Chapter 8

EIGHT

Owen

" O wen," my mother snaps.

I look up, trying to find her in the crowd. I'm stuck in the middle with people streaming around me, and I finally spot her to the side. I make my way through the traffic and mutter an apology.

"What are we looking at?"

"Flowers, Owen. I swear, your head has always been in the clouds. We are trying to get a sense for what you like." She hands me a big round flower but immediately snatches it back. "Not hydrangeas. They scream poor. We need roses. Something classy."

"What flowers do you like?" the wedding planner asks, but mother steps between us.

"Don't ask him. He doesn't know."

"Why am I here then?" I say through my teeth.

She ignores me, but the wedding planner gives me a sympathetic smile.

I pull out my phone.

Hus-bear: My mother has hijacked this.

I notice my name after the text sent. For fuck's sake.

My Sweetest Husband: Is it bothering you?

My Sweetest Husband: Do we need to take it back over?

Hus-bear: Did you change our names in my phone?

My Sweetest Husband: I plead the fifth.

My Sweetest Husband: Do you need rescuing?

Hus-bear: how did you get into my phone?

My Sweetest Husband: you left it open last night.

Hus-bear: I don't know where I am. You can't rescue me.

My Sweetest Husband: I shared your location too.

My Sweetest Husband: I'll be there in ten. Meet me outside?

I smile to myself and turn on my heel. I find my way out to the street and Colin pulls up a few minutes later in a cherry red Porsche.

It feels a little like a fairytale.

I glance over as I close the car door. A prince in a Porsche and I can only laugh. "Who'd you steal this car from? And don't say my brother. He'd never be caught dead in a Porsche."

Colin laughs. "It's your wedding gift to me. Do you like it?"

"I thought it was my job to pick out my gift to you." I turn my head to look at him, and he grins.

"I'm trying to earn that kiss."

"And how would spending my money earn you a kiss?" Our banter is light. I don't spend money, so I don't care.

"By making your life easier, Hus-bear."

I roll my eyes.

He reaches across the space, putting his hand on my thigh. "Want to grab some lunch?"

I don't pull away from the touch. It is comfortable and comforting. Almost like Oliver's but different. "Sure. Sushi?"

"Mmmhmm. Where?"

"Park at my apartment. It's easier to walk."

"Sounds good." He navigates the streets with ease. A rare trait in trust fund kids.

"Do you drive a lot?"

"A fair amount until my parents took my car."

"Why didn't you buy yourself another one?" I raise a brow, figuring he has to have a trust fund.

"My parents cut me off."

I stare. "What?"

"It's a long story—I don't really want to get into it." For the first time, I see Colin's light dim.

"Okay." Maybe I should press. But I don't want him to feel like he has to tell me. "I guess I'm the best husband, then."

His smirk returns. "That means I can keep the car?"

"You said you bought it? Did you think I was going to make you return it?"

"This is just a test drive." Colin puts on the sweetest face. "Please, daddy."

I playfully reach across the console to slap his cheek. "Don't call me that."

"Anything you say, daddy." He winks.

We park in the underground garage and stroll side-by-side in the surprisingly cool summer day. Clouds float by, making most of the walk shady, and my mother still hasn't called. I open the door for Colin, and his brows shoot up.

"What a gentleman." I can't tell if he's putting on an act or if he's being playful.

All of this would be a whole lot easier if I understood normal human reactions. Something comes over me as we get to our table, and I want to see if I can spur another reaction out of him, so I pull out his chair.

It's even better than opening the door. He blooms like a flower, lighting up the entire room. I help him scoot in and then take my seat across from him.

"When is your brother flying back?" Colin asks after we order drinks.

"Don't you know?"

"Isaac is being cagey about it. I can't get a straight answer." He picks up his napkin and puts it on his lap.

"Probably the day before. He's already annoyed he has to leave early, so I doubt he'll come home any earlier."

"Not even for like a bachelor party?" Colin asks diplomatically.

"We are already married. We aren't having one."

"Wrong." Colin waves a finger at me.

I barely bite back a laugh. "You going to a strip club?" I keep my voice as diplomatic as he did.

"We're going to a strip club."

"No."

Colin grins. "Want me to go alone without daddy to protect me?"

I growl, but before I can say anything, our server returns. We order, and I pray he's forgotten about it.

"That's it. This is my thirteenth reason!"

Colin looks up. "Huh?"

"My fucking mother." I throw my phone and sit back, sliding down in my seat.

"What did she do?"

"She added a hundred more people to the guest list. A hundred fucking more people." I melt off the seat, ending up in a puddle on the floor, wishing it would suck me in.She insists on the reception being as soon as possible and with every day it ticks closer, the idea of dealing with the nine hundred and thirty-seven people they invited makes my skin crawl.

"How many does that put us at?"

"Almost a thousand!" I'd be comfortable browsing painless ways to die on Reddit, but Oliver keyword blocked my damn phone and laptop years ago. Oliver wouldn't let her plan any of his wedding, so she's completely usurped mine.

"What?" Colin gets up to come sit across from me on the floor. "When did that happen? Wasn't her initial list like three hundred?"

I don't want to admit to him it has been piling on for weeks and I've ignored it, unable to deal with it. But with it less than a week away, I want to bury myself alive.

"I don't know." I have to get out of here. The walls close in, and I can't breathe. I get up and leave without a word.

"Owen."

I close my door, words not working. Nothing is fucking working. I can't have this conversation with him. My world spins out, like I've sat back too far in a chair and begin the free fall I know will end with my head colliding with the floor.

But I keep falling.

My world becoming narrower and narrower.

My heart pounds in my ears, and my chest is on fire. I claw at my skin, trying to tear my ribs from my body, like more room in my chest will somehow relieve the panic.

And I know I'm overreacting. That might be the worst part of it for me. Some rational, far-off part of my brain knows what an idiot I am. I know I'm stupid and my body is losing its shit. I should be able to control my own fucking body. But I can't.

I search for my meds, throwing things out of drawers.

Why the fuck isn't Oliver here?

I stumble like I'm drunk and the floor moves away from my feet with every step I take.

My hands won't close around anything. I get my iPad and call Oliver.

"Why aren't you here?" I whisper-yell. "I can't fucking deal with this."

"Because I'm in the middle of our eighteen hour flight home. I will be there soon, I promise." Oliver's voice is soothing.

"Soon is not enough." I press my eyes closed, the walls closing in, my lungs unable to feel with air. "Where are my meds?"

My hands shake, and the tablet crashes to the floor, skittering out of reach. I can't will my body to find it. I'm barely alive. Why am I doing this? Why did I think this was a good idea? How did I not know my parents would do this?

Everyone will see through me if I show up like this.

"Owen?" a voice calls softly.

I can't reply even if I want to.

I pull deeper into myself as the blackness creeps closer.