Page 56 of I Love You, I Hate You
Hesitantly, Charles reached out and scratched behind Luke’s ears. “Of course. He’s not half bad, this cat of yours.”
Personally, Owen felt Luke was perfect but that might be a little too gushy for his father, so he settled for patting Lily on the top of her head and making her giggle. “I like him almost as much as I like my sisters,” Owen said, and then it was a crush of confusion and bodies as they tried to get everything out the door and into the SUV with entirely too many seats for a family of four.
Their taillights disappeared down the driveway and Owen let his fingers trail idly across the granite countertop. The house was eerily quiet without the girls running around like mad, and Luke hopped from his arms to pad slowly towards the fire, where he curled up with an elegant stretch.
He was lonely. That was probably why he had agreed to house sit all the way out in Minnetonka. It made the fact that he wasn’t going out seem purposeful rather than a symptom of his listlessness. He still hadn’t figured out a way to tell Victoria the truth. He wanted to, but it felt presumptuous to email her out of the blue and confess, because that assumed she wanted to hear from Luke again, which she clearly didn’t. She’d blocked him on Twitter, and her group of friends—who used to sometimes interact with him—had all built a wall of silence around him, if they hadn’t blocked him themselves. The message was clear as a bell, and he wondered if this was his penance—to just pine for her from afar, knowing who she was and unable to tell her the truth about himself.
He flopped down onto the leather sectional, feeling absurdly small on the massive sofa, and turned on the TV. Beside him, his phone buzzed and his heart suddenly tumbled straight down into his stomach.
Victoria Clemenceaux
I still have your damn hoodie, you know.
The ellipsis appeared and disappeared several times. Victoria bit her lip, Owen’s hoodie piled on the coffee table in front of her.
Owen Pohl
And here I thought that was lost forever
She scrunched her face up, annoyed that he was being just as difficult to read as she was being. She had been hoping he would be his old self, transparent and open, while she slowly felt him out again.
Victoria Clemenceaux
I mean, I can keep it if you’d rather.
Or I can return it.
She waited with bated breath. The more she’d thought about it, the more the job offer felt like Owen doing something kind for her with no expectation of anything in return. She was still annoyed with him for what happened in court, but if the situations were reversed she honestly couldn’t say she would have done anything different.
Owen Pohl
If that’s what you want
But I’m housesitting for my dad and stepmom out in Minnetonka this weekend
Victoria Clemenceaux
So what you’re saying is I really have to want it.
Owen Pohl
That’s exactly what I’m saying
Victoria grinned to herself at how quickly he responded to her flirting. They still had some work ahead of them—she needed to apologize to him for one, and he had some apologizing to do too—but maybe they could pick back up where they were before she lashed out.
Victoria Clemenceaux
Then I guess I’ll need that address.
Owen sent it over and she put it into her maps app, slipping on his hoodie as she grabbed her keys. She wasn’t exactly being subtle here, but then again neither was he. She had never in her life driven a half hour out of town for a hookup or whatever this was, but she was justifying it because it wasn’t just a random guy—it was Owen.
The further she got from downtown the more the cloud that had followed her around for the last few weeks lifted. She had started getting ready to apply for other jobs, particularly at firms that would let her do a good amount of pro bono hours. It wasn’t perfect, but that was the way things were for the time being. She was young—she would have time to do more later. Once she bought that house for her mom she could relax a little; consider something lower paying.
The voice on her GPS told her to turn right into the driveway for her destination, and Victoria did a double take. She knew Owen was rich, but knowing it was very different from seeing it in the flesh. She’d had rich friends before; friends with summer homes or cabins up north and shiny, expensive cars that told her they weren’t at all concerned about a car payment on top of student loans, since they had neither. She’d even been to various expensive houses for fundraisers for Reproductive Justice, but all of that looked solidly middle class compared to Owen’s father’s house.
The driveway was cobblestone, for one.Cobblestone.And long—she had to sweep all the way around to the right before it curved back up to the left, the house perched on top of a hill like a castle. The cedar shingles and steeply pitched dormers made her think of movies set on Martha’s Vineyard. A memory of telling Luke about her Martha’s Vineyard misunderstanding threatened to surface, but she shoved it down. Luke had no place here tonight. Warm lights blazed from a room to the right of the front door, which was itself illuminated by faux gas lanterns on either side of the beveled glass and wood. The landscaping was barren this time of year, past Christmas and still far from the spring thaw, but she could tell it was immaculate. Orderly hedges lined the walkway, with space for what she imagined were flower beds that were riots of color in the spring and summer.
She killed the engine and stepped out just as Owen emerged from behind the front door. “Holy shit,” she called, her breath steaming in the cold air. He looked relaxed, casual; like he’d stepped out of an ad for clothing worn exclusively by people who owned boats. Which, she realized belatedly, he probably did. She looked up at the massive three stories looming above her and then back at him. “Did you grow up here?”