And no one knows, except me, Beck, and bloody Owen.
My front-door buzzer goes off despite the fact I’m not expecting anyone.
Who the hell is buzzing at this time?
I peel myself away from the comfort of my couch, cringing slightly at the pajamas I’m still in.
“Hello,” I call through the intercom.
“Hi, it’s Owen.”
I eye the speaker, as if he could possibly see my uncertainty.
“Um, can I come in?” His voice breaks through my mind and I reluctantly press the buzzer and walk to my front door.
After a few moments I pull the door open, Owen’s face greeting me.
“Uh, hi?” I laugh, feeling awkward and unsure.
“Do you mind if I come inside?” He lifts his shoulders and I notice the two full grocery bags in his hands. Uncertain how I can say no, I open the door wider, signaling him to enter.
“Thanks,” he says as he walks into my home. It’s not a huge space. There’s a bathroom to the left of the front door, and my bedroom is off to the right. Both doors are closed and my small kitchen is straight ahead, open, looking into the living room.
It doesn’t take Owen even a moment to get to the kitchen, where he places the two bags of stuff on the bench.
“Uh, it’s not that I’m unhappy to see you, puppy. But what are you doing here?” No need to beat around the bush.
Owen takes his attention off my modest living room. It could have a bit more character, but I’ve yet to take the time to furnish it more than the tan couches and TV. Lord knows it needs some love, but working and having a semblance of a social life take up most of my time. I can’t even imagine how it will be after the baby arrives.
The baby. It’s a sobering thought that leads me right back to Owen. One of the only people who knows about the baby. He wasn’t showing up at my house before he found out, so my only guess is that he’s here for that reason.
“I’ve been thinking,” he starts, looking down at his brown boots before returning his attention to me. “Is it okay I wear shoes in the flat?” he asks, as if he’s possibly broken some cardinal rule by crossing into my flat in shoes
“You’re fine,” I assure him. “Back to what you’ve been thinking?”
He nods, seemingly glad he hasn’t upset me. I guess his mother really did raise him right. Stana always told me behind his playboy persona Owen was a mama’s boy.
“Right, anyway, as I was saying, I’ve been doing some thinking. And…” He pauses, looking me over. “Sorry, do you want to sit down? I could make you a cuppa and some—” His forehead creases as he paces back and forth. “Perhaps a biscuit, or if you’re hungry I could throw together some lunch?”
“Owen!” I can’t help but choke on a laugh as I say his name. I don’t think for a minute that he’s stalling; he just genuinely wants me to be comfortable. “I’m fine. Let’s sit down and you can tell me what’s going on.”
I move around the couch before sitting down, motioning for him to sit across from me. He’s not a small guy by any means. Tall, golden, and I reckon under that white T-shirt, he’s probably fit as fuck. Shit. Lottie, no!
He sits and I wait for him to begin, feeling I’ve probably said enough.
“Okay, sorry, I don’t mean to come across as a worrywart. I just know how rough it can be in the first trimester. Mum was always so sick, and I didn’t want you to be standing listening to me go on and want to be sick or something.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling at his terminology. For a tall, sexy drink of water, sometimes he can sound like my nan.
“Anyway, the real reason I’m here is that I want to help you, Lottie. I know we aren’t exactly close, but it’s clear we get along. What’s also clear is you’re going through this alone and that can’t be easy on anyone. I know this might come off as weird or pushy. I’m not trying to put the moves on you or anything; I want to help.”
I sit back, attempting to process his words. I don’t really know men like Owen. To be completely honest, I wasn’t sure they existed at all.
“I’m a very vocal person, Owen. It’s rare for me to be speechless.”
He nods. “Good or bad speechless?”
Lifting my shoulders, I swallow. “I don’t know. This is a deeply personal time in my life, clearly something unexpected. Being blunt, you’re not exactly the first person I would think to call, let alone tell. It’s a lot.”
“Okay, well then, I’ll go.” He runs his hands along his jeans, his movements reeking of hesitancy.
“Okay,” I reply, still unsure what else to say.
“But before I go, I just have one question. Are you okay?”
I pause, his words catching me off guard. It’s the first time I’ve been asked that. Well, obviously, because I haven’t told a soul. I don’t have it in me yet. And I think that fact alone tells me all I need to know. So, in a moment of utter surprise not only to myself, but also to Owen, I open my mouth and answer honestly.
“No, Owen. I don’t think I am.”
“It’s okay to not be okay, Lottie. Everyone needs someone every once in a while.”
He moves of his own accord, each step drawing him closer. Once he’s in front of me, toe to toe, his arms coil around me and pull me into him.
It isn’t remotely romantic, and despite not knowing him too well, I sink into him. His fresh T-shirt smells like laundry detergent, and it’s comforting, peaceful almost. I want to crawl inside whatever has made him so calm while I can’t seem to stop the storm brewing inside of me.
His hands tighten around my back, not so much that he’s hurting me, but enough for me to feel a level of safety in his grip. Like the first few times I met Owen, I get that familiar sense of ease and familiarity that accompanies his presence.
It’s those feelings that I use to convince myself to let Owen stay for another two hours. We don’t discuss anything baby-related. We simply sit and watch Star Wars. And honestly, it’s one of the best times I’ve had in months.
“Are you ready?”
I look up at Owen, because he’s just about a foot taller than me, before nodding. The big white building looms in front of me. People walk in and out, some carefree, others crippled with fear. I think I’m stuck at that in-between phase of just feeling royally fucked, and not in the fun way.
“I guess I don’t really have a choice, puppy,” I admit. “I can’t keep ignoring this. I need to woman up, and this is the first step.”
He eyes me thoughtfully, the deep depths of blue swirling around like a torrid ocean. He’s like a Ken doll, I think to myself, but I refrain from saying that aloud. I’m sure that would only piss him off.
Over the past few days Owen’s been keeping a close eye on me, offering to help at any small inconvenience. And he’s the one who has been pushing that I see a doctor and get this confirmed.
“I can hold your hand if you want,” he offers, trying to lighten the mood. He knows that isn’t my style.
I look up at him and he’s grinning, so I shove his side. “Fuck off.” I laugh and he chuckles as we walk into the doctor’s office.