Late Love

by Scarlett Hopper

  “I’ll see you later, Owen,” I say before we hang up. My fingers are quick to message Stana and Em that I need them to come over.

  I’m sick of waiting, not knowing. Sure, it might be deceptive as hell and make me look like a right psycho, but I have to know.

  I pick my little girl up from next to me, then take her into her room to change her nappy. Reminders of Owen are everywhere here. Little things he’s made not only me but her. Despite me not wanting to admit it, we’ve created a life together.

  “No matter what happens you and I are going to be okay, you know that, right?” I ask her, despite knowing I won’t be getting a response.

  After a fresh nappy and a full tummy, I tuck Rosie into her bed, making sure to give her an extra-long hug, my shaken heart needing it.

  It’s not ten minutes later when Stana and Em arrive. I tell them my absolutely bonkers plan, and skepticism is written all over their faces.

  The plan is for Em to come with me and Stana to watch Rosie. We’re just going to check to see if he’s actually working and if not, well, I guess I’ll just have to go from there.

  I look back at both of them, the panic in their hearts evident. I push it out, only able to handle my roller coaster of emotions right now.

  “She shouldn’t wake up until I’m back,” I tell Stana, grabbing my jacket from the couch and sliding it on. “But if she does, I have formula over there. It’s four scoops for two hundred mils—the directions are on the back of the container. She’s only been asleep for thirty minutes, so I really doubt she’ll stir.”

  Stana is quiet, her big eyes uncertain as she looks me over, yet she says nothing. Her fingers knot together as she nods, giving me some indication she heard what I said.

  “Lottie, are you sure you want to do this?” Em says, voice uncertain, her small frame sitting on the end of the couch. I don’t have time for uncertainties; I’ve been living with them for the past two weeks. I snap my head her way, not wanting to hear her worries.

  “If you can’t do this, then it’s fine, Em, but I’m going.” My voice is firm, sounding a bit like how I used to before Beck, before Rosie. “You can stay here with Stana if you need to. I won’t take it personally.”

  She sighs, her big green eyes showing her disappointment in the situation. “I’ll go get the car,” she relents, getting up and exiting the flat. I take a deep breath, quickly checking the monitor one more time. Rosie’s face is right up against the side of the cot, her eyes shut peacefully as she dreams of things I can only imagine are better than how I feel.

  “I won’t be long,” I tell Stana.

  “Lottie…” She finally speaks, her voice harder than usual.

  I turn to her.

  “I know you think he’s hiding something from you, but wouldn’t it be better if you just asked him? I mean, this is Owen we’re talking about. Owen, who followed you around like a lost puppy all those months ago. Owen, who raises your daughter like his own.”

  I flinch at her words, them hitting their intended target. “It’s because of that I need to know, Stana. I never thought Beck would do it, but look at me now.”

  Her face hardens. “We both know he isn’t Beck.”

  I nod, understanding she doesn’t want to think poorly of her friend, but I have a daughter now and protecting her comes first, at all costs.

  “I know what I’m doing, Stana. Okay?”

  “If you’re sure.” She doesn’t bother to smile or hug me as I leave the flat, and I don’t expect her to. I’m accusing one of her friends, her and Emilia’s boyfriends’ best friend, of being a cheater. I don’t expect them to understand; they’ve never gone through the pain of trusting someone so deeply and then having them shove a hot knife into your side when you’re not looking.

  I spot Em out front in Reeve’s idling car.

  “So where to?” she asks.

  “To his work,” I announce, my eyes latching onto the darkness outside my window. I wonder if it crept its way into my heart recently. Accusing Owen of this would be the highest form of offense to him if he found out. Worse than that, it would hurt him.

  We drive into the night, eventually stopping outside his work building. Em finds a spot across the street, one covered in shadows.

  “So now what?”

  “Now we wait,” I tell her.

