Page 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: TUMMY ACHE

STACEY

Owen is looking at me like, well… like I have puke on my shirt. His eyes widen as he looks me up and down. What the hell is he doing here, anyway?

“Hey,” he says, at last. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I grumble. “Millie is not, and it’s 3 am, so if you don’t