Chapter 22

22

R ory holds my hand as we walk into Stella's restaurant. Stella is a family friend to Katy and also Owen's first cousin. It all gives me a headache. The family dynamics are next level. Still, the brunch is everything. Rory orders a massive Belgian waffle with chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and strawberries. I spend a good five minutes cutting it up for her since she can't with her cast. I order a breakfast pizza that has me moaning and groaning just as hard as I did last night with Owen.

Speaking of… the moment I catch my breath from all the estrogen around me—all of freaking Owen's family—I text him.

Me: That can't happen again.

He replies immediately.

Owen: Which part? You coming bare all over my cock, us fucking into the wee hours of the night, or you falling asleep in my arms ?

I pause. I hesitate. I chew on my lip until my mother tells me to finish my breakfast like I'm Rory's age. Did I fall asleep in his arms? Because… that's intimate. That's not the stuff of flings and easily forgottens.

I nibble on a bite of my pizza, already feeling uneasy.

Me: Maybe this was a mistake.

Owen: Too late, sweet thing. I have no plans to go back. But I do have plans to own your body again all night tonight. Good thing tomorrow is Sunday, and we can sleep in.

My face heats to volcanic proportions, and I have to take a hasty sip of my water. Thank God these women don't know how to stop talking, and no one is paying much attention to me. A quick glance around the four tables we have shoved together proves this, and I return to my phone, no longer hungry now that my stomach has imploded on itself.

Sweet thing. He's been calling me that, and I might be low-level obsessed with it.

Me: This is madness! Do you not feel all that we're risking?

Owen: I do. Don't discount that. But I've decided I want you more. Are you not there with me?

Ha. I laugh and garner a few odd looks. Am I not there with him? I am so all the way, no turning back there with him. That's the freaking problem, Owen! I decide not to go there and focus on the sex since that seems the safest territory in this minefield.

Me: I want what you promised me last night. I want you to fuck my tits and come all over me.

Owen: You're making my cock hard in front of your brother.

Me: I don't care. I want to take it down my throat the next time I see you. I'll drop to my knees. Just. For. You.

Owen: Fuck, sweet thing. You're going to kill me with talk like that.

Me: Good. Maybe that's exactly what we both need. But this can only be sex like we said. No more falling asleep in your bed or your arms.

Owen: After Rory goes to bed, be on your knees for me. I'll tell you where to go. And be prepared. I have no plans to go easy on you.

My pussy clenches and I stifle a moan, only to realize entirely too late he never addressed my point about this only being sex and no more sleeping together. The fact that he's texting that in front of my brother is so not how I thought this would go. I expected him to retreat.

Honestly, I think part of me was almost hoping for that. Like, hey, we scratched the itch, and it was good, but probably not smart to do it again.

Except I'm starting to learn that's not how Owen Fritz operates. He's too methodical for that. He works with a plan, and right now, his plan includes me.

After breakfast, we go shopping, but when you're with about a thousand women who not only like to talk but also shop and look at everything , it takes forever. The Copley Mall is packed, and my stomach is so full I can hardly stand it. The notion of shopping is almost a bit too much. Especially with the curious, glaring looks I keep getting because of my face.

That's another thing. Not my face necessarily, but Claude.

I know Owen said he would take care of it in his very take- charge, alpha-male way of his, but it's not his problem to solve. It's certainly not something I want him involved with. I was upset in front of Claude—and Rory—yesterday afternoon and it's been eating at me. I don't want him to affect me anymore. What we had is over, what he did was terrorizing, but I'm in my moving on, I've got this era. That means I need to face him and what he did to me. No more running and hiding from it.

But for right now, I sort of just want to go home, get into pajamas, and read a book or maybe play the piano for a bit. I want to relax and chill out, but I also want Owen and Rory there. All that will have to wait.

I find a cute pair of jeans and a cashmere sweater in Saks and head toward the changing area when I overhear Katy's agitated voice.

