Page 14 of I Love You, I Hate You
“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. This was another Moment. She could feel it, and she knew this all hung on her. Whatever she decided, Owen would accept.
Victoria sank to her knees.
Direct Messages: Nora @Noraephronwasagenius
@Lukethebarnyardcat
Sometimes, I think I’m the world’s biggest idiot
@Noraephronwasagenius
Me too. Me fucking too.
Chapter Six
Victoria Clemenceaux on her knees was a powerful image. Owen was reasonably sure he was going to be seeing that whenever he closed his eyes for the next several months, and possibly forever. His house felt empty without her, her parting words ofthere, now we’re doneringing in his ears.
She’d left five minutes ago; five minutes that he spent sitting blankly in the kitchen chair, half convinced he’d imagined everything. But no, it was definitely real, thanks to the lingering whiff of her perfume in the air. Owen shuffled slowly back to his couch. He ran his hands through his hair, elbows on his knees, and tried to think.
It was the last thing he’d expected tonight and yet it made perfect sense. Victoria was not the type of woman to just let him win. He couldn’t tell you the rules of the game they were playing, but he knew he’d broken them when he left her office. He just hadn’t expected her to go that far to rectify the situation.
He wondered if it was possible to change things between them. They were already barreling down a track he knew would end in disaster. They could ignore the games they’d started to play, or at least redefine the rules. There was a moment earlier, just after he made her come with his face between her thighs, with Victoria perched on the edge of his kitchen table, where he realized he wanted to see her open her eyes first thing tomorrow morning, soft and hazy. He could have reached out and touched her cheek, coaxed her upstairs and made her fall apart on his tongue again and again until he was ready to be inside her. He could have convinced her to stay the night, work be damned. He didn’t know why he wanted it, but he did, and so badly he had started to lift his hand. But instead he let her walk out, and now that felt like the wrong decision.
For the first time in his life, he wanted to fix something and had no idea where to begin.
Victoria poured herself a glass of Pinot Noir and settled onto her couch with her laptop. Twitter was open in her browser, like it usually was, and she turned on the TV for some background noise. She scrolled through her timeline, catching up on the news and tweeting out a few random thoughts. They usually revolved around the same topics: income inequality, misogyny, and terrible TV. But right now, the show she had on was an innocuous teenage drama, with a diverse-but-not-really-diverse-enough cast and snappy dialogue, and she didn’t have much snark to share. She had a pair of pants she should probably be hemming, but she didn’t feel like it. Several Owen-less days had passed, which was a blessing in that her libido was bound to get her in trouble sooner or later, and a curse in that she’d been feeling listless and adrift ever since she walked away from him even though every bone in her body screamed for her to stay. She hated feeling like this, like there was something going on under the surface and she didn’t want to explore it. Or rather, she knew she needed to and wasn’t sure how to navigate it.
A blue number one appeared above her messages and she got the usual pleasant thrill from seeing a notification from Luke.
@Lukethebarnyardcat
Planning on tearing anyone a new one tonight?
@Noraephronwasagenius
Eh, I’m not in the mood tonight. Might not even pick any fights at all.
@Lukethebarnyardcat
No fights? At all? Not even with an MRA or a Nazi?
@Noraephronwasagenius
Not even. Idk, feeling kind of contemplative tonight.
@Lukethebarnyardcat
What about?
@Noraephronwasagenius
Real talk?
@Lukethebarnyardcat
Real talk
@Noraephronwasagenius