Page 18

18

SKYE

“I don’t want to talk to you, Owen.” I’m already in a weird mood after Lincoln’s admissions and seeing him reminds me how pissed off I am that I wasted fourteen years doing a relationship jig with Owen when I could, sorry, should , have been with Jacob all along. I think I would have been happier with him. My ever after.

“So you keep saying.”

I finally lift my head to look at him. “You look well.”

“Because I looked like shit before?”

“I already know you’re getting married, if that’s what you want to talk to me about.”

“Where the hell did you hear that? It’s not public knowledge.” Realization falls over his face. “Jay and Linc?”

I nod.

“It’s complicated,” he tells me like that’s enough of an explanation.

“Everything is complicated at the moment, it would seem.”

“How? What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” I mumble. “Anyway, if that’s what you wanted to talk to me about, I don’t care.”

He walks over to me, lifts my hand off the kitchen island, and turns me to face him. “We haven’t spoken properly for over a month. You won’t speak to me or return my calls. I know I’ve been so wrapped up in myself, but I need to know you’re doing okay.” He slides both his hands down my arms and threads his fingers with mine.

The familiarity of our relationship is easy to find in his touch, but it’s not a relationship I want anymore. Owen and I are only friends and have been for a really long time.

I screw my face up. “Why the hell would you start caring now?” I try pulling my hands away, but he refuses to let go.

“I always cared for you, baby.” He gives me his puppy-dog eyes.

“Don’t touch me. And don’t call me baby.”

He looks hurt. “What’s going on with you?”

“We wasted years together. When I could have been with someone who would burn down an entire city for me. Or pick me up from the garage when they are meant to, or have a tattoo branded into their skin that’s dedicated to me.” Shit, I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m mad. At him. Us. Me.

Stroking his chin, he watches me carefully. “I’m sorry that I never made you feel special.”

I don’t want to fight with him, and I hate confrontation. Harmony is more my jam. Conflict, not so much. Although this is probably the reason we dragged on for as long as we did. I was too much of a wimp to confront him.

“You make me sound like a prize prick and you know we shared some great times too. Don’t you remember?”

I actually can’t.

“The party at my parents’ house when we drank champagne in the bath.”

Only because his mother was pissing him off and he was hiding from her.

“One weekend I took you to the Grand National Ladies Day.”

It rained all day, and he spent most of his time talking to clients. I did win a hundred pounds on one of the horse races though.

“We were good together. You’ve just forgotten.”

He’s delusional.

“And we were good sexually, too. You can’t deny that, Skye.”

“I suppose so.”

“Give me a chance to remind you. Spend the night with me? For old times’ sake.” He cups my face with his familiar hand, the ones that have been all over my body. The only man I have ever let touch me intimately before.

The sound of the front door slamming shakes the house.

I stand, looking up into his wide, expectant eyes.

“I’ve met someone,” I tell him.

“What?” He grits his teeth.

“I’ve moved on.” He’s in no position to be mad. “Maybe you should go home to Evangeline. Isn’t she waiting there for you? Made you a three-course meal? Wearing the perfect string of pearls for you and fertile, willing, and able to spawn and expand your Brodie empire?”

“What the fuck, Skye?” His hand slips off my skin.

“You know I’m right and please, I mean it, don’t ever touch me again.” I don’t know where my inner confidence has come from. I should have had the backbone to speak my mind when I was with him.

I leave him standing there.

Walking back into the living room not expecting to find Violet, I’m surprised when she’s sitting snuggled up with Lincoln and Pom-pom.

“Did you not go out for a walk with the dog? I thought I heard someone go out?”

“Jacob left.” Lincoln pauses. “He overheard you and Owen talking.” He lowers his voice, looking awkward.

“Oh, bumheads. I have to go.” I pick up my backpack from the entryway and shout bye.

“He’s walking,” Lincoln calls.

“Where the hell is she going? And where’s Jay?” Owen asks Lincoln and Violet.

Pulling the door closed, my sneakers crunch underfoot as I kick up the gravel with my swift motion.

And then I sprint down Cherry Gardens Lane to the man who makes my heart race. The man I feel so deeply in my soul is made perfectly for me; the man I don’t ever think I can live without.