It’s an act,I quickly tell myself, even as I question the madness of this morning’s kitchen antics. Which we have barelyacknowledged; him quickly retreating, leaving me standing in the kitchen, questioning my life choices.
“We have a car on the way, so if it’s alright, can we wait around in the room until it’s here?”
“Absolutely, I’ll pop my head in when it arrives.”
The detective leaves us in the small room. The air stifling. Or is that just because Owen is so close? He turns, pulling me into a full hug.
“You’re terrifyingly good at playing the innocent victim,” he whispers, his warm breath making me want to squirm.
“Hmm,” I reply, my head resting on the edge of his shoulder. “They could still be watching.”
He pulls back and takes my lips with his, kissing me. It’s gentle, it’s reassuring, it’s—fake.
“Best make it realistic for them, then.”
I grip his crinkled tuxedo jacket in my hands. No wonder Owen is getting so much support. I’m sure most of the female population of the country swoon over him.
Like I am.
“Is someone getting you a new suit? Although the tuxedo look is a lovely one.”
“Nope. Tuxedo remains, as I want to—” He stops. “Actually. Pass me the phone. Let’s do a statement outside.”
I reluctantly pass him the phone, then plop down onto one of the plain, brown chairs that are in the room.
Watching Owen be Mr Politician Man.
“Justin, we’ve just done the statement—”
I zone out, his voice fading into the background, content watching him. The new him.
The politician.
He radiates power and control, still wearing last night’s tux. Even in his exhaustion, even while mourning Jules, he looks magnificent.
“Alright. Speak to you later.” He hangs up and hands the phone back to me.
“Sorted.” He says.
“Sorted?” I echo, blinking back to the moment.
He takes the seat next to me, casual like it’s nothing. I glance over and raise an eyebrow, waiting for more.
Nothing.
“Well…” I gesture for him to elaborate.
“Well, what?”
“What’s the plan, Owen? Otherwise, how will this supposed guardian angel keep you safe?”
“I’m going to take advantage of the situation. The press conference is cancelled. I’ll give a statement here.”
“You’re going to take advantage of your friend dying?” I ask, disgust creeping into my tone.
“No!” he snaps. “Jesus, Lucy. Do you really think that little of me?”
“You just said you were going to take advantage of the situation.”