  And wait we do. Twenty minutes later Owen walks out of the building, a woman in a tight pencil skirt and blouse by his side. I can’t see her up close, but it’s enough to know she’s beautiful. Tall, skinny, a luscious wave of dark hair.

  “Lottie,” Em whispers from next to me, her voice laced with shock.

  I put my hand up to silence her, my eyes still trained on the wreck I’m seeing in front of me. I’ve been in this position before. Only how come it hurts so much more with Owen?

  I dig my nails into my flesh as I watch them approach a car. She leans in, hugging him tightly before pulling away and handing him something. The grin on his face when he looks at it could only be described as one he directs at me. At Rosie.

  I flinch when Em’s warm hand comes down on my own, a stray teardrop betraying me and slipping from my face onto her hand.

  “There has to be more to the story. I mean, they probably just work together.”

  I shake my head, eyes still latched onto them as they talk. “I’ve been to his office with Rosie before. I know she doesn’t work there. Plus, he said he was the last one in the office tonight, wouldn’t be home for another two hours.” I sniff. “So tell me, Em, where could they be going for another two hours?”

  She turns her head back to the car crash I’m watching, a small gasp leaving her lips as Owen gets into the passenger side of the woman’s car.

  “Follow them,” I command before I swallow a few times to keep away the bile that wants to push its way out of my stomach.

  Thankfully she says nothing, pulling the car onto the street and following the black Audi. We drive for ten minutes, the path they’re taking looking more and more familiar as we go. They stop at Owen’s apartment, where Em manages to find a spot across the street. We wait a few minutes before Owen gets out, his gray suit clinging to his body. The woman doesn’t appear, Owen waiting in the same place until she puts on her indicator and pulls out of the space.

  Why didn’t she go in with him?

  I briefly look away until Em’s voice cuts through my mind.

  “Oh shit,” she says, and my attention snaps back to the window, beyond which a stern-faced Owen strides across the road. Right up to our car. He stops at my window before tapping on the glass.

  “This isn’t good,” she whispers to me.

  I tell myself to keep a strong, brave face, that perhaps he was going to do something with her and just got spooked out by seeing us. I mean, he did lie to me.

  I latch onto that bit of information while I press the button to roll down the window and turn to him.

  He leans down, his head coming into view, and I want to run. Instead of him being angry like I would be, raging in fact, hurt encompasses every aspect of his face.

  “Do either of you want to tell me what the hell is going on?” he asks. His voice is abnormally low, and I know he’s attempting to keep his emotions in check.

  “I think I should call a cab,” Em says from next to me.

  “Don’t bother,” I snap, instantly feeling bad it was directed at her. “This is Reeve’s car—you need to take it home. I’ll call an Uber.”

  I don’t give her a second to question it, throwing open the door, just missing Owen. “I’m sorry, Em. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  She nods in understanding before turning on the engine. Owen steps aside quickly as I get out and beeline across the road. He follows me as I go.

  “What the fuck is going on, Lottie?” Owen catches up to me as I stop and turn to face him. I guess it’s really now or never.

  “Who is she?” I ask, looking him directly in the eyes. He visibly flinches at my question before realization dawn
s on him.

  “Are you serious right now?”

  I stand my ground. “You said you were working late, working alone.”

  “And you thought I was lying? So, what, you followed me?”

  “You were lying!” I yell at him. “I caught you with her and you got into her car, Owen!”

  He shakes his head, as if he can’t fully believe what’s happening.

  “Lottie, I know a lot has been going on lately and I’ve been busy with work, but I’m telling you it’s not what you think. I would never cheat on you. I’m asking you to take my word on this.”

  My head and heart meet one another in battle, crashing together at his words. I desperately want to believe him, to take his word, but my past refuses to let me do that.

  “Who was she, Owen?” I ask again, his face falling at my refusal.

  “She’s a lawyer, Lottie. She’s married to Amanda, my coworker. You met her, remember?” His voice is flat and filled with disappointment as I remember the blonde in his office who mentioned a wife named Sarah.

