Page 100 of All Our Nevers

“Keep trying,” I say, feeling generous because dammit, we really are similar, aren’t we?

“I think,” he starts, then quieter, “I know I have some issues, and I’m trying to work on that. But also…”

I take a sip from my water, refusing to give an inch, waiting for him to do the work himself.

The lawyer in him is showing as he says, “I hope we can mutually agree on a course of action that makes us both feel secure, with this Connor thing and anything else. I think we can. I really do. Because dammit, Lia, I care about you. I don’t know when it changed, when you moved from being some beautiful, inscrutable woman that my brother is friends with to being someone who’s really important to me, but you did. And it’s not that we can never fight, but I can’t take it if you shut me out.”

I smooth the napkin on my lap, then say, “That wasn’t as much of an apology as I was expecting.”

He sighs. “I suppose not.”

Then I realize something, sitting up straighter as I ask, “Wait… did you just say this Connor thing?”

“That’s his name, isn’t it?”

I’m sure I never mentioned the name to Owen. Absolutely sure. In fact, I pointedly omitted it from our conversations. That must mean…

“How did you figure it out?”

“What?”

“Did he say something to you? Did he actually talk to you about it?”

“Yes… he just—”

My menu drops, hand going to my mouth. I can’t believe Connor would—

“He just dropped the name in passing, on our run yesterday. Don’t be mad at him.”

I press my eyes shut. On their run. Andy. Andy told him.

When I look back across the table, Owen looks more confused than ever.

“Okay,” I breathe. “Yeah, I’m not mad at him. It’s fine.”

“So what do you think, Lia? Can you let me in? Can you let me help you? Because I need to. I can’t—”

“How are things going over here? Are we ready to place our orders?”

I look up at the waiter with a forced smile. “Not quite yet. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Momentum lost, Owen deflates across the table, adding feebly, “I need to feel like I’m helping. And I think you need to know there are people in your life who will help. I don’t want you to ever have to handle something alone again, or wonder why no one noticed or cared. I’m here. I notice and I care.”

Even in the strange limbo aftermath of our fight, this man is the pinnacle of consideration. It’s clear he’s heard everything I’ve told him, and taken it deeply to heart. I can’t remember ever feeling so seen. So tenderly held, without him even touching me.

So I say, “I’ll try.”

“You’ll try?”

“I’ll try to… talk about this. To be honest and include you. There are still things you don’t know, and you should hear them from me. But you need to promise that I’m in charge, okay? This whole situation—it’s my decision to make, how I handle it.”

His eyes sparkle in the low light, relief twisting at the corners of his mouth. “Okay.”

“But not here.” I glance about the room briefly, at the businessmen and theatergoers in their Sunday best. “I’ll tell you everything but… later. When we’re alone.”

“Okay, yes,” he breathes. “Whatever you want.”