“June is particular about food and fabrics and body products, too, but with her, it’s genuine care. With him, it was about superiority. He made me feel ... like my mom does sometimes. But she’s unaware and does it out of love. He did it because it made him feel better than others. Than me.” I paused, swirling my drink, watching the ice shift. “It took me time to realize that he made me feel small. Incapable. Which is why ... the tutorials ...”
Owen leaned forward. “You’re anything but,” he said quietly, his voice gravelly but steady. His gaze locked onto mine, unwavering.
His words landed deep, sending warmth through me, like pressing a bandage against a pain I thought I’d buried.
Even after all these years, he still saw me.
And I knew then, at a restaurant in a non-date, that I was falling in love with him, whether I wanted to or not. That maybe I had always been, ever since that first smile in the kitchen.
He’d seen me then, and he never ceased to.
At nineteen, I had taken a huge risk with my heart by deciding to ask him—of all people—to take my virginity. I had been desperate.
I had sworn that college would be different than high school. But a year in, it wasn’t. Guys who approached me at parties, in class, in the cafeteria—disappeared after two sentences. A result of the fact that the most basic word in English—I—started with a glottal sound, making every introduction a battleground.
Some made an excuse and walked away. Others were too embarrassed to leave, so I had to watch the discomfort settle across their faces. And that made my stutter worse.
Rejection and disappointment led me to believe I wasn’t romantic material.
Ironically, the hottest guy in my circle—Owen, the epitome of unattainable—was the one who treated me like I hoped to be treated one day.
So when he came to Simon’s wedding, stayed at our house, and was Our Owen again, I took a chance. A risk.
One I couldn’t take now.
Back then, the chance outweighed the risk. Now, it was the other way around. And I had everything to lose.
EVERYONE IN OUR HOUSEHOLDwas busy with wedding preparations. I was too, but not busy enough to be unaware of Owen’s presence in our house. He was rightthere—eating with us, helping calm my mom, joking with my father and brother, and sleeping in the room next to mine.
I found myself looking for every opportunity to be near him.
I hadn’t seen him in over two years. In some ways, he was just the same—open, friendly, funny, supportive of everyone. But in other ways, he wasn’t. He kept slipping into a British accent mid-sentence, and his changed appearance—broader, more muscular—was that of a professional footballer, even though he told us he was still playing in a second league. But something about him, something beneath the surface, told me he was going to make it big.
The idea had probably been brewing long before I let myself fully acknowledge it. But once it took hold, it wouldn’t let go, keeping me awake at night, aware that Owen was just a wall away. A door away. And with only one day left until the wedding—and him leaving the day after—time was running out.
As for courage, I took a few sips from my mom’s cooking sherry.
When the house fell completely silent and dark, I took a deep breath and tapped on the guest room door.
Owen opened it still dressed in jeans and a tee, his face marked with surprise.
We’d been chatting these last few days, but this was different—now I needed to find the right words, ease my way in, and hope he wouldn’t throw me out.
“Wedding jitters? Can’t sleep either?” he asked when I closed the door behind me and leanedagainst it.
“Yeah.”
I needed to be more expressive, bolder, if I wanted to get what I came here for.
My original plan was simple—just kiss him. But now, standing in front of him, I completely lost my nerve. Which, if I were thinking clearly, shouldn’t come as a surprise.
“So?” he asked, hands in his jean pockets, waiting for me to explain.
“I went downstairs for water and saw your light was still on. Thought I’d check how you’re doing.”
He smiled. “We already spoke yesterday, and today at lunch.”
“Right.” I glanced around, looking for another opening. “Wanna watch a movie?” I gestured toward the old, heavy TV on the dresser.
