Page 75 of I Love You, I Hate You
“Are you sure? Because it really feels like you’re expecting someone to walk through that door.”
Kimmy’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly and she touched Victoria’s arm, keeping her from twisting around in her seat again. “Nope. But you were saying the HR person is someone you could see yourself being friends with?”
“I think so, yeah. She seemed super chill, at least.”
“Mmmm,” her mom said distractedly. The DJ took over from the latest performer with his usual patter about welcoming a newcomer to the stage, and Kimmy sat up a little straighter.
“Are we up already?” Victoria asked, confused.
“Hey, everyone,” a familiar voice said over the mic. “You guys don’t know me, but—hell, I’m here because I have some groveling to do. And before you throw tomatoes at me, just know that yes, I am aware of how terrible I am at what I’m about to do, but that’s part of the groveling.”
Slowly, Victoria turned her eyes to the stage. Owen was standing there, hair falling in pieces next to his jaw like he’d just shoved it back, which he tended to do when he was nervous.
Her heart fell into her stomach. He held her gaze solemnly and lifted the mic back to his lips. “To the person I’m here to apologize to: I’m sorry. I will detail the exact manner in which I’m sorry for my actions after this song, if you’ll agree to talk to me. If you don’t want to see me again, you can just stay in your seat. But god, I miss you and I’m just—I’m so fucking sorry.” The crowd murmured quietly, and at least one man whistled.
Wave after wave of emotion crashed over her. Anticipation, nerves, a little anger, and a slow, inexorable melting that wrapped around her heart. He cleared his throat nervously. “You said once you always appreciated the grand gestures, so I hope you appreciate this, as horrible as it’s going to be.” The corner of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile, his eyes never leaving hers. “Okay, here goes nothing.”
The music for “Can’t Help Falling In Love” began and Owen let out a shuddering breath. It was the Elvis version, and suddenly she was back on the dance floor at Andy and Cassie’s wedding, swaying in Owen’s arms and wanting to tell him how she felt. He made it okay through the intro, mostly just swaying and smiling nervously. Within a couple of words of the first line, however, the crowd was laughing.
But Owen just grinned and kept going, even though it appeared he had no idea what the melody was, or really what “singing” was supposed to sound like. It wasn’t even a particularly difficult melody to sing but even this was out of his abilities. He hit the first chorus and the crowd whooped, clapping as he struck a defiant pose and bravely slaughtered the notes.
She kept her face as neutral as possible and cast a sidelong glance at her mother. Kimmy was beaming, and the pieces fell into place. “You set this up?” Victoria whispered. It was hardly necessary to keep her voice down, since the din of Owen’s screeching and the crowd’s laughter was drowning out just about everything else.
“He did. He contacted me and asked if I thought it would be okay. Is it?”
Onstage, Owen reached the last verse and absolutely whiffed it. Victoria gave up and snorted. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
“You seemed open to reconciliation, so when he messaged me on Facebook, I agreed. Plus—I felt him out first. He seemed genuine, if his apology to me is anything to go by. I think if you’re willing to listen to him, you’ll like what he has to say.”
Owen finished with a painful flourish and took a bow, but the moment he stood back up his eyes found hers again and her heart stopped. Here was her Moment—she could accept his apology, or she could shut the door on them completely. He looked positively scared in a way she rarely associated with him. He was so brave usually, so optimistic, that the fear in his eyes stood out.
Whatever tiny bit of reservation she had shattered. She stood up and the bar-goers turned to look at her, a few titters and cheers skittering through the crowd. She walked to the stage, keeping her face impassive. Owen lifted an eyebrow, still worried, and she took the microphone from his hands. “Hey there,” she said drily, and the crowd chuckled. “How about this—I promise to listen to you apologize if you promise to never, ever make us listen to you sing again?”
“Make sure he’s worth it, honey!” a woman yelled from the bar, and Victoria let a grin play on her lips.
“Well, I figure I’ll let him grovel for a bit and then decide, how does that sound?” she said, and the crowd roared their approval. She watched Owen’s shoulders loosen and tipped her head towards the door.
Applause followed them out.
Owen waited until the door closed behind them to look at her. His heart was still racing and his chest felt like it was surrounded by iron bands. He’d done his best to project an aura of bravado, but part of him had been petrified since the moment he decided to do it. Mark had even helped him practice, even though they both knew it was a lost cause.Just, uh, make sure she knows you’re aware how shitty you are at this, had been Mark’s parting advice.So she doesn’t think you’re like . . . proud of your singing. That’d be bad, and delusional. But good luck, man.
Suddenly, her lips were on his. “You’re fucking terrible at that,” she whispered against his mouth. “You can’t ever sing in front of humans again.”
Owen’s arms snapped around her waist and he nearly lifted her from the gravel. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth hot and warm and welcoming, and his heart was singing. “Aren’t I supposed to apologize now?” he mumbled when he came up for air.
“Later. Kiss first, apologize second,” she ordered, and as always, he was helpless to resist. She tasted like vodka and he couldn’t help but remember the first time they kissed, half-drunk and sniping at each other. At the time he’d thought it was a one-off thing, not something that would shake the foundations of his world. Her hair slipped through his fingers, soft and silky, and he nipped at her lower lip playfully. She had him pinned against the outdoor wall of the bar, and if he didn’t lower the temperature between them soon he’d end up doing something they might regret, like fucking her right here while her mom waited inside.
Victoria seemed to have the same thought. She pried herself out of his grasp, lips pleasantly swollen, and crossed her arms against the spring chill. “Okay, now you can apologize,” she declared.
Owen laughed and then did his best to pull a straight face. “For how much?”
“All of it,” she said, with just a hint of warning in her voice. But her eyes were warm and her fingers flexed against her biceps, like she was itching to reach out for him.
“Okay, obviously, I should have just come into the coffee shop the night I realized you were Nora. I owed you the truth up-front, and I totally fucked it up. And I really shouldn’t have gone on a date with you that night without telling you the truth, and I really, really, really should have insisted we have an actual conversation about things before we had sex again, instead of just like, hoping you’d magically found out and I didn’t have to say anything.”
Her hand twitched again. “Keep going.”
“I should have told you the truth a hundred times, and I didn’t. There’s no excuse for that. And if you’ll forgive me, I promise to always be honest with you, right away. Even if it makes me the bad guy. And if I get this one, I won’t expect any second chances ever again.”