The comfort I feel when I walk inside disappears when I see Amy.
She spots me and stands straighter as she looks over my shoulder. “Where’s Owen?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to call him? I have his number.”
Jealousy is the last thing I should feel right now, but it’s there, churning up my emotions.
Because Owen is right; my entire life is a lie.
I dropped out of art school even though creating is a part of my soul.
I let my father box up my mother and move on because I didn’t want to upset him by admitting that I missed her every day.
I lost my virginity to the husband I’m not technically even married to.
And to top it off, unlike Amy, I don’t even have his phone number.
I close my eyes and try to take slow, even breaths. I don’t know if I want to laugh at the absurdity of my life or burst into tears.
Neither.
I open my eyes and look at Amy. I hold up the hand sporting a giant diamond ring. “Owen is mine. Lose his number.”
She gapes at me.
I turn and walk out of the restaurant to see Owen leaning against the building, smirking.
“I’m yours, am I?”
All the conflicting emotions swirling inside of me can’t compete with one growing stronger with every thump of my heart. “Yes.”
His smirk drops, replaced by a shy smile. “You were right about me living in the past.”
“You were right too.”
He walks toward me and gently takes my hand. “I think we’ve both spent too long trying to make other people happy.”
He pulls out a folded sheet of paper—the same one he was looking at earlier by the printer—and hands it to me. “It’s time to make ourselves happy.”
It’s an application for art school.
Heat prickles my eyes.
He wipes away a tear and cups my cheek. “I’m also not following through with my father’s plan for the resort. I’m thinking we can come up with a plan of our own that includes a few bed-and-breakfasts and family artwork on the walls.”
The tears fall heavier now, but I’m smiling. “That sounds perfect.”
The End
EPILOGUE
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