  “I don’t understand,” I admit, feeling far too confused about this whole situation.

  “I didn’t have a car, so she offered to give me a ride home. Offered to have me over for dinner with Amanda too, but I wanted to grab some stuff from my place so I could get to you sooner.”

  Okay, shit, here comes the guilt.

  “Did you really think I’d cheat on you? Me of all people?” I have to look away from him, unable to take the pain I’ve caused.

  “I—” Clearly unable to form a coherent sentence, I stare at the ground.

  “And instead of coming to me, you followed me with Em? I mean, who is with Rosie right now?”

  I snap my head up at her name. “She’s with Stana, and I’m allowed to go out. She’s my daughter. I would never put her at risk.”

  “I wasn’t insinuating that.” He lets out a shaky breath. “God.” His mouth pinches together as he nods. “I think a part of you is so desperate to sabotage this that you were hoping I was cheating, just so you don’t get hurt again.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I retort.

  “But is it?”

  I don’t have the heart to agree he might be correct. That my initial fears are keeping him away from a life he deserves and I don’t know how much longer I can keep them at bay.

  Before I can respond, my phone buzzes, Stana texting to say Rosie’s woken up.

  “Fuck,” I mutter. “It’s Rosie. I need to go.” It’s a bullshit excuse; we both know Stana is perfectly capable of handling things. But something about having this fight in the street feels wrong.

  “I’ll call an Uber,” Owen says, his tone still filled with animosity.

  We stand on the corner, waiting for the car, only the sound of the wind to keep us company. When the car arrives, Owen goes straight to the front seat, something he’s never done before, and I know things are bad.

  A heavy silence, thick like fog, swarms the car. My eyes lock onto my hands so I have something to focus on, so I don’t cry.

  Once we arrive home, Stana is already on her feet, clearly having been pacing. Her eyes widen when she spots the both of us.

  “I put her back to sleep with her bottle. She’s out like a light.”

  I give her a tight smile, feeling a world of guilt about how I’ve treated her and Em tonight. “Thanks, babe. I’ll call you in the morning?”

  She nods, grabbing her jacket and slipping out, but not before giving Owen a sad smile.

  I turn to Owen, the hurt from tonight the only thing I can hold onto. Sure, I was wrong, but who knows if I will be in the future. I can’t continue to live with these feelings of uncertainty. I know I’m being irrational, but right now all reasonable thought has flown out the window.

  “I think it would be better if we had some space.” As soon as the words slip out of my mouth, I know I’ll eventually regret them. But right now, I don’t have the ability to manage my wild emotions and look after my daughter. Lately it feels as though all I’ve been consumed with is fear. Fear of fucking up as a mum. Of Owen cheating on me, leaving me.

  “Are you serious right now?” Disbelief encompasses his words; he probably expected a fight before we made up, not this curveball I’ve decided to chuck his way.

  “Jesus Christ, Owen, don’t you get it? We’ve been playing house together, big happy family, but it isn’t real. At the end of the day, it’s just me and her. We are the ones who will always be here. You’ve got a life you need to get back to living. You need to meet someone, fall in love, start your own family.”

  He rears back as if I’m a stranger. “I thought I’d already done all that,” he whispers. It’s his stare that guts me. Like he doesn’t even know me at all.

  When I say nothing, he shakes his head, clearly disappointed. “Are you even hearing yourself right now, Lottie? What the actual fuck. I’m not just some placeholder who’s been filling in all these months. You’re not listening to what I’m saying.”

  I shake my head, not willing to listen. I’ve already made up my mind. I won’t condemn him to a life he thinks he wants right now, when five years down the line he will understand what he’s lost out on. “No, you’re not listening, Owen! I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I have to put her first. And lately my mind has been running off with all sorts of scenarios and I’m not giving her the attention she needs.”

  “So it’s my fault you followed me tonight?” His eyes are wide, clearly panic stricken.

