“Have you even slept a wink?” Owen asks me as he drives the rental car away from Mrs. Scott’s house. “You have these huge bags under your eyes that make you look like a zombie.”
I reach up to flip down the visor to check myself out in the mirror. “Ugh,” I grumble. “You’re right.”
“Now, you’re beautiful enough to look good in anything, but this is pushing it.” Owen veers the car to the right unexpectedly, and I find that we’re pulling into the parking lot of a hotel. “Maybe if you’re not in the childhood home of your dead husband, you can actually get some rest.”
“I don’t want to rest,” I inform him. “I already slept for days after the hospital. I just want to go home and figure out a plan of action.”
“Someone’s been watching too much Revenge,” Owen says with a chuckle. “Well, then, Miss Thorne, do you really think it’s wise to dive right back into the lion’s den immediately? Brad’s been spending a lot of time at your house lately, and if you go home you’ll be forced to deal with him with no preparation.”
“But I just told him I was going shopping and to the spa. He’ll be expecting me back soon, and I don’t want to raise suspicion. I am going to need him to trust me if any of my plans are going to work.”
Owen glances at me skeptically. “You don’t look like you just went to the spa. You look like you just dug your way out of the trenches after fighting in a minor war. Wouldn’t it be better to rest up and do your planning in a safe and neutral environment before heading back to the battlefield?”
“Safe? Am I really safe with you?” I ask him a bit teasingly, but with a touch of true anxiety.
“Always,” Owen says without hesitation.
The tone in his voice makes me pause. I turn to stare at his profile, and I am surprised by his solemn expression. His blue eyes are hard as steel, and I get the distinct impression that he really cares. It was very kind of him to fly all this way; I don’t know anyone who would do something like that for me. I don’t even think Grayson would have.
Owen pulls the rental car into a parking spot, and gives a low whistle as he turns off the engine. “This thing drives so damn smooth; it’s like sitting on a cloud and gliding across butter. It makes my car back home look like a real pile of junk.”
“It’s not about the car. It’s about the driver.”
With a small grin, Owen holds up a white wire. “It’s also nice that it can be hooked up to my phone to play music. My old car still uses cassette tapes!”
My lips curve up into a smile. “Cassette tapes? Is that some kind of extinct creature from the fossil record? Oh, I think I’ve heard of them! The same species as the VCR?”
“Shut up. I have one of those too,” Owen grumbles. “What else am I going to use to play old Disney movies from the 90s? Aladdin was my childhood hero.”
“Because he had a loyal little monkey friend to help him steal things?”
“No. Because he was a street rat who was so smart and brave that he got to marry a princess.”
Opening up the car door, I step out into the sunlight with a smile. “Come on then, street rat,” I say lightly. It’s the first time I’ve given him a nickname, even though he’s given me so many. “Let’s see if they have lodging for us in the markets of Agrabah.”
“Hey, you’re roleplaying with me! That’s so cool. All that’s missing is for you to be wearing a little blue outfit and a tiara. Then all my fantasies would be complete.” Owen reaches into the backseat to grab his backpack and slings it over his shoulders before taking out my suitcase. He shuts the doors and locks the car before following me toward the hotel. “Are you cool with sharing a room? If not, we can get two.”
“We’ve shared a hotel room before. It’s not a big deal,” I tell him softly. Maybe with him close to me, I can actually get some decent rest without gruesome nightmares.
As I begin to walk across the parking lot, I notice the growing ache in my breasts with every step. I lift my arms to try to ease the burning sensation of fullness without being too obvious about it in public. I uncomfortably cross my arms under my breasts, hugging my middle as though I am cold. When I sway slightly on my feet, I realize that Owen was probably right about me needing a little more sleep. It is also probably a good idea to empty my breasts before getting on the plane to avoid even more discomfort.
The pain is a constant reminder of everything I’ve lost, and it quickly drags me back down into the dumps and kills my good mood. By the time we enter the hotel lobby, I am no longer smiling and I am reflecting on the encounter with Grayson’s mother and everything that she told me. That poor woman.
The clerk greets us pleasantly. “How can I assist you today?” he says in a friendly tone. He is an older man with a grey beard, and caring eyes.
“My wife and I are on vacation,” Owen says, putting his arm around my shoulder cheerfully.
I groan a little and elbow his side, not really in the mood for more of these games.
But Owen ignores me and carries on. “We’ve been driving around the country for days, checking out important monuments like the world’s biggest ball of yarn. Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of money since we have to feed our twelve kids, so we have to stay in cheap-looking places like this one.”
“Twelve kids?” the clerk repeats in shock, and he immediately glances at me in surprise.
I suppose he is thinking that I look far too young to have that many children, and I clear my throat. “Three of them are adopted,” I explain with a tired smile. “Three of them are dogs, but my husband loves them so much that he considers them part of our family. In fact, I think he loves the dogs more than the kids.”
