Late Love Page 6

  I shrug. “No. Mum kept all my baby stuff, but most of it was lost in one of their moves. We still have a few things, but not much. This little gal will be getting a whole new wardrobe.” I grin, rubbing my flat stomach.

  Owen smiles at the photo before placing it back with care and coming over to me. He loses the look on his face when he spots what we’re watching.

  “Oh God, Lottie, not Orange County,” he begs, my couch dipping as he sits down next to me.

  I grin, knowing this is his least favorite of the franchise. And I say “least favorite” because he does in fact have a favorite, although I’m sure he’d never admit it outside this flat. It’s the New York housewives, if you’re wondering. His mum, Evie, is obsessed, hence pulling Owen in with her.

  “But I haven’t seen this week,” I say, pouting. “Please, just this one episode, and then we can watch Lord of the whatever or Star Trek.”

  He nudges my leg. “It’s Lord of the Rings and Star Wars.” He shakes his head, like how could I possibly not know. It’s Owen’s little secret that he’s a nerd about superheroes and comic books. And I say “nerd” in a totally loving way; I think it’s adorable. I’m not even sure it’s something he hides. From what I’ve gathered, no one has ever bothered to really ask.

  “Anyway, we have a deal?” I turn and give him my hand, waiting for him to shake it. Finally relenting, he connects his with my own, my mind not able to ignore how instantly my body reacts to him.

  DANGER ZONE. ABORT.

  I question if he sees it too, because after I pull away as if I’ve been stung, his hand lingers for a few moments, a pensive look crossing his face.

  Neither of us says anything more as the episode begins, my body relaxing a little too much as my mind drifts off to sleep.

  The last thing I remember is being lifted from one place of comfort to the next.

  I wake up at ten the next day to an empty apartment, tucked tightly into my bed. I don’t remember falling asleep or Owen leaving.

  Instantly feeling bad for being such a dud, I pull out my phone and see messages from Emilia and Stana hoping I feel better, before I spot one from Owen.

  Hey sleepyhead,

  I let myself out when your snoring became too much for me to handle.

  I’ve got some work on the next few days, but I’ll message you.

  O

  I quickly reply, apologizing for my suckiness before pulling myself out of bed, my shift starting in two hours. Pulling off my pajamas, I stare into my full-length mirror, my pale skin bright against the darkness of my curtained bedroom. My hands can’t resist slowly moving over my flat stomach. Not even a little sign there is a tiny human growing inside of me.

  To be completely honest, the concept hasn’t fully sunk in yet. I mean, I’ve had a few doctor’s appointments and am taking care of myself, but besides that, I think I’m still trying to grasp the situation I’ve landed myself in.

  I know absolutely nothing about children, and I’m pretty sure there are only so many books one can read before needing some real hands-on experience. I am not exactly maternal. I’m blunt and although it comes from a place of love, I don’t think you’re supposed to be that way with kids.

  “Fuck,” I yell out before wanting to chastise myself. You can’t swear in front of kids; I’m pretty sure that’s the number-one rule. And here I am like a bloody sailor.

  Attempting to ignore my epic fails, I throw on some of my favorite black jeans that probably only have a month or two of wear left in them before I blow up.

  My mobile goes off next to my bed as I’m attempting to pull a yellow sweater over my head. I grab it, righting myself before answering.

  “If you called any later, I would have had to put out a missing person’s report!” I yell into the phone, sitting down on my bed as I talk to my mother.

  “Lottie, my darling, how are you?” My mother’s cheery accent flows through the phone, and I can only imagine the shenanigans she’s gotten up to. Despite my parents’ departure from London three years ago, we’ve stayed close. This is the first time I’ve heard from her in a week, so I’d guess she’s living her best life.

  “I’m good, Mum. How are you? How’s Dad?”

  “Oh, Lottie, you wouldn’t believe it. We’ve been on safari for the past week and had no service to call! I hope we didn’t worry you, my dear.”

  I shake my head, despite them not being able to see me. “I had a feeling that was the case, Mum. You and Dad off on yet another adventure.” I grin, happy the two of them can live their life to the fullest.

