Rescue Breathing

by Zoe Norman

  I haven't really talked to people at work about Owen yet, so it's not a surprise that she doesn't recognize him. But I, on the other hand, never expected him to come to my office. I mean, I'm going to see him in just a few hours. There's that romantic side of him I'm just getting to know—and love I think. But still, I didn't expect a visit from him. I can't remember ever telling him where my office was. Oh well. Who cares? He's here, and now all manners of hot office-desk sex are running through my head. I can't get him in here fast enough.

  "Well go ahead and send him in, Laney!"

  She runs back out the waiting area and I hear her talking quietly to someone. I finish what I'm doing on my computer and clear off my desk so I can give Owen all of my attention. When I can sense someone standing in the doorway, I look up and my blood instantly runs cold.

  Jay.

  I am stunned silent. It's been almost a year since I've seen or heard from him. My heart is pounding in my chest, but not in a good way, and suddenly I have that urge to run.

  "What the fuck are you doing here?"

  His eyebrows pull together. "Hello to you too, Livvie," he says. He holds out the large bouquet of flowers in his hand. "Flowers for your birthday."

  I don't move, so he eventually lays them on the side table in the office. He steps farther into the room and leaves the door ajar behind him.

  "I don't remember inviting you in," I say, tension in my voice.

  "Jesus, Liv. It's been a long time and this is how you greet me?"

  "I think you're an asshole and I thought I made it clear I didn't ever want to see you again. Let's cut the small talk. Why are you here?"

  He sighs and shuffles his feet, looking at the ground. Eventually he picks his head up. "Kate left me," he states simply. "She found out about us…and another girl…and took the kids to her parents. She's filing for divorce.”

  I blink at him, momentarily surprised by this. How did she find out about me after all this time? I want to ask but don't, reminding myself of the advice that asking questions invites him in. And that's the last place I want him.

  "Why do I care that she finally left you?"

  "I just…I've missed you. I never wanted us to end. The baby just freaked me out for obvious reasons. I can't stop thinking about you."

  Is he fucking kidding me right now?

  "What did you just say?" I ask to be sure I haven't just had a stroke and gotten this wrong.

  "I miss you. I want you back."

  My head reels and I start laughing. Not just a 'haha that was funny' laugh, but a full-fledged 'I am in crazy mode to the point of tears running down my face' laugh.

  His face drops and he looks confused. "You find that funny?" he asks, sounding wounded. “I'm trying to tell you I made a mistake, Liv.”

  I finally rein in my laughing enough that I can catch my breath and talk. "Funny doesn't capture it, Jay. Blown away and disgusted does. Pathetic describes it pretty well too."

  He makes a face indicating that he is not pleased by what I've said.

  "You know, you have bigger balls than I ever gave you credit for. You left me when I needed you most. You called me names, blamed me, accused me of getting pregnant on purpose to lock you in, and you want me back? Am I on Punk'd or something?"

  He starts to shuffle his feet again, but he's staring straight at me. "Liv, I love you. I always have. My circumstances at the time made me have to make some hard decisions. But fate has worked in our favor, and now we can see where it would go, could go."

  I am suddenly furious—a 'go after you and hurt you' furious.

  "What a convenient reworking of our history, Jay. Bravo.” I am seething, and I wouldn't be surprised if steam was visibly coming out of my ears. “You had to make hard decisions? A decision, Jay, would have included a moment of thought or reflection on the situation. Perhaps having some insight as to how all this impacted me, for instance. You, however, didn't make a hard decision,” I spit out. “You bolted without a moment of hesitation. So forgive me if I'm not on board with your definition of fate, or love, or anything for that matter.”

  I realize that my hands are shaking, so I take them from my lap, grasping the edge of my desk to steady myself. The last thing I want is for this piece of shit to see me vulnerable.

  “Not to mention, has it ever crossed your mind that when you left my life didn't just stop? That I healed? That I became stronger? That I found someone else?"

  He laughs, "Huh, you found someone else? I thought I devastated you. We had something very special, Liv. I'd be shocked if you found someone else so quickly."