"You need to stop talking about this," she demands. Baby Willow is tucked into a carrier against her chest, fast asleep. "Not only is Rory right over there"—she points to the other side of the store from where I'm standing—"but do you even know if that's what Owen wants? He hasn't shown any interest in dating, and he is not the blind date type."

That catches my attention, and I stumble over my own feet, tripping forward and practically slamming straight into the changing room wall.

"Oh my gosh! Estlin, are you okay?" Keegan and Bianca come running over to me.

I wave them off. "Oh yes, I'm fine. Just a bit clumsy."

My mother purses her lips. "You're not clumsy. You've never been clumsy a day in your life. Are you sure you don't have a concussion?"

I can feel my face starting to heat as a half dozen women—many of them in the medical field—stare at me.

I wave them off too. I must look like I'm swatting at flies. "Oh, yes. I'm fine. Probably just something in the rug."

Only Katy isn't buying it. I can see it in her eyes. And considering how close she and Owen are, I wonder if he's told her about how we initially met or if he'll tell her about what happened last night.

"I'm just going to try these on." I hold up my stuff and then head straight into the dressing room, which allows me to eavesdrop on the small group of women consisting of Grace, Wren, Bianca, my mother, Katy, Keegan, and Rina.

"I don't see how it can hurt to try," Grace admits almost whimsically. "He's been in a much happier place over the last couple of months. This might be the right time to strike. Owen may be resistant to meeting new women, but this woman is perfect for him. She's a doctor and a single mother."

My gut clenches before it does a freefall. They're going to try to set Owen up. With someone who is perfect for him. Since I'm not.

"I agree," Rina exclaims. "She's amazing. So sweet and kind. She's one of my favorite doctors that I work with. And her daughter and Rory already go to school together."

"Okay." Bianca is all thought. "All of this is true. But Owen is Owen Fritz. That's no joke."

"I don't think she cares," Rina admits. "Her ex-husband was some sort of tech guy, and she did well after their divorce."

"Well, that's good," Grace practically cheers. "I know he worries greatly that someone will only be after him for his money the way Angelica was. But how do we set them up without making it seem like we're setting them up?"

"He's not going to like this," Katy protests.

"No," Keegan agrees. "He won't. But that doesn't mean it wouldn't be good for him to meet someone new. Someone he could potentially have a real future with."

That stings. She has no clue, but wow, did that hit hard. Just when I thought my gut couldn't sink any lower, it surprises me by plummeting into a newly formed chasm designed just for it. I have one leg shoved into these jeans, the rest of me all but naked, my eyes wide and troubled as I stare at my reflection in the mirror while listening.

"He leaves for Disney in a few weeks, so maybe after that," Rina offers.

"We can make their meeting an accident. Like Katy invites him out and I happen to be there with her," Keegan suggests.

"That's smart, Keegan," Grace agrees. "So it doesn't seem like we're ganging up on him or shoving it down his throat."

Katy makes a noise in the back of her throat. One that tells me she's not on board with that idea. "I don't want to be part of this. It goes against my code with him. You'll have to leave me out of your scheming."

"Don't you want him to be happy?" my mother asks.

"I do. More than anything. But I won't be called a traitor and lose his trust in me either."

Jealousy slices into me like a hot knife through butter. I must make a noise. Some sort of strangling and deranged or shattered sound. Because suddenly my changing room is infiltrated. I shove my other foot in and rip the jeans up my thighs, buttoning them up and then throwing on the sweater like a teenager caught making out with her boyfriend.

"Oh, Eddie, I love that outfit." Grace gives me the smile of a lifetime.

"Yes. It's definitely a keeper," my mother agrees, adjusting the sweater on my shoulder.

"We were just talking about this woman we'd love Owen to meet and get to know. But you know him. He's tricky. Do you think he'd be adverse?"

How on earth do I answer his mother? I do everything I can to keep my features even and neutral. As it is, I can feel Katy watching me like a hawk, gauging my reaction, and I can't meet her eyes, or she'll see right through me.

I clear my throat. "I honestly couldn't say. He doesn't talk to me about that sort of thing. "

Not a lie.