  “I just wish you’d come with us one of these days. You really are missed.”

  There is something about the connection I formed with my parents being an only child. I really feel as if it can go one of two ways. Either you become close or the pressure pushes you apart. I’m lucky my situation was the former. Poor Stana hasn’t been so lucky. Although my mum and her dad are siblings, there isn’t a lot of similarity between them, travel probably being the only one.

  While Stana’s parents love her, their life has always been focused on the two of them. It wasn’t abnormal for Stana to fit into their plans rather than them fitting in around hers, and occasionally they’d forget about her in full. Her mum sees what she wants to and while her dad is a nice guy, he’s just as clueless. I know I’m probably a harsh critic of them, but they let Stana fade away in Los Angeles and never noticed anything was wrong. That bothers me.

  While my mum and dad have their flaws, they’ve always put me first and taken care of me. Even now when I’m twenty-five, they still want me to gallivant with them on their global travels.

  “You know I’d love to, but I have work and commitments here, Mum. I can’t just leave it all.”

  She sighs. “Of course I understand. I’m so proud of you and all your accomplishments. I know this year has been less than ideal, but you’re coming out on top, just like you always do.”

  At her words, a tightness climbs my throat. If only she knew just how much is going on, but like with the girls, I’m not ready to tell her and Dad. I’ve never been one to overly rely on others; I feel if I want something done, then I must do it myself. This situation is no different. Plus, I know my parents—they would take the first flight home and probably try to stay here until the baby comes, and that’s the last thing I need.

  “Thanks, Mum. It hasn’t been the easiest year, but I’m lucky to have a home and great friends, so I can’t fully complain.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. How is Stana doing?”

  Mum is far too familiar with the situation between Stana and her parents.

  “She’s really good. Moved in with Ali and has gone back to uni for a master’s.”

  “Good.” I can practically hear her happiness through the phone. “I always knew it would work out for her. Things did get rocky there, but I think having you around is exactly what she needed.”

  I smile. “I think we needed one another.”

  Our call continues, Mum explaining her next dream destination, knowing her, I’m sure they will be going next year. I give her life updates, but the details all feel rather meaningless with the huge secret I’m keeping. And despite my mind screaming at me to be honest with her, I hold my tongue. Even though secrets can eat away at you, I’ll let this one take a small bit of me because I’m just not ready. Not yet, anyway.

  The week drags on, work overtaking every aspect of my life, so I don’t even have time to see the girls. It’s been hard keeping this from them, but I know it’s what I need to do right now. I attempted to call Beck again, figuring he deserved one more shot, but it’s been over a month now since he found out and his tune hasn’t changed.

  I haven’t seen Owen since I fell asleep during our movie, his work having become more intense than usual. I try to tell myself it doesn’t bother me, that I need to get used to being alone, but the pang is still there.

  It’s nine p.m. when I decide to call it a night, after a day of doing nothing. I
attempted to read a baby book but got distracted by my phone and here I am, a whole day later without accomplishing anything besides spilling dip on my top.

  It doesn’t take me long to get to sleep, my stomach no longer rioting against anything I’ve fed it. I’m finally relaxed, my body relishing in the quiet, when a loud pop pulls me out of my slumber, accompanied by the sound of water.

  I bolt out of bed like the devil leaving hell, my mind in a panic over what’s happened. Rushing out of my room, I shove my cold feet into my unicorn slippers, a gift from Stana for my birthday that she missed in June.

  It doesn’t take me long to figure out the noise is none other than a burst pipe in my bathroom, water spraying absolutely everywhere, saturating my pale pink bathmat and spurting all across the walls.

  “Fuck, shit, fuck,” I say, quickly jumping back from the mess. I may have scientific skills in life, but handy ones are out of the question. I have no fucking idea how to clean or fix this mess.

  So, despite vowing I wouldn’t call, I pick up the phone and dial the number of the only person I can think of to help. Well, more like the only person I want to help.