  I can start to feel the vein in my forehead pop out and my blood-pressure skyrocket. "Yes, I found someone else!" I stand up and lean on my desk. "And he's fucking amazing! He cares for me, cherishes me, invites me to his house." I'm so mad I'm starting to lose my cool. "I—I think I fucking love him!" Tears come to my eyes. Not because of the douchebag standing in front of me, but because, standing in my doorway, is Owen.

  My face goes white, then red. I think I might pass out.

  "Owen," I breathe.

  He's looking right at me, his gaze dark. "Olivia?" he asks, looking first at me, then Jay, and then back to me. "Are you going to introduce me to your...friend?” He starts to walk farther into the office but suddenly stops, his eyes lighting up with alarm. “Olivia, why are you crying?"

  "Is this him?" Jay says, incredulous. “This is the new guy?”

  My eyes haven't left Owen's since he walked in the room. How much did he hear? Was he listening outside my door? I don't know if he heard me say that I love him, and I'm terrified that it will scare him away. I look back at Jay to answer his question.

  "Yes," I exhale. "This is Owen." I look back up at Owen, tears streaming down my face in a combination of anger at Jay and fear about Owen.

  Owen gives me a questioning look as I haven't answered his questions. He takes another step closer to me, watching me intently.

  “Olivia, you didn't answer my question. Why are you crying?” His expression is torn, both caring towards me and volatile towards Jay. “Who is this guy, and why is he making you cry?” His voice is less inquisitive and bordering on lethal.

  "Owen, this is nobody, and he was just leaving." I look back at Jay. "You need to go, Jay. Don't ever contact me again. Ever." I put my head down to avoid his gaze.

  "You're kidding me. We have a history and you're going to walk away from me for him?" he scoffs. He looks defeated, which is laughable. “How long have you known him? A few months? We had years together! Years!” He waves his hands in the air to emphasize his point.

  "Our history no longer exists to me, and neither do you. Get out Jay." I point to the door. Despite my tears, my voice is steady, controlled, unemotional.

  He mumbles an expletive under his breath, and after grabbing his flowers, he starts to walk toward the door. Owen is stunned silent and taking all of this in.

  When Jay gets to the door, he turns to look at me, anger in his eyes. "Have a nice life. This is your loss," he growls and stomps out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

  I slump into my office chair, head in my hands, shaking like a leaf, and sob. My whole body is trembling. The multitude of emotions washing over me like waves is overwhelming, and I am practically having a panic attack. Jay was enough of a jolt to the system, but Owen showing up, likely hearing what I said, and now surely needing some more detailed explanation about the piece of shit who has ruined me for this wonderful man, has me spent.

  I can't see Owen, but I can hear him walking around my desk towards me. And then I can smell his aftershave and men's body wash. It has become a scent that makes me feel safe. He makes me feel safe. I feel him next to me, and through my fingers, I see him kneel beside me. He wraps his arms around my waist and gently pulls me into his lap as we settle onto the floor. He cradles me against him, comforting me. I curl into his arms, his face burrowed into my neck, breathing me in.

  For a moment, my sobbing increases. It
's a release of emotional energy now that I feel safe to let it go. After a few minutes, I notice that he's stroking my hair, my back.

  “Baby, was that him? The one you won't tell me about?”

  I let out another sob as I think about all the times I should have trusted him to tell him the truth about my romantic past but didn't.

  “Olivia, please talk to me baby. What can I do? Tell me.”

  I know I need to talk, but I can't catch my breath enough to make any sound. I do know that I've never been so happy to be in someone's arms and I don't ever want to move. His arms are tight around me, almost painful, but I feel so safe with him. I take a deep, shuddering breath.

  "That was him," I whisper.

  He nods but doesn't say anything more, waiting, I know, for me to tell him more, waiting for me to do it in my own time. I realize that it's now or never, and I figure I'll give him an abbreviated version that hits the big points. We can talk about the details another time. I curl into him further.