"Right." Grace rolls her eyes at herself in a self-deprecating way as she touches a hand to her shoulder. "Of course not. I hope that didn't make you uncomfortable. I just want to see him happy again. Settled."

"I get that. I'd like him to be happy too." It's all I've got. Even as I stare down at the jeans that suddenly don't quite seem to fit me right. Maybe that's how this is. I don't quite fit here. Owen said it last night. We're in completely different places that could never line up.

There is no way things will work out for us in the long term.

But that doesn't mean I don't want them to.

I shouldn't. And I shouldn't be jealous of this woman who they think is so perfect for him. Maybe she is. Maybe a Brady Bunch situation is exactly what he and Rory need. I don't want to be selfish, and I don't want to be in the way of him having a real future with someone.

Doesn't stop it from hurting, though. Not even twenty-four hours in, and I'm already hurting. Just great.

My day didn't improve much other than the two men in the makeup department who redid my makeup and covered my bruised face with gusto. Despite the pretty makeover they did on me, my mood hasn't improved. It all boils down to one thing.

I need to stop sleeping with Owen.

I like my job. I like working with Rory. I like living there. I don't want to ruin the good thing I have going, and if this continues, despite the lame-ass promises we've made, it'll turn bad. I know it will. He'll meet his woman, and he'll like her, and he'll end it with me, and my heart will break. I have to nip this in the bud now.

My plan is to speak with him about it, but when we get home, Jack is still there. In fact, he hangs out all afternoon, through the evening, and into the night because that's just the way things go for me right now.

"Eddie, come play darts with us," Jack calls out to me as I try to race toward the stairs and go to my room now that Rory is finally asleep. "Did you know that Eddie is killer at darts?" His question is tossed at Owen, who responds with a smirk.

"I think she mentioned it once."

Oh, did I? Did I mention it? I might be a little bitter and riled up right now. Jack and Owen opened two bottles of wine tonight, and I had my lion's share. It's not helping me.

"Careful though," Jack teases. "She doesn't like to lose."

Owen's lips bounce. He's finding that far too amusing, which frankly shocks me. Maybe his humor is from the wine like my bitterness is. "Do you bet?"

"Not unless there's something I want," I bite out, and then immediately regret it. Ugh.

"You can't be that good?" Owen challenges, lit with humor, all at my expense.

"Oh, trust me, I'm that good." I shove both of them out of the way and then go over to the dartboard in his man cave.

"Want to bet on it?"

Is he trying to fuck with me using that voice in front of my brother? "What'd you have in mind, boss ?"

The side of his mouth hitches up at my sneer. "If I win, you paint me some new artwork for my office, but you let me pay you for your work."

For some reason that makes my breath hiccup. He's talking about replacing Claude's paintings. With mine.

"You've never seen my work," I throw at him.

"I've peeked in the basement a bit. You brought home two canvases the other day. Your art is exquisite and I'd like it on my walls."

I fold my arms to stave off the flutter his words elicit.

"And if I win? "

A spark flares in his eyes. "Lady's choice."

This motherfucker is going to play like that? "Sure. Sounds good."

Jack chuckles under his breath, thinking our back and forth is simply a little friendly sparring. How wrong he is.

"Ladies first. I am a gentleman." Owen pans a hand toward the board and then goes and pours each of us more freaking wine. Soon they'll be dragging me up and off the floor. Or out of a cage fight with how my anger is brewing.

I roll my eyes. "I beg to differ on that," I grumble under my breath and snag three darts. And because I'm in a mood right now, I chuck all three in rapid fire, hitting the bullseye or the ring just around it each time. Jack bursts out laughing as he accepts another glass of wine from Owen.

"You're up."

Owen isn't smiling anymore.

I snatch a proffered glass from his hand and cross the room to sit on the couch, kicking my legs up in the air before crossing them at the knees.

Owen clears his throat as he yanks my darts out of the board. With his eyes on mine, he lets them fly, the darts going everywhere. Sort of how I did with him that night in the bar when I intentionally lost. It's killing me. All of this is.

"Looks like you won," he says without bothering to check. What is he doing?

"Fabulous."

