by Katie Fox
By the time we drove through the center square and made our way around the winding paths that led to the small Cape Cod-style home tucked a mile off the main road, I was anxious to get out of the truck. It was the same anxious feeling that had once consumed me right before I moved to New York, but now that I was here, I was eager to return to the home I’d been once desperate to leave.
As we pulled up to the gray house with the large patio and two-car garage, I practically flung my door open, bolting across the stone driveway and up the set of wooden steps with the paint-chipped railings. The front door—adorned with a handcrafted twig wreath and large green bow—sat partially open, and I pushed my way inside, my eyes surveying the space. Dad was right: the living room did look like an exploded flower garden. Flowers of every type imaginable lay scattered around, and their strong, fresh fragrance overwhelmed the air.
I placed my purse down on the coffee table and started for the kitchen. “Mom!”
“Elle. Is that you, sweetheart?” Her voice echoed off the walls, and as she appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on the apron tied around her waist, a smile lit up her face.
I ran toward her, throwing my arms around her thin frame as her hands came up to stroke the back of my head and the strands of my hair.
“Oh, honey.” She hugged me tightly. “I’ve missed you so much. It’s so good to have you home.” Pulling back, she rested her hands on my shoulders, her blue eyes gleaming with happiness as her lips tugged down at the corners. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with your father to pick you up from the airport. Your sister has been running us ragged the last few days trying to get everything ready. And don’t say anything, but she’s turned into a right Bridezilla, she has.”
“Hey! I can hear you, you know!” A crate full of tulle and ribbon in her hands, Kimmi stepped out of the spare room, and I stared at my sister who was in every way my equal. Long blonde hair, big blue eyes, petite frame, ivory skin. We were both exact replicas of our mother, and I chalked that up to a good thing, seeing as she was in her mid-fifties and didn’t look a day past forty.
“Jesus almighty.” Dad’s gravelly voice boomed through the house at that same moment, grabbing all our attention.
Mom lifted a brow. “What in God’s name are you—”
“Where in the world is that future son-in-law of mine?” He stomped through the house, swinging open doors, and we all stared in wonderment at his unusual behavior.
“I sent him to the restaurant to grab a few things for lunch,” our mother interjected. “Why?”
Stopping in front of Mom, he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her to his lips. “No reason other than I need to balance out all the estrogen that has once again decided to invade my house.” He grinned.
“Oh, shush it.” She smacked him against his chest as they broke apart. “Don’t let him fool you, girls. Your father was up at the crack of dawn dancing and singing with the larks this morning in excitement of you both being here.”
Dad chuckled, wrapping his arms around Kimmi and me and tugging us into a big group hug before dropping brief kisses to our foreheads. “Damn right. It feels good to have all my girls under one roof again.”
Kimmi raised the crate in the air and smirked. “Good enough to arrange flowers?”
Dad made a face. “Not that good.”
We all laughed.
It was great to be home.
Lying on the small twin-sized bed in my old room, I stared up at the ceiling, remembering the girl I once was and the woman I had dreamed I’d one day be. By now I should’ve been married, a full-time writing career supplying a roof over my head—one much larger than the small apartment I currently called home. I’d have a husband who adored me, a dog who shared our bed, and possibly a baby on the way.
It all sounded ridiculous.
I shook my head, the tightness constricting my chest remaining even after letting out a heavy sigh.
How naïve the younger version of me had been.
I almost wished I had the ability to travel back in time, find her, and tell her to never make plans because plans were meant to be broken, altered, go astray. I wanted to warn her that life was full of disappointments, especially when it came to the opposite sex.
What dream are you chasing, Elle?
Owen’s words played across my mind like a song stuck on repeat. He had been right, and that was why I’d been so angry. Sometime over the last ten years of my life, I’d stopped believing in everything that little girl once hoped to achieve. He knew that, and I hated that he saw through me like no one else could. I hated that he used me against me. And I hated that I was now lying here, thinking of nothing else but him.
Day turned to night, and not before long, the moon was casting its glow over the house and shining its pale stream of light through my window. I glanced at the small pink clock perched on the nightstand beside the head of my bed and reached for my cell.
It was just after midnight.
Was he awake?
Unlocking my phone, I squinted against the brightness illuminating from its screen and dragged my thumb across the glass, flipping to my messages app. I hadn’t deleted our text thread from the last time we messaged, and I opened it up, tapping my fingers along the keys.
What do you do when you can’t fall asleep?
Those three little dots appeared, and I waited, my breath held in my lungs.
Owen: Channel 3
Channel three?
Rolling onto my side, I grabbed the remote from my nightstand and pointed it toward the old box TV sitting on top of my purple dresser, immediately flipping to channel three.
I smiled.
Seriously? The home shopping network?
I imagined those lips of his stretching across his face and the deep rumble of a chuckle rocking his entire chest as he read my message.
Owen: Hey. Don't mock it until you try it. They sell some pretty interesting shit at 3 in the morning. You'd be surprised.
I didn't have time to reply before his next message came through.
