“And apparently Owen?” she says, attempting to hide a coy smile.
I pull back, brushing off the comment. “Owen’s just a friend. Nice to know not all men are pure vile shit like Beck.” I beam, linking our arms together as we head to Saint Street. For a smaller bar, this place sure draws a crowd when the guys perform.
Their band is called The R.O.A., literally all their first initials. Pretty basic, but not terrible. I like to think Owen could have done better.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road,” I say, pulling open the heavy door and entering.
“Tell me again why they didn’t want a record deal?” I ask Em one more time as the guys transition into an original song. The three of them are incredible, Reeve up front singing, Ali playing guitar, and Owen fucking owning the drums. Who knew I’d love the drums so much?
“No interest,” she says back, then chugs her last few drops of wine.
God, how I wish I could have one.
“They are bloody brilliant, I will say.” I lean back, watching with pride as Owen smashes through each song with ease. His eyes catch mine every so often and he smiles. I grin back and motion to all the women and men fangirling over them. I can’t be sure, but I think he rolls his eyes before getting back into the song.
It isn’t long till it’s past eleven and my body just needs a soft bed to crawl into. I say my goodbyes to everyone except Owen. He’s chatting to a brunette by the bar who appears to be eating up everything he says.
Our gaze locks from across the room, and I give him a thumbs-up. It looks as though he’s going to come over, but I hold up a hand to say otherwise.
I wink and slip out of Saint Street, trying not to read into the way my chest feels from seeing him with someone else.
It’s a day after the guys’ show when I get the call from my doctor to let me know what I’m having.
A little girl.
I sit down on the couch, attempting to catch my breath after we hang up, my fingers itching to call Owen and tell him. As if he’s got some sort of telepathy, his number appears on my mobile, and I answer the call instantly.
“It’s a girl!” I yell, unable to hold back my excitement.
“What?” he replies, seemingly taken aback. Oh yeah, I forgot to even say hi or give him context.
“My baby,” I respond. “I’m having a little girl.” I can practically hear the smile in my own voice. Pure joy.
“Wow,” he whispers. “Wow, Lottie, that really is something. If anyone will be a great mum to a little girl, it’s going to be you.”
I smile, my cheeks suddenly feeling wet, so I brush my hand across them. I didn’t even notice I was crying until now as my throat tightens and the small trickles dance down my face.
“Are you happy?” he asks, voice slightly hesitant, wary almost.
“Honestly, Owen, I was fucking petrified of having a child, but now that I’ve seen her heartbeat and know it’s a little girl, it all feels so real. Sure, I’m still scared shitless, but finally I think I can admit, yeah, I am happy.”
We stay this way for another hour, Owen listening to me like Stana or Em would as I rattle on about her. About all the things I need to do and places I will have to go. He lets me talk on and on, only occasionally throwing in his two cents.
And after we say our goodbyes, for the first time in weeks I don’t feel so alone in everything. I feel as if I’m going to be okay. We are going to be okay.
“Are you sure you can eat all that cheese?” Owen eyes my pre-dinner snack and I scowl at him, scoffing down another slice of cheddar.
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s soft cheese I can’t have,” I attempt to reply, mouth full of food.
He doesn’t respond, just goes back to his pot on the stove.
It’s been two weeks since he found out, and since then something has drastically shifted between us. I’ve taken great comfort in Owen, and our semi-friendship has turned into something much more in such a short time. I’ve come to rely on him and confide in him, and with that, he’s become a permanent fixture in my home.
Amid all of this uncertainty, our friendship has centered me when I feel as if everything is going to fly off course.
“So, I know it’s been a while, but are you sure you don’t want to talk to Stana or Em about any of this?” Owen’s voice drifts out of the kitchen. I turn to look at him, his gaze already trained on me as he taps a wooden spoon against the rim of the pot.
“I’m going to tell them. It’s more just a matter of when, not if.” I pause, running my fingers through my hair. I’ll probably have to hold off getting it done now. It’s the little things you wouldn’t even think about that matter.
“I’m not trying to pressure you, Lottie. I know you’ve got a lot going on. I just want to help you.”
I smile, rolling my eyes playfully at him as he walks toward me, our meal in hand.
“Thanks, puppy,” I tell him, taking the bowl he hands over.
“Anytime, Lottie. It’s important you keep eating good meals. I was thinking—”
The ringing of my phone cuts Owen off mid-sentence, and I lift a hand to tell him to hang on when I see the name flash across the screen. The name of the person I’ve been trying to get in contact with for weeks.
My hand stills midair for a moment, my head turning to Owen, and I catch him eyeing the phone with disdain.
“I, um, I need to take this,” I say quickly, picking up the phone with shaking hands.
“Hello?” I answer, my heart irregularly fast paced.
“Hey, Lottie, it’s Beck.”
I swallow. “Yeah, I know who it is. I’ve got your number, remember?”
He laughs through the line, and it’s forced and awkward. I hate it. I let out a breath, feeling all too aware of Owen’s presence next to me. I’m practically able to feel the anger coming off him in waves. To say he hates Beck would be the world’s biggest understatement. Being completely transparent, I feel the same as Owen. But I won’t let that cloud my judgment. Despite his cheating and his absence the past few weeks, he deserves a chance to be in his child’s life.
“Yeah, um, sorry it took me so long to call. It wasn’t exactly easy news to hear over the message bank.”
I nod, even though he can’t see it.
“I tried calling you multiple times. I obviously didn’t want to tell you over a voice message, but you didn’t really give me much choice.” There is a burn to my words, little morsels of resentment peeking through.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” His voice is flat, devoid of his usual life and charm. Perhaps I only saw those things when I thought I was helplessly in love with him. What a joke. He was pulling the wool over my eyes the entire time, putting the charm on for me like he did with every other girl. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice it.
“I know this is a lot to handle. I’m still processing everything myself, but we need to be adults about this and put our feelings for one another, no matter how bad, aside. We have a child coming end of March and even though we are not together, we have a lot to talk about.”
He’s silent on the other end, and my patience wears thin. “Hello?”