Now that Big-Soccer-Star Owen was coming back from Europe, I wanted out.
Ineededout.
My mouth ran dry just at the thought of sharing space with him.
I couldn’t move in with my mom if I wanted to maintain my sanity. My brother had no space for me. And Ruby’s place was too out of the way to drive to and from every day.
With Dharma out of sight, I filmed and narrated our fully stocked shelves. “We have new tastes and old favorites. At June’s Rain, we take your health seriously.” I then shifted the camera to my face. “And if you happen to know of anavailable apartment in the vicinity, stop by our counter.” I winked and shut the phone down.
I had initiated the video marketing, though watching myself stumble over words wasn’t easy. But gone were the days when getting stuck meant my face twitching. Gone were the days I’d been mocked for it. Gone were the days Owen could steal my heart just by coming to my rescue.
Owen.
He could effortlessly charm your heart away and leave you searching for it, probably for the rest of your life. And you couldn’t even be mad at him, because he never meant to steal it. He really didn’t. Women just gave it away.
At thirteen, and with two years difference between us, I had personally witnessed him charming the hearts—and panties, too—off several girls. Even if the actual panty drop or heartbreak hadn’t happened in front of my eyes, the melting of both had.
Time hadn’t dulled his charm, looks, or effortless charisma. At thirty-seven, he was recently crowned one of the hottest bachelors in the European Champions League by the British tabloids. Which, in my book, translated to: no longer with his supermodel girlfriend. The same one he’d brought to my niece’s christening three years ago.
Back then, I’d been immune, kind of—courtesy of Bradley, my then-boyfriend. Still, the sweat stains at the armpits of my dress had been a dead giveaway of Owen’s effect on me when he flashedthatsmile. The one he’d always saved just for me. The same smile that had lit up his face—and my life—through the toughest part of my teenage years.
He had hugged me before introducing me towhats-her-namewho had legs up to here, saying enthusiastically into my hair, “Rio Mio, how have you been?”
“Great,” I had mumbled red-faced and introduced Bradley to him.
“Nice to meet you, Brad.” Owen gave him a vigorous handshake.
I cringed inside, knowing what was coming.
“Bradley, as my mother named me,” my ex said.
“Not arguing with moms. Right, Rio?” Owen said with a smile.
“That’s the big star?” Bradley asked when Owen moved away to greet my mom. “Looks like a common British soccer hooligan. And what’s with the accent? I thought he was British. And that lady friend of his. I’m disappointed in your brother if that’s his best friend. Show me who your friends are, and I’ll tell you whoyouare.”
That was the sentence I threw in his face when I broke up with him two years later.
And now Owen’s knee injury cost him the season and sent him home “to convalesce,” as the tabloids called it, in his “home away from home, with his family.”
His family these days consisted of his eighty-year-old paternal grandfather, Walter—my housemate.
“You’re leaving me all alone?” Walter had exagge-ranted when I had told him it was time for me to look for a place of my own.
“You won’t be alone.” I chuckled. “Your grandson will be here, and he’ll find you suitable help. I’m out working most days, and you deserve a real caregiver, not a stand-in.”
“I like having you here. My only grandson visits once in a blue moon, and to clear his guilty conscience, he hired a few old hags to ‘take care’ of me.” Walter scoffed, air-quoting the last part.
“He moved to Europe because that’s where his career is. He’s famous and successful and you’re proud of him, Walter! And he hired trained nurses for you, but you drove six of them away.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he groused. “I don’t need a nurse! You work in a health shop and you’re always making me eat healthy and exercise, just like a nurse, and you don’t see me complain.”
I laughed. The sweet old grouch neverstoppedcomplaining. But we got along great, though living here was supposed to be an interim solution after I had moved out of Bradley’s house.
Walter was independent, still gardened and exercised, but he needed someone to keep him company, help him with his shopping, and keep the big house in shape in between the cleaning service’s weekly arrival. In return, he taught me to play backgammon and how to win arguments by turning his hearing aid all the way down.
“What will you do if Owen brings that supermodel with him?” June asked me only yesterday.
“It’s none of my business if he does or doesn’t,” I replied.
