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“Perfect.”
“Owen,” I stop him before he walks out of the kitchen. “Is Cassandra going to be there?”
The frown that settles between his brows lets me know he hasn’t even thought about that. “No. The only reason she was down here was because Mike was dating her. They aren’t anymore.”
“Is she still working for Crawford Co.”
“I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully. “Cris, if I’d have known that Mike was dating her back then, or that she’d be at the park, I would have done something about it.”
“And when you saw her…”
“At first I didn’t recognize her. Then, when I did I thought my world that was barely held together was about to fall apart on me again. That’s why I lied.” He’s being open about it now, whereas before he’d withheld a lot. Maybe it’s the fact that now we have something in common. We’ve both betrayed someone. Namely each other.
With that same understanding, I say, “Yes, I know. It doesn’t matter anymore. I just don’t want to run into her.”
“That makes two of us.” His lips tighten into a semblance of a smile. “She won’t be there. I promise.”
That Saturday, the three of us dressed in our best spring clothes, we head to The Latta Plantation. When we park, Owen takes Mia, and I carry the strawberry shortcake I half made. Well, maybe a quarter made. I did add fresh strawberries and plated it differently.
There are only a few of his employees there when we arrive at the covered picnic area, but they come trailing in soon enough, filling the space with laughter and playfulness.
A petite woman dressed in a superhero costume I can’t place, stands surrounded by children of all ages, including mine, who tug and beg for her attention. Someone behind me throws some charcoal onto the grill assigned to us, and begins cooking hotdogs and burgers, while others set out their dishes on a covered table.
I stand with Owen chatting, making our way through everyone and making sure no one is left out. At first I was worried someone would remember the scene I’d made when I met Cassandra, the slap! God, my face burns thinking of how hard I’d hit Owen. But if they remembered, they certainly didn’t let on.
My tension eased, as must have Owens. We relaxed into our roles of the happy couple, and I think for now we are exactly that. A couple. Several times during the afternoon, Owen places his hand on my back, or rests his arm on my shoulder.
And when we are apart and we glance at each other, it’s that sort of look to make sure the other is doing okay.
We leave late, after everyone has left and the mosquitos have come out. Mia has played so hard she has fallen asleep, and Owen takes her to the car with me in tow, carrying several bags of leftovers he’s to take to work.
At home, we set Mia to bed and straighten out the house, working automatically, sensing the other’s needs without having to say much. Simply working in comfortable silence.
We head upstairs together, but there we split, he to the guestroom and me to the master. Before the doors close, he says, “Thank you for going with me. It was a good day.”
“Yes, it was.”
There is no expectation for anything beyond a friendly goodnight, and that’s okay. Today has been so much more than I could have hoped for.
It was normal, as he’d said, and oh so needed. A break from the constant emotional rollercoaster we have been on these last few weeks. A possibility that things could work out.
