Although, I guess in some small, secret way I should give private thanks to Elandra Marriott Solemar being a raging, narcissistic thundercunt. Because if she hadn’t, I might not have been able to so easily win our boy’s heart.
Chapter Four
Then
I have spent the past weeks I’ve known Owen studying him, studying how he interacts with me and with Susa, learning everything I can about him. Gently testing cause and effect variables in ways that might make me a bastard but which won’t cause him harm or distress.
I need to know these things about him.
All of that pays off when, four weeks into the semester, that Thursday morning Owen is summoned—and literally that’s how I’d label it—to Orlando for a Saturday night dinner at his mother’s house.
He.
Freaks.
Out.
I’m not even exaggerating.
Owen’s terrified. All I want to do is pull him into my arms and hold him, promise to take care of him, and give him anything within my power to if he’ll just walk away from her and never look back and give himself to me.
These are all things I cannot say to him. Not yet.
While I know Susa is deeply in love with me, Owen doesn’t even know I’m bi yet, much less that I’m in love with him.
But finally getting to meet Owen’s mother means I’ll be able to study the dynamic they have in person. I mean, I’m positive she’ll be on her best behavior tonight, in front of a houseful of guests, but every narcissist has their tells, and Owen’s been beyond her direct reach for over a month.
She’s more than likely to strike at him, meaning Susa and I can finally begin the deprogramming process in earnest.
That Owen lets me set rules for him for the evening, and lets me drive us over in his car, just emphasizes how emotionally wrecked he is right now.
Susa and I are his safe oasis, his unconditional acceptance.
Love.
Things he didn’t get from his mother. Things I suspect she’s incapable of giving.
Hopefully, having me with him will only help highlight to him how sweet and easy being with me and Susa feels compared to…this.
The first time I meet Owen’s mother, the bastard extraordinaire wants to tell her to go fuck herself and spirit Owen out of there within five minutes of our arrival. That’s because upon our initial introduction, she gives me a blatantly obvious glare while looking me up and down before deciding I will do as a guest in her home that evening and then dismissing us both.
Boydo I want to tell her to go fuck herself.
I behave myself, though.
Barely.
Instead, I do play dirty and turn on the charm, calling upon my own past to roll the narcissist’s game right back at her, kissing her hand instead of merely shaking it. That initial greeting buys us a little bit of peace so I can figure out how to get Owen settled. Fortunately, we’re a bit over-dressed.
“If you want, you can leave your blazers in Owen’s room, on his bed. Owen, will you please show your friend around and introduce him?” Elandra turns without waiting for a response.
Perfect.
“First barrier—passed,” Owen mutters before leading me through the house.
His room has less personality than our dorm room did before we started moving in, but I totally get now what he meant by having more room. The room he had to himself is larger than our dorm room and has an en suite bathroom. There’s a queen-sized bed, two large dressers that would be about six of the one we each have, an armoire, entertainment center, and a walk-in closet nearly as large as our shared bathroom.
“Wow.” I shrug off my blazer and hand it to him. He neatly lays them on his bed.
