I blink them away as he continues to stare and I see the very moment that he recognises me. His eyes widen, and he tracks my body in slow motion, taking me in just as I did with him.
I absorb him, drinking every inch of him like I’m parched. Emotions play over his face like a film, and I desperately fight to keep mine in a neutral position.
He says something to the people he’s with, he walks towards me, ignoring anyone talking to him or trying to get his attention.
I am his one and only focus, and I am melting under his intense, green stare.
He strides across the room with profound purpose, and suddenly something wakes inside of me.
A feeling, an emotion.
It’s clawing at my throat, and I quickly swallow it.
In this moment, I’m not Kara Snow pretending to be Lucy Cook. No, IamLucy Cook, and walking towards me, getting closer and closer by the second, is the very person who abandoned me and left me in the hell house.
But he’s also the person who saved me so many times, and luckily for him, right now that emotion is stronger. That emotion that feels relief at seeing him, that finds comfort in being inhis presence again. And for the first time in years, a calmness washes over me.
And I want to grab hold of it with two hands.
My face splits out in a big grin. He mirrors it, and it’s the most breathtaking smile I have ever seen. His whole face lights up, like it did as a kid, his dimples prominently showing.
Forgetting about my bag and champagne, I close the remaining distance and throw my arms around his neck. He swiftly catches me around my waist and picks me up off the ground.
We are both laughing and as he spins me round, his voice is by my ear and he whispers, “Cookie.”
His breath warm.
The sound, the emotion, the memories, it engulfs me in a blanket, and warmth spreads over my body as I flush. My pulse quickens, and I realise in that exact moment, I’m fucked.
All those years of training, all those years of learning how to suppress emotions. All those years I’ve hidden from Lucy Cook, the person I used to be. But in this moment, seeing Owen again, I realise she’s still very much a part of who I am.
As is Owen King.
Yup.
Completely and utterly fucked.
He puts me down on the floor, but we don’t let go; my arms locked around his neck, his around my waist as he buries his head into my hair and breaths me in.
And I do the same.
The smell of his aftershave, which is fresh and sharp with a warm, woody base intertwined with his shampoo and washing powder, brings a moment of calm in the storm of my emotions.
“I think we’re drawing a crowd,” I whisper as we continue to grip hold of each other.
I pull back and grin at him.
Owen Cooper is cute. No, cute isn’t the right word. Owen Cooper isbeautiful.
Breathtakingly beautiful.
His hands are resting on my face as he stares intently at me, searching for something deep inside of me. He glances around and there are indeed a number of people looking on at our reunion, including a few camera flashes.
He places the briefest of kisses to my forehead before his hand drops from my face and grabs hold of my pinkie finger.
I miss the warmth of his touch and glance down stupidly at our intertwined fingers, my heart beating wildly at him, holding my hand in the exact same way as we did as children.
My finger wrapped around his, looking so tiny. Just like it always did.