  “No, Owen. None of this is anyone’s fault. We got ourselves into a weird situation and neither of us wanted to let go, but I have to be an adult now, so I’m setting you free from all this.”

  “Setting me free? We’ve been together for months, Charlotte. Fucking months and now out of the blue you decide to end it? I’m the one who wants a permanent spot in your life, Lottie. It’s you who is pushing me away.”

  Before I can reply, Rosie’s cries break through the baby monitor.

  “Shit, I’ve got to get this,” I tell him before he cuts me off.

  “I’ll get it,” he says, moving toward her bedroom.

  “Owen.” My voice is firm, hard almost, something I’ve never had to use with Owen before. “I’ll get her.”

  He rears back, understanding the hidden meaning behind my words. She’s not yours. I’m being cruel, and I know it. Yet I can’t seem to stop.

  “It’s time I start standing on my own two feet.” I pause, knowing my next words will be the final nail in the coffin, but he doesn’t deserve to be shackled down by this life.

  “I think you should go,” I tell him, my tone foreign. I practically see the moment his heart begins to break, but I stay strong, knowing this is all better for him in the long run, no matter how much it hurts now.

  “Lottie…” He says my name on a whisper. “Please.”

  I shake my head, unable to look at him. “I’d like you to leave, Owen. I won’t ask again.”

  And as I stand here, watching the man I so desperately love walk out the door, I realize something. Words. You can’t take them back. No matter how many I’m sorrys and I didn’t mean its, the words came from your lips. They were said, whether you meant them or not. And they have an impact.

  It didn’t take me long to realize what a gigantic, epic mistake I had made with Owen. The one person who has been there for me through everything, I kicked him out because of my fears. They whispered in my ear that I’ve ruined his life and dragged him down, despite him telling me numerous times how wrong I am. How much he adores not only me, but also our little girl.

  And that’s the thing, isn’t it? She’s never just been mine. She’s been Owen’s since he was right next to me for the very first breath she took upon entering this crazy world. He’s the one who rocked her to sleep when I was dying from exhaustion. He’s the one who looked after her in the morning when I had to start back at work and he wanted me to sleep in, when the both of us got sick. And through it all I put up e
very hoop and barrier, thinking that he would eventually have some moment of clarity and run.

  Run just like Beck did.

  But as much as I tried to shove him down into that category of asshole men, waiting for him to slip up like Beck and countless others, all he did was step up. And I threw it all in his face due to a moment of utter panic. Panic because he’s come to mean the absolute world to me and my little girl. I see it in her eyes when he walks into the room—those little blue orbs absolutely light up when they connect with his, her chubby little arms reaching out for him to take her.

  So as I sit here the next morning, with all my calls going straight to his voicemail, I realize I’ve deeply stuffed things up, and it just might have been one time too many. I hurt him, not just surface hurt, but a deep wound. I pulled out every cruel thing I could imagine, because it’s what I’ve grown up knowing how to do.

  I don’t get in physical fights, never have even though I look as if I might be scrappy. No, I’ve always known the most power is held within your words. And last night I wielded mine like a weapon, cutting Owen where I knew it would hurt the most.

  The insinuation that it’s just Rosie and me. That she’s solely mine.

  But now I reflect on it, perhaps I’ve been hurting him longer than I realize. I never offered for him to move in with me, despite it being the perfect time and him already staying every night. I shied away from saying “I love you,” just because I was scared he would say it back but not really mean it.

  To put it simply, I’ve been stubborn, not selfish like I thought.

  I’ve been so set in my old ways of thinking, that I don’t need a man, that I overlooked the one right in front of me. And usually I think being a little selfish is okay; sometimes we need to be, especially after having a baby. I needed to be selfish for her and myself, but I’m starting to realize I wasn’t even looking out for my best interests.

  If I were really being selfish like I feared, I would have been with Owen the first night we met, then let him in with open arms the first few times I saw him trying to get in.

  But instead I waited a year, and he stayed. Despite it all, he stayed.