  Thirty minutes later, Owen’s standing in my bathroom, both of us looking at the mini pool residing on my floor. The liquid has seeped out of the bathroom and found its way into my bedroom, causing what I can only begin to imagine is a hellish list of problems if I don’t get this fixed right. Can’t mold grow this way? Or what if animals got in or bugs? My skin crawls at the thought of the long-term issues I’m going to have from five inches of water spilling out of the bathroom and into my home.

  “Well, I’ve stopped the water from coming out, but it’s going to keep leaking. You can’t stay here tonight, Lottie. I can have a mate come fix this in the morning, but no one will be around for a reasonable price at this hour.”

  I tighten my dressing robe around myself, looking up at Owen. He still looks pristine, so I know he hadn’t yet gone to bed, but I still manage to feel like shit for ruining his night.

  “Fuck,” I say, pulling on the ends of my hair, taking in all the mess that is my home. Of fucking course this shit happens. And Lord knows I’m going to need all the money I can get with this baby coming along, so paying double for someone to fix this all tonight isn’t an option.

  “I’ll call Stana,” I mumble, my feet doing a weird dance as I maneuver my way back to the dry area in the kitchen. My unicorn slippers take the brunt of the water, the little horns wilting from water retention.

  “I’m here now,” Owen says from behind me, the outside of his boots already a darkened brown from the water. “Pack a bag and you can crash at my place.”

  I shake my head, ready to protest. “Owen, I can’t do that. I’ve already put you out enough, forcing you to drop your plans to help me. God, this is all so fucked.”

  “Lottie…” His softened voice catches me off guard. I turn, finally meeting his eyes. “It’s okay to need someone else. I know you hate being helpless, and trust me when I say you’re probably the least helpless person I’ve met. But you can’t stay here tonight, and Stana and Ali are probably already asleep. We all know they’re a hundred at heart.”

  I can’t help but let a small laugh sneak through my lips. Stana and Ali are homebodies, that’s for sure.

  Owen smiles at me, warmth radiating off every ounce of him, and as much as I’d like to say “fuck this” and attempt to handle it myself, I realize the adult thing to do in this situation is ask for help.

  So instead of fighting him, I nod, then dart back to my room to collect a few things I’ll need for tonight. I see him on the phone when I come out, and he quickly says his goodbyes before we exit my flat.

  I continue on with my silence, my mind unable to avoid the meaning behind me calling him tonight. I really could have called anyone else, but I chose not to. And I’m scared the longer I avoid being honest with Owen and myself, the worse any potential heartbreak could be between us.

  Without asking, Owen takes my bag from my shoulder and slings it over his own. His tall frame mixed with the streetlamps casts a shadow against the dimly lit Notting Hill streets. My body warms from how comfortable and familiar being around him feels.

  It’s not till we’re in the cab that I finally break the silence, somehow feeling as if the darkness will protect me.

  My voice blends into the dullness of the radio, Moby’s “Porcelain” our background noise. “I do like doing things on my own, Owen. But I’m also not too prideful to know when to say thank you. So, thank you. I really don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

  Owen’s hand comes to rest atop my own, giving me his version of comfort. “That’s what friends are for, Lottie.”

  “You know, you didn’t have to kick Reeve out.” I attempt to keep a firm voice, but I can’t really be mad at him. I look around his apartment, attempting to take it all in. It really is a mix of Reeve and Owen. There is a sterile aspect to it that I attribute to Reeve, very minimalist, while the wall has a few movie posters, one being Wedding Crashers with The Godfather posted right next to it.

  “What’s so funny?” Owen comes up beside me, handing me a water while he has a beer. That’s one thing I appreciate about him; he doesn’t treat me with kid gloves, apologizing that I can’t drink and refusing to himself. I think he learned early on that would drive me mental.

  “Your posters, they’re kinda polar opposites, don’t you think?”

  He looks at the wall, his brow furrowed. “Nope.”

  “You’re telling me, someone who doesn’t even know film, that Wedding Crashers and The Godfather are on the same level?”

  “Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson are a masterful comedic duo.”

  Not able to hold it in any longer, I burst out laughing. “I’m actually not even a little bit surprised you like them. What I am surprised about is that Reeve let you put them up.”

