Page 5 of His Secret Wish

Chapter 2

Isabella glanced out the front window for what had to be the four-hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes. One of Owen’s conditions for this weekend had been that he would be the one to drive. It wasn’t a long trip, only about two hundred miles, which meant about three and a half hours on the road.

Three and a half hours with Owen in his truck.

Her stomach flopped around like the fish she’d caught during the one and only fishing trip she’d ever gone on with her dad and brother. The poor thing had wriggled and writhed on the dock, much to her horror, and she’d quickly scrambled to remove the hook and push the fish back into the water.

And just thinking about it made her feel an awful lot like that fish at the moment. Out of her depth, and so afraid about what was going to happen this weekend. If she was being honest, she hadn’t expected Owen to agree to the weekend away.

When he’d called to let her know he would be coming with her this weekend, her relief had been so great, she’d actually had to sit down to stop from passing out. And then, after she’d hung up the phone, she’d burst into tears for some silly reason. No matter how much she’d tried to stop sobbing, she couldn’t seem to get her body to co-operate. When the tears finally dried up, she’d splashed some water on her face and blamed her hormones. It was the only plausible explanation.

She glanced out the window again, and then at her watch. While he wasn’t late—they’d actually agreed he’d come and get her at noon and that was still half an hour away—Owen was the type of person that was perpetually early. And expected everyone else to be, too. It was why she was fully packed, suitcase next to her, standing in her foyer waiting for him to show.

Or possibly dreading him showing up. She hadn’t decided yet.

Sure, this had been her idea. But the closer the trip got, the more reservations had crawled through her mind. Could they really pull this off? They hadn’t been together, in any sort of way, in a couple of years. That was a lot of time apart. And while she didn’t expect they’d need to be all lovey-dovey and touchy-feely, they were going to have to be, at the very least, civil to one another. Show a united front.

No way they could pull this off.

She pulled her phone out of her bag. Maybe she could catch him before he got here, tell him to forget it, that she’d go alone. It would be better that way.

Just as she was about to hit the dial button on her phone, his truck pulled up in front of her little cottage. Her stomach did another shimmy, and for some reason, her cheek burned. The nerves only heightened her embarrassment, which was silly because she had nothing to be embarrassed about.

Yes, the cottage she was renting was small, but it was homey. And sure, it was nowhere near the size of the house they’d had built on the Callahan property, but that was okay. She didn’t need that much space since it was only her.

Her chest ached at that particular thought, but she breathed deeply, trying and squash the feeling. Getting all emotional about the things that had gone wrong in her life, just before she started a three-and-a-half-hour road trip with her soon to be ex-husband, was not a great idea.

Sending a silent plea that this would work, she opened the door, grabbed her suitcase, and slipped out onto the front porch. A truck door closing meant Owen was most likely headed her way. She fumbled the key into the lock with shaking fingers. And yes, she may have been using locking the door as a way to avoid looking at him.

Because even after all this time, sometimes looking at him hurt.

“Here, let me take that.” His voice was a low rumble directly behind her, and she closed her eyes. His arm brushed against hers when he reached for her suitcase, and a shiver slid through her.

She glanced at him, but he had his stupid hat on again, and she couldn’t see his eyes. The rest of his face was that annoying blank mask he’d perfected over the last decade. The one she hated with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

Without looking at her, he grabbed her suitcase and headed back. She finished locking the door and turned. He was loading her suitcase into the bed of the truck. And the way his muscles bunched and flexed underneath his shirt was just so…

No. No, no, no. She shook her head, dislodging all that absurdness. Those types of thoughts were not entering the equation at all this weekend. That was nothing but a direct route to disaster, and she was done with wading through the sludge it always left behind. From here on out, it was just a business transaction between her and Owen. They’d go, pretend to still be together, and when the weekend was over, they could both move on with their lives.

Throwing her shoulders back, she walked to the truck and slid into the passenger’s side. The truck was new—not the one he’d had when they’d split up a couple of years ago—and the little shock of disappointment that washed through her was weird.

Owen climbed into the truck, still without looking at her, which was impressive. And annoying as shit. The need to confront him, to make him acknowledge her, to poke and poke and poke until he finally let her in, told her what he was thinking, what he was feeling, welled up inside her. It had been a long time since they’d been honest with each other. Long before she decided to end their marriage.

She shook her head, swallowed down the words that wanted to spill out. Now was definitely not the right time. It would only lead to a fight, or worse, Owen deciding to back out, and that was not the way she wanted—no, needed—this weekend to go.

They pulled onto the street. The tension in the truck was immeasurable, but there was nothing she could think of that would alleviate it. Her knee bounced like it was in some sort of race, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to stop the movement.

She opened the window. Fresh air streamed in, and she felt like she could finally take a deep breath.

The quiet streets of her neighborhood gave way to the city streets. She kept her gaze on the outside world, part of her afraid to look anywhere else. It was ridiculous, she knew that, but it couldn’t be helped. After all this time, she didn’t know what to say to him.

Sadness slid through her. Never in her life had she ever expected to not know what to say to him. For most of her life, she’d never been afraid to tell him anything, no matter how mundane or weird or off the wall. And the fact she couldn’t even make small talk with him now was heartbreaking.

Good thing her heart was immune to all of that stuff.

She rubbed at her breastbone, the ache making a liar out of her.

They pulled onto the interstate. Music started playing, a recent pop hit that was all over the radio these days. She glanced over at Owen, surprise overriding the awkwardness. This was definitely not Owen’s first choice in stations—he usually listened to NPR, or, if he was in the mood for music, the oldies country station.