Owen: What are you doing awake anyway?
What was I doing awake? Thinking of him. Wondering what he was doing and what he had been getting ready to tell me before his taxi arrived that afternoon. But I didn't tell him any of that. Instead, I typed out everything else weighing on my mind.
You were right. I don't believe in myself. I thought I did, but somewhere along the way, the girl with the dream turned into a woman with an excuse. And I don't want to be that woman, but the cost of following my dream is unfortunately one I can't afford. Doing so would mean letting down others, and I can't do that.
My heart pounded with my confession. I had never been so open with anyone. I didn’t like the feeling that came along with it, the vulnerability that exposed me from the mask I constantly wore. And here I was, giving him more of me when I should have been piling on the layers, shielding myself.
Owen: I don’t know what the cost of following your dream is, but I do know that the cost of not following your heart is spending the rest of your life wishing you had.
Owen: Don't do that, Elle. Don't live with regrets.
There was a minute or two of nothing. I didn’t know what to say to him or how to respond. The only thing I kept thinking was he was doing it again: seducing me with his words. He was unwrapping me—my mind, my heart, my soul—and he was doing it all without even being near.
Owen: I stare at the ceiling.
Owen: When I can’t sleep, I stare at the ceiling and I think about all the things I’ve fucked up in my life, and I don’t want that for you.
Owen: You deserve to live the life you’ve always dreamed.
Owen: You deserve everything.
I froze, gasping from his admission and the beautiful words that continued to slay me. I couldn’t take it any longer. Pressing his name, I hit the call button. The phone rang twice before he answered, his slow, shallow breathing filling the line.
Closing my eyes, I sw
allowed down my trepidation. “Owen?”
Silence.
More silence.
“Yeah, Elle?”
I sighed at the relief his voice seemed to bring. “Can you… do you mind staying on the phone with me? You don't have to say anything. I just—I like knowing that you're there.”
I didn’t need to elaborate. I didn’t need a reason or an explanation why. He simply agreed. And I sensed it was because he knew. Without me having to say it, he knew I needed him.
And perhaps he needed me, too.
The hand on the clock continued to tick, around and around. Seconds, minutes, hours passed, and eventually I succumbed to the darkness, lulled by the comforting sound of Owen’s breathing.
He did as I asked. He remained on the line. And my last thought before I fell asleep was that maybe I was wrong.
Maybe it was too late.
Maybe I had already lost my heart to Owen Caldwell.
STEPPING OUT OF my room and carefully closing the door behind me, I padded down the hallway that led to the living room, stopping to grab my purse and the keys to Mom’s car. The rest of my family was at the church, meeting with the pastor who would be conducting the ceremony on Saturday, and I purposely scheduled Owen in during this time. It saved me from having to explain who I was meeting and why. I hadn’t told them about my job at Caldwell Publishing, and I certainly didn’t mention that I’d brought my boss home with me.
There was no point.
Owen wasn’t meant to be coming around, and it needed to stay that way.
Locking the house door, I jogged down the front steps and over to the small red hatchback parked in the gravel driveway. I slid in behind the steering wheel, a weird anxiousness swirling in the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t seen Owen since we arrived on Sunday, and although we’d talked briefly the day before, no meaningful words had been exchanged between us other than the hotel room he was staying in and what time we were meeting. Our last real conversation had been through text, and somehow, that had felt deeper and more intimate than anything we’d ever shared.
As I drove through town, I tried not to think about it. I tried to focus on work and the Bower manuscript, but to no avail. Thoughts of him filled my mind.
Oh, Owen. What are you doing to me?
I parked in the first available spot I could find outside of hotel room seventeen and turned off the car. The Sunset Inn was a quaint little hotel, owned by Bobby and Rae Fischer. The furniture and decor were a far cry from what you would find in an upscale L.A. hotel, but it was comfortable, and the Fischers took pride in their rooms, making sure they were clean and everything was in working condition.
Stepping out of the car and gently pushing the door shut, I crossed the few feet separating me from the building. I stopped in front of his hotel room door, staring at the large brass numerals, and knocked lightly.
Only a second passed before it swung open, revealing a casually dressed Owen in a pair of faded jeans and a short-sleeved gray Henley. His hair was wet and perfectly messy, and the shadow on his jaw was a tad longer than I was used to seeing it.
My heart beat faster at the sight of him.
“Hey.” His voice was low, thick.
I swallowed nervously. “Hey.”
We stood in the doorway, unmoving, and his eyes sharpened. I shivered as he lazily ran his gaze down my body, clad in a tank top and jean shorts, and back up again. The slow perusal felt like a gentle caress, and it forced the memory of him on my skin to the front of my already foggy mind. My breath caught, and I hoped Owen didn’t notice.
He took a step back, his hand still on the knob of the door as he held his free arm out, inviting me in. “I already have the laptop set up and ready to go. This call shouldn’t take long. Liam just wants to discuss and give us a rundown of what will be happening over the next couple of weeks and what we can expect on their end. With them being on the other side of the country, we need to make sure we’re all on the same page.”