  "His name is Jay. We dated a long time. He got me pregnant. While letting me know he didn't want the baby, he also informed me he was married with children of his own. I lost the baby—and myself. He is the only person in the world I truly hate. I haven't seen him in almost a year. His wife left him. He came here to get me back."

  The words come out in a rush, and by the time I'm done, I'm sobbing again, holding on to Owen for dear life.

  He pulls me tighter into his chest as I try to catch my breath. I feel his chest expand as he sighs heavily, shakily. “Thank you for telling me, Olivia. I know that was hard for you.”

  I nod into his chest but say nothing, my breath hitching as I try to stop crying. He pulls back from me slightly, tilting my chin up to meets his gaze and then tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “This doesn't change the way I feel about you. I respect you so much for telling me all this.”

  I dip my head, looking to the floor, a stray tear falling from my eye. His fingers find my chin again, and he tilts my head back up to meet his eyes.

  “Look at me. Look me in the eyes. I am not him, Olivia. I am what I have been to you since day one in the first-class cabin of a late flight to Seattle.” He grins, and I can't help but give him a shy smile back. “I am, for better or worse, exactly what I give you. I will not betray you. I will not lie to you. I will only give you the truth. It may not be a pleasant truth sometimes. I've done things I'm not proud of in my life, but it will always be the truth.”

  I look up at him, fresh tears in my eyes. But these are happy tears, tears of joy. I reach up and stroke his cheek lightly.

  "He broke me, Owen. Broke everything about me. But you fixed me. You healed me. You take care of me and you put up with my running and you keep up with me. With everything you do, you heal me."

  I fall into his chest and sob. I feel like every fear I've ever had is pouring out of me. It's cleansing and exhausting.

  "It's going to take a hell of a lot more than a shitty ex to scare me off,” he promises, kissing my temple. "I think we rescued each other. I didn't think I could feel this way about anyone, but you changed everything for me. From the first moment I saw you, I knew you were different. I mean, what woman sits alone in a bar full of men?"

  I manage a little smile and curl back into his chest. We sit there for a while as Owen rubs my back and rocks me in a way that soothes me completely.

  After a few moments—maybe minutes or hours—he pulls back and kisses me tenderly on the lips. “You think you're ready to get up off this floor and go celebrate your birthday?”

  Oh God, it's my birthday. What memories I'll have of this day. I take a deep breath and take his face in my hands.

  “Yeah, I think I'm ready to go. Thank you, Owen. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm glad I found you.”

  He kisses me back, and after standing up, he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet and into his waiting arms. Then he takes my face in his hands and leans down, kissing me sweetly, but passionately. His mouth coaxes mine open, and I feel his tongue lightly brush mine. He tilts his head slightly to deepen the kiss, and I melt into him.

  Eventually, he pulls away, leaving me breathless. "I have an evening planned to celebrate your birthday, but we can change those plans and have a quiet night at home if you want. What are you up for?"

  I snuggle into his chest, not wanting to leave the warmth and safety of his arms. I want to be distracted, but I look down at my clothes. “I wasn't expecting to see you until later, so I'm not really dressed to go out." I pull away and ask, "What time were we going to go? Do I have time to swing home and change?"

  He looks at me, searching my eyes. “I had some shopping then dinner and dancing planned. But maybe we should just go back to your place and stay in. We can order food, maybe watch a movie?”

  This man… I will never fully understand how I got so lucky. I have to believe it's fate that put him on my flight. Fate that sat him next to me. Fate that had him living in the same city.

  “All of that sounds perfect actually,” I answer, wrapping my arms around his waist and squeezing him tight. "Would you stay the night at my place tonight? You never have, and it's not big or fancy, but it's mine and I would like memories of you in it."

  He smiles widely, stroking my hair. “Yeah. I'd like that,” he says, leaning down to give me a chaste kiss. He presses three fingers to the small of my back, guiding me toward the door but then stops abruptly. “I almost forgot.”