“I definitely do!” Owen declares. “Dogs don’t need you to pay for their college education and little league. Am I right?”
The hotel clerk looks around nervously before typing something into his computer. “How about you take our honeymoon suite? For the price of a regular room. It looks like you two could use some ambience to rekindle the spark.”
“We sure could!” Owen says, handing over a credit card. “Thanks for your help, my friend. When you have been married as long as we have, everything is boring. We need all the ambience we can get.”
“I know exactly how you feel,” the older man says with a sigh, before handing over the key. “At least your missus still has her figure. Sometimes I look at the cow lying next to me, and I wonder where’s that gorgeous girl I married? Buried under ninety pounds of fat, I reckon.”
My mouth falls open a little at his candid and cruel language, and I see Owen clenching his lips together very tightly to keep from bursting out into laughter.
“Thanks, pal,” he says in a squeaky voice as he grabs the key and guides me away from the front desk. When we are out of earshot of the clerk, Owen begins to chuckle lightly. “That was awesome.”
“You’re a jerk,” I tell him, poking him in the ribs. “That poor man thought you were serious.”
Holding up the key, Owen pushes the button to summon the elevator. “Well, my story got us the honeymoon suite, didn’t it? I don’t consider it lying. I consider it entertaining people. They’re strangers we’re never going to see again. Might as well make an impression!”
I roll my eyes as I step into the elevator. Owen follows me into the small space, dragging my suitcase behind him and punching in the button for the top floor. I lean against the wall, and stare at the elevator doors blankly as they slide closed.
“What am I going to do, Owen?” I ask him quietly.
“I don’t know yet,” he admits. “But before we do anything, I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” I say softly, crossing my arms across my middle again. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not taking care of yourself very well,” he points out. “For example, I can tell that your breasts are bothering you, but you are so stressed about other things that you’re not taking a moment to use the pump. It’s a pretty simple procedure; why not try to ease your pain?”
“To be honest, the pump kind of scares me. It really hurt the first time, and I’ve been afraid to try it since then.”
“It sounds to me like someone needs a doctor!” Owen suggests with a smile.
I glance at him skeptically. “Don’t be ridiculous. You just want an excuse to play with my breasts.”
“No way. I hate breasts,” Owen says, wrinkling his nose. “Yuck! It would be a tedious, boring chore for me to help you out. I’d really rather clean clogged toilets, but I just thought I’d offer my services.”
My eyes narrow and I glare at him. “Owen, you’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“You’re pretending to be extra cheerful to lift my spirits. I don’t need that from you. Not right now.” He has a wounded look on his face, and I’m worried that I’m hurting his feelings. I reach out to place a hand on his arm. “Just be real with me,” I coax softly. “I like the real you.”
Owen gives me a startled look, like a deer caught in the headlights.
The elevator makes a little ding, and the doors slide open, but Owen continues to stand there staring at me for a few seconds. Finally, when the doors begin to close, he snaps out of his daze and reaches out to trigger the sensor and make the doors slide back open.
“You want me to be real with you?” he asks me in a low voice. “I didn’t come here just to be your hero, because you seemed like you were in a crisis. I came here because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stand to be away from you for even a few hours. Letting you go at the airport was so difficult; I wanted to sneak on the plane right there so I wouldn’t have to say goodbye.” The elevator doors begin closing on us again, and his hand darts out to stop them. Owen frowns and turns back to me. “I only ever feel happy when I’m around you, Carmen. I don’t know why. Is that crazy? Even when we’re going through god-awful situations or breaking and entering into a murder house—heck, I’d probably have the time of my life if we were running errands to buy milk and potatoes. I just missed you so much that I was looking for an excuse—any excuse—to come after you.”
I search his blue eyes to try to discover whether he’s joking. He jokes about so much that it would make sense if this was just another game. But the sincerity I see there confuses and unsettles me. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him to be real with me. Maybe I can’t handle real.
“Shall we?” he asks lightly, as though instantly forgetting everything he just said. “I’m excited about this honeymoon suite. I’m hoping for a Jacuzzi!”
Owen moves out of the elevator briskly, and I am left standing and staring after him. When the doors start closing again, I am forced to step forward and into the corridor.
I don’t know how to feel about everything he just said. I want to be happy, but this situation with Brad is nagging at the back of my mind. I can’t even think about my own happiness until this is dealt with.
Besides; there is no guarantee that Owen really will choose me. I know better than to get involved with a man who’s committed to someone else. I’m not that kind of person.
But something tells me that it might be too late. Am I already involved?
No. I’m about to get into a huge brawl with Brad, and I can’t let Owen suffer the consequences. He can’t be caught in the crossfire of the crusade I’m about to start. Maybe when Brad is behind bars, or somehow permanently out of the picture, I can try to think about rebuilding my life.