’m Linda. Welcome. I hope you survive us.”
“Survive you, you mean, Mom,” a
man I couldn’t see put in from behind her.
“Austin, shut it,” she said without heat. “Let me let the poor victims in.”
I knew both “poor victims” wanted to flee, but we crossed the threshold and Linda closed the door behind us. Its clicking shut sounded like doom.
“So, this is my house.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I said, looking around at the rich burgundy walls and glossy black marble floor. I much preferred Owen’s condo’s neutral colors, but I didn’t think admitting that would do me any favors.
“And now I love you,” she said, laughing, and stepped aside to reveal the rest of the house and four people.
The one in front, handsome with blond hair and Linda’s green eyes, said, “Our mother’s the definition of a cheap date,” and I recognized his voice as the one she’d called Austin. Owen had said he was an eternal playboy and I could well imagine he had a lot of luck with the ladies.
“Celia, this is Austin,” Linda said. “Ignore him. We all do.”
Austin transferred his phone to his left hand and held out his right to me, and as I shook it he said, “They do. But you won’t, will you?”
Not sure what to say, I just smiled.
He laughed. “That means you’re not on my side, doesn’t it? Ah, well, I tried.” He released my hand and clapped the shoulder of the tall older man next to him. “Raul. Our stepfather.”
We shook hands, and Raul gave me a gentle smile. I liked him right away. Though I knew he wasn’t related to Owen, he had some of Owen’s calm stability. Better, Raul’s didn’t seem to be created by burying his emotions, because when he looked at his wife I saw how much he loved her.
More, I thought, than she loved him, but before I could do more than note that Austin was saying to me, laughter in his voice, “And I assume you’ve heard of Mel and Nicky?”
The brunette woman stood close to a man with Austin’s blond hair but dark brown eyes, both people radiating nervousness, and also love for each other, strong and true. Their connection touched me, though I wanted to be angry at what they’d done to Owen.
Safe Harbor? Page 4