My phone vibrates in my pocket as I take my first sip.

Owen: What's going on with you?

I glance up quickly, but Jack is now at the dartboard, saying something to Owen and paying me no attention. I go back to my phone.

Me: Nothing. Just a long day of shopping.

It takes him a couple of minutes to respond since now he's playing a round with Jack.

Owen: I can't exactly kick my best friend out.

Inwardly, I huff.

Me: This has nothing to do with Jack being here.

Owen: Then clue me in, because there's something that you're fired up about.

Me: I'm not fired up. But there is something I need to talk to you about, only I can't do it over text, and I can't do it with Jack here.

Owen: This wouldn't have anything to do with what Katy told me earlier about my family trying to set me up, would it?

I feign ignorance.

Me: I have no clue what you're talking about.

Owen: Best wishes

*Confetti pops and crackles down my screen*

Owen: With your lie.

I start to crack up. That's the equivalent of Owen making a joke, which automatically makes it funny even if it's not. I love this side of him. Even if the joke is at my expense.

"Why are you laughing?" Jack questions.

"Just reading a funny post about men's impotency. "

Jack winces and turns away, not wanting to question me further on that.

Owen: Katy knows about you and me, and she also told me about the woman they want me to meet.

Me: Why would I be upset about that? You're free to meet whomever you want.

Owen: I never said you were upset. You just did. All I asked was what was going on with you.

Oh. Well, oops.

Me: I don't care if you date the woman they all think is perfect for you. In fact, you probably should.

He doesn't reply for a moment as he loses to Jack by a landslide. Jack finds this hilarious as he comes over and sits by me on the sofa, tossing his arm around my shoulders. "What are you going to ask for?" he questions me.

"Hm. I don't know. It'll have to be something good." I scrunch my brow and look up at him. "What do you think I should ask for?"

"You should ask for a raise." Jack cackles, sipping his wine. He stands and goes for the pool table, rolling the cue ball back and forth along the felt. "Or maybe for Owen to take you with him and Rory on vacation when they go."

I choke on my sip of wine, struggling to swallow it down and wincing as it burns a path up my nose, then down my throat as I finally do.

"I'd love it if Estlin came with us to Disney. I know Rory would as well, but I don't think Estlin wants to join us."

Argh .

"Then the raise it is," Jack teases, shooting the white ball until it bounces off the walls of the pool table and flies back toward him.

"You're right," I toy, glancing casually back over at Owen. "That's a good one. Considering all I do around here, perhaps a raise is in order. Right, Mr. Darcy?"

"Mr. Darcy?" Jack questions. "You call Owen Mr. Darcy?" He laughs loudly, his head going back and everything. "Fuck if that isn't perfect for him."

"Maybe we should play poker instead," Owen suggests. "Double or nothing." He unbuttons the buttons at the cuffs of his sleeves and proceeds to roll them up to his elbows as if he's about to get dirty. Why does that have to be so hot? Why can't he look and feel and smell like a dude who had a twelve-pack too many at a tailgate party and passed out in his own vomit?

"Great!"

Jack. For real? Why won't he go home?

He has an amazing new apartment in a fun part of town. He's a single guy. If I were him, I'd be there or out doing the Saturday night single-guy thing. But no. Jack is acting like we're going to do this all night and then get into our pajamas and have a sleepover.

My phone buzzes in my lap.

Owen: Why would I date her when I only want you?

Shit. My heart thunders, and my palms grow sweaty. I glance up to find him staring straight at me with a penetrating gaze I can't ignore.

Me: You can't say things like that to me.

Owen: Why not if it's true?

He's not playing fair. Owen is older and more experienced, and I can toss out all the snark and bravado I want, but there's no scenario where going up against him doesn't backfire on me.

I stand and set my glass down on the side table. "I think I'll go up to bed instead."

"Nonsense. Stay."

"Yeah," Owen agrees with Jack. "Stay." He puts his hand on my lower back and guides me over to the round card table he has, but just before he releases me and I take my seat, he pinches my ass. Hard. Like a warning. And I have a bad feeling this night is about to turn on me.