Page 63 of I Love You, I Hate You
Her heart plummeted. “You’re—you’re—what? How?”
“I don’t know,” he said miserably. “You were in the coffee shop where Nora told me to come meet her, and when I saw the rose I knew you were her, and I . . . panicked.”
“You panicked,” she echoed. Bile was bubbling in her stomach, thick and acrid. She thought she was done with Luke, had shut him out of her life completely, but instead she went and slept with him. And Owen had known the whole time.
Because Luke was Owen.
Her mind was reeling, trying to keep up.
“I knew I would walk in and you would be disappointed, and god, I’d fallen so hard for you—Nora you, and, uh, you-you—and after our fight at the courthouse I didn’t think I could take it.”
“So this is my fault?”
“I never said—”
“No, you just did.Youcouldn’t take me being mad at you some more, so you, what, ran off? Then decided to be the hero and make me feel better about myself, even though you were the one who made me feel shitty?”
“That’s not how it went,” he said, but she was already standing up and searching for her panties. Her jumpsuit was several floors below them, but she neededsomethingon to make her feel less naked, both figuratively and literally.
“No? Then how did it go? Please, tell me, because you’ve been apparently keeping a whole lot of shit from me.”
“I did not do that deliberately,” he said, an edge creeping into his voice. “I wanted to tell you. Itriedto tell you. You were the one who said we don’t do well when talking.”
“And it would appear I’m right,” she spat. She stalked out of the room and picked up the robe. “Besides, what prevented you from telling methat night? You know, the night you realized it and then spent several hours with me, letting me believe Luke stood me up?”
“I told you, I was worried you’d be disappointed and—”
“There it is again—your feelings. It’s all about you, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t mean—”
Victoria had enough experience arguing with Owen to know she had to keep him from building up to his argument. As long as she never let him finish a thought, she would maintain the upper hand. She needed that control right now, and badly. “Tell me, do you ever think about someone besides yourself? Doesn’t it get exhausting, needing to be the good guy that damn much?”
His face twisted; she’d hit a nerve. “All of this could have been avoided, you know,” he said, roughly shoving his arms into his robe. “You were the one too paranoid about privacy to agree to meet me. But it’s not just privacy, is it? You just can’t bear to let anyone in. Are you even capable of that?”
She felt like he’d slapped her. She had let him in. And now he was throwing it in her face. She was safest behind her walls. That was the only way she knew how to open up, because—well, she honestly didn’t even know why. It was just how she was, it didn’t have to be from some long-buried trauma or childhood secret. She didn’t like people knowing her business, and when they did it was easier if they didn’t know her name.
Not everyone could be like him. Owen walked around with his heart on his sleeve and barely seemed to notice when it was bruised. Maybe it was his privilege, or maybe he was just a more secure human being than she was, but she resented that he expected her to be like him when she just couldn’t.
“I’m perfectly capable of letting someone in,” she said acidly. “But only once I’m sure they won’t disappoint me. Clearly, I miscalculated when it came to you.” She wasn’t fighting fair, pulling out fears he had confessed to her as Luke, but then again, neither was he.
“That was low,” he whispered.
“So was fucking me without telling me the truth,” she threw back. She started down the stairs, debating what would be more humiliating: going all the way to the pool room to retrieve the rest of her clothes or simply driving home in a goddamn bathrobe.
“I. Thought. You. Knew,” he spat, chasing after her. “Why the hell would you say all that shit about a job recommendation? How was I supposed to put that together?”
“Because I don’t let anyone help me,” she nearly shouted. “I don’t let that happen, and you knew it. And if you’re Luke, youreallyshould have known it.” She could feel the tears threatening but wouldn’t let them drop, not yet, not like this.
His cat jumped from out of nowhere and twined around her ankles just as she reached the second to last stair. Victoria tripped over him and nearly fell the rest of the way down, only saved by Owen grabbing her arm at the last second. His hand was sure and strong, and she hated that she still liked how that felt.
She wrenched free of him and straightened the bathrobe with as much dignity as she could muster. Owen looked at the cat and then fixed her with a glare. “You never put it together? That Luke has a cat named Luke and I have a cat named Luke? It never once occurred to you that we might be the same person?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I have never once heard you call that cat by his actual name, so no. And it’s a grey fucking cat, Owen. How the hell was I supposed to know?”
“I don’t know, but if you hadn’t lied when I asked you if you had Twitter, maybe we could have worked this out way earlier.”
“Wait, so it’smyfault you lied to me?”