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“Like I said, I didn’t think you’d do that. It’s just something that always crosses my mind when someone is late—that they’re never coming back.” I shook my head. “Oh my God. It’s way too late for my crazy to come out tonight.”
“I love your crazy.” He smiled. “But it’snotcrazy. You have every reason to feel that way based on what you’ve been through.”
“I barely know you, Owen, and I’ve already unloaded so much of my baggage.”
He stared into my eyes. “You feel like you barely know me. But…” He paused. “I’ve been inside of you. And I’ve loved learning about you ever since. Even if the order of events is kind of unusual, all in all, I think we know each other better than most.”
His words—“I’ve been inside of you”—gave me chills. He had, hadn’t he? And yet I’d always treated him like a virtual stranger.
“I have a hard time letting people in, even if I care about them.” I needed to shut this down before I started to cry, so I stood to throw away some of the garbage.
“Do you want me to take out the pie?” he asked.
I felt horrible telling him no, because he’d gone to all that trouble. But I was too full. In fact, my stomach was quite upset at the moment.
“How about we have it for breakfast? I’m stuffed.”
“That sounds good, actually. It’ll go well with coffee.”
Owen got up and finished cleaning off the table. “I’m gonna go next door and take a shower. We should probably get some sleep in case we have to hog-tie your mother and carry her to my car tomorrow.”
I laughed. “That’s more of a possibility than you think, you know.”
“Oh, I know.” He grinned. “You prepared me for that.”
“Goodnight, Owen.” I grabbed his hand and didn’t let go. I found myself silently begging for him to kiss me. Even if I often pretended that wasn’t what I wanted, I would’ve given anything to feel his lips against mine right now.
Instead of leaning in, though, Owen pulled his hand back. “’Night, Devyn. Sleep tight.”
Then he disappeared into the adjacent room.
Well, I guess I lost that chance.
***
The following morning, I woke up to the worst nausea I’d ever had. Was it nerves?
It kept escalating until finally I had to run to the bathroom and hurl into the toilet.
What the hell? Was it the Italian food?
The last thing I wanted was for Owen to know I’d thrown up—because how gross. But it was loud, and my gut told me he’d probably heard.
There was a knock at the door soon after I cleaned myself up.
Shit.I straightened out my look and went to the door between our rooms.
“Hey, did I just hear you throwing up?” Owen asked, his face concerned.
I sighed. “Yeah. I woke up with an upset stomach.”
“Damn. Do you think it’s food poisoning?”
“It’s possible. But it could also be nerves about today.”
Owen pulled me into a hug. Despite feeling like crap, it was nice to be held.
“Are you okay now?” he asked.