Nodding, I slid past his frame, and as I realized where we’d be sitting for the call, my eyes widened and my pulse quickened. The bed. We were going to be sitting on the bed. The rooms at The Sunset Inn were too small to accommodate a separate sitting area for a table and chairs, and I hadn’t thought of how incredibly difficult and awkward this would be. The last time we were together on a bed, it had ended with him walking away from me.
“You okay?”
The air suddenly felt too thin, and I snapped myself out of the past—out of that hotel room back in L.A.—and turned my head toward the sound of Owen’s voice. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” He said the word but didn’t look convinced.
The call lasted longer than either of us anticipated. Nearly three hours longer. We had both missed dinner, too caught up in the details of the marketing plan to stop and think of food, and by the time the call was over, it was nearly nine o’clock. Any place worth grabbing a bite to eat from in our small town was closed, and while I could have returned home and gorged on last night’s leftovers, I felt bad knowing Owen would be left to fend for himself.
As he walked me to the door, I stopped, asking the question before I even had a chance to thoroughly think it through. “Are you hungry? Do you want to go get dinner?”
He smiled at me, an adorable lopsided grin taking over his face. “Yeah. I’d love that actually.”
“Okay then. I’ll just”—I tossed my thumb over my shoulder—“I’ll wait for you in the car.”
“I didn’t know you could drive.”
A laugh floated from my chest as I glanced over at Owen. “I can drive. There is just no point in having a car when you live in the city. I don’t have to tell you parking fees are astronomical, and honestly, I don’t mind walking or relying on public transportation.” Shrugging my shoulder, I turned down the road that led to the coast. “Besides, driving in New York makes me anxious.”
“Don’t I know it.” His eyes flashed to mine and he smiled softly. “Where are we going anyway?”
“You’ll see. We’re almost here.”
We drove for another five minutes or so, and as the trees lining either side of the road grew farther apart and the smell of salt in the air thickened, I felt that usual happiness sink into my veins. New York may have been home, but this…this was my everything. This was the cost of following my dreams, and there was no way I’d ever risk losing it.
Coming to a slow stop in front of the restaurant, I killed the engine and hopped out. Owen did the same, his hand lingering on the passenger side door for a moment as his eyes roamed over the large blue and white sign on the building before flicking to mine. “Callihan’s Pier. Is this your—”
“My parents’ restaurant?” I nodded, smiling tightly, feeling a mix of sadness and pride clawing at my chest. “Yep. Usually it’s open until nine thirty, but with Kimmi’s wedding on Saturday they’ve decided to close early every night this week.” I shoved the tips of my fingers into my pockets and bit down on the corner of my lip, rocking forward on my toes. “It’s all ours for the evening.”
“Wow...” His voice trailed as he closed the car door, and I pulled the keys from my purse, kicking a stone across the empty lot as I made my way toward the front entrance. A large wooden deck surrounded the perimeter of the restaurant, connecting to a pier which led out to the water. The beachfront view was just one of the many reasons why I loved this place so much, and deciding I wanted to share a piece of it with Owen, I stopped as we reached the double glass doors.
“Come on.” I gestured for him to follow me. “I want to show you something first.”
He followed without argument, falling in step beside me as we walked around the open-air patio deck. We rounded the rear corner, and as Owen’s gaze drifted over the sandy beach and the gentle push and pull of the waves as they lapped at the shore, I saw it. I saw the moment he fell in love with my everything.
A small gasp parted his lips, and his feet slowed their movement as he walked to the rail
ing, placing his hands on top of it. I joined him, resting my elbows on it for support, and leaned forward, watching as the moon’s glow danced along the surface of the water. I tilted my head to catch another glance of his expression. “It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?”
His eyes never swayed from the view. “It’s amazing.”
This…this is the cost of following my dream, Owen.
I wanted to speak the words out loud. I wanted to make him understand, but I couldn’t, not without telling him all about my family's struggles, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to share that with him. It would lead to pity. And I didn’t want his pity.
“If you think this is amazing, you should see the sunsets. When the water meets the horizon, painted in its deep oranges and vibrant purples, there is nothing else quite like it. I swear that’s where heaven exists.”
Owen’s head snapped to the side, and I didn’t know if it was the glimmer of the moon reflecting off his eyes or if it was a thin layer of tears coating the dark green pools, but whatever it was, it stole my breath.
“You, uh...you really think that?”
I smiled warmly at him. “Yeah. I do.”
His chest rose on a deep inhale, and he took one more look at the water before turning to face me, and I suspected he was becoming uncomfortable. His expression lacked the admiration it initially held.
Straightening myself, I folded my arms over my chest and squinted up at him. “Ready to get something to eat?”
“Yeah.”
Instead of walking to the main entrance, we slipped in through the rear door that led right into the kitchen. I flipped the switch on the wall, and as the entire space brightened under the fluorescent lights, I walked over to the walk-in refrigerator and started collecting everything I needed to make us dinner. “I hope you like seafood!”