  “It was a hard sell, but I managed.” He grins, motioning toward the couch. I walk over with him, still finding joy in Owen’s ability to positively look at life. He doesn’t give a shit if someone will judge him, and I fucking love that.

  Okay, Lottie, slow your roll.

  I sit down on his black couch, placing my water on the empty coffee table. Both definitely a Reeve contribution.

  “You think something’s going on between Reeve and Emilia?” His question catches me off guard, especially his willingness to talk about his best friend with me.

  “Um…” I laugh, unsure how to respond. “I never took you as one for a gossip session, puppy.” I relax into his couch, my body sinking into all the right parts. It feels like a fucking cloud. Jesus, I could stay here all day.

  Owen launches himself onto the other end, then moves his body until he’s comfortable. He brings his beer up to his lips and takes a sip.

  God, I wish I could have one of those.

  “Oh, come on, Lottie. Don’t play all innocent with me. I know how you operate.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice is playful, because Lord knows I’m anything but innocent. I think back to everything I did to Beck post breakup. Yep, not innocent, but it was certainly deserved on his part.

  “Okay, maybe I’m not a poster child for good behavior, but I don’t really think I’m in a position to be questioning anyone else keeping secrets right now. I mean…” I motion to my stomach, and Owen nods in agreement.

  “It’s not like I’m talking to a stranger; you’re in our group now. Emilia’s one of your best friends, Reeve’s mine—hell, both of them are like family to me. Don’t tell me curiosity hasn’t gotten the best of you sometimes.”

  I purse my lips, figuring if there is anyone I can talk about shit with, it’s Owen. He’s loyal, definitely wouldn’t tell anyone.

  “Okay, I don’t know anything, but yeah, I’ve questioned it. But Reeve is so silent and stoic, it’s hard to know what the hell he’s about all the time.”

  “That’s just Reeve,” Owe
n cuts in. “He’s actually pretty chill when you get to know him better. But lately he’s been on edge, so one can only assume it has to do with Emilia.”

  “God,” I say, leaning back, “relationships are messy—I get that more than anyone—but this seems like we’re reaching. I mean, Emilia is dating Noel!”

  Owen eyes me. “I call time of death on that.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “That’s terrible.”

  “I’m not being mean, Lottie, but it’s Em we’re talking about. She’s got too much life in her—Noel wouldn’t be able to keep up. Trust me, I went to uni with the guy.”

  “I guess you’re not wrong there. What about you, Owen? Any special ladies you’re hiding from us?” The question is supposed to be lighthearted, a change of subject from our friends, but instead I think I’ve stepped in some quicksand and despite how much I want to get out of it, I’m stuck.

  Owen’s gaze connects with my own, his smile slightly falling, but he masks it. Not very well, though, might I add.

  “I’ve never really been in a committed relationship,” he admits, sparking my curiosity that always manages to get me into trouble.

  “How come? I mean, I’ve seen you. You’re not exactly hard to look at.”

  His gaze detaches from my own for a moment, as if staring into his hands will suddenly present him with the answers he needs.

  “It’s not that I have a hard time with women. I hadn’t found anyone I wanted to bring home to Mum.” He tries to laugh it off, but I see what he isn’t saying.

  “It matters to you,” I whisper.

  His eyes find my own again and he nods.

  “You want the white picket fence and the two-point-five kids?” I lean forward, attempting to keep my voice casual, but I know I’ve pulled back a layer of Owen that not many people get the privilege to see.

  “Is it so bad to want that?” he asks me.

  I shake my head. “I think it’s perfectly okay to.”

  “I could see how people would think that that stuff doesn’t matter to me. I’ve never had a serious relationship, and I joke around a lot. It’s easier to look at a guy like Ali and pinpoint him as the one to want that stable home life. But I guess since I grew up with such a powerhouse of a mother and was so close to my brother, it made me realize pretty early on that I want that, but I also won’t settle for anything less. So maybe that’s why I’ve yet to fully commit to anyone. I hadn’t met a girl who I saw more than a weekend with.”