  He moves around the desk and picks up a bouquet of flowers. They are exquisite, light pinks and creams, very much what I would pick for myself. He hands them to me with a proud smile.

  “These are for you. Happy birthday, beautiful.”

  I take the flowers from him, grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you, Owen. These are really beautiful.” I grab my purse, and he slips an arm around my shoulder and leads me out the door.

  As we walk out of my office, I give a smile to Laney. I know she heard everything, so it's just easier to nod goodbye. Thankfully, part of what's wonderful about Laney is that she has excellent professional social skills and she doesn't make it any more uncomfortable for me. I'm sure she'll have lots of questions next week, but for now, she allows me my silence, and I can't thank her enough for that.

  Two hours later, dusk is falling. We're in bed, my head on Owen's chest as he strokes my hair. We came back to my place, not able to sustain waiting to make love. The intensity of the emotions we both experienced this afternoon came out in every kiss, every thrust, every moan. It was by far the most intense experience I have ever had with another human being, sexually or otherwise.

  On our walk back to my apartment, we talked more about Jay. Having calmed down, I felt comfortable enough to tell him more, and Owen, God love him, just kept his mouth shut and let me talk, squeezing my hand when it clearly got hard for me to go on. By the time we arrived at my apartment, I had gotten most, if not all of it, out, and the liberation I felt was amazing.

  I find him gazing out the window. “Whatcha thinking about?” I ask.

  “I was thinking about today. About all you've told me.” He looks down at me, stroking my hair. He shifts to his side so we're lying face to face, his head propped up on his hand.

  “I have one question—one you don't have to answer if you don't feel ready,” he says.

  I look at him questioningly and adjust myself so I'm sitting up, leaning against the headboard. “Okay. What's your question?”

  He glances past me and then returns his gaze, eyes locking with mine. “What happened with the baby?”

  I knew this would come up eventually. If he has even the slightest bit of interest in spending his future with me, the demise of my first pregnancy would be relevant. Part of me feels good that it's even an issue for him. But part of me is terrified that this will disgust him, turn him off. I gather my courage and recount the story.

  “I had just found out about his family, the wife-and-kids thing,” I take a deep br
eath. “I was lying in my bed, crying—sobbing really. I had cried so much that my muscles were actually hurting. At one point, my stomach started to hurt too. I didn't think too much of it at first, but the cramping got worse, and I felt something wet between my legs. When I sat up, I saw blood. I moved myself to the bathroom, and well…” I pause, assessing his gaze.

  Owen doesn't look like he's disgusted or anything. He reaches out his hand, brushing a lock of my hair behind my ear, and presses a kiss to my hand reassuringly.

  “I miscarried at home. I called Simon and Reese. They came to get me and took me to the hospital. They couldn't determine why I had lost the baby, although they couldn't rule out the stress of what had happened with Jay.” I close my eyes, the memory painful.

  “Liv…” He takes my hand in his as he sits up so he's facing me. “I am so very sorry you had to go through that. I can only imagine how incredibly painful that was for you. You are too sweet and too amazing to have ever had to endure that.” He pulls me into his lap and leans himself against the headboard, his hand stroking my hair.

  “It doesn't disgust you or turn you off?” I ask him quietly.

  He pauses in his ministrations. “Are you kidding? Why on earth would you ask that?”

  “Well, you know it's just so…fucked up.”

  Owen reaches over and kisses my forehead, giving my body a reassuring squeeze. “It's a lot to take in, but your relationship with him, or the baby, or how fucked up it ended, doesn't change how I feel about you. I need to make sure you understand that fully.”

  I nod silently at him. He has listened to me talk all night, and I sense that he has something to say.

  “I do worry about Jay,” he continues. “He's not going to be a problem, is he? Has he ever threatened you?”

  I furrow my brow. Threatened me? “No. No, he's never done anything like that. I hadn't heard from him in almost a year before this. It was clearly some kind of cry for…I don't know...help maybe? Pity? You could have knocked me over with a feather when he said he wanted me back. I truly don't think it was about getting me back as much as it was about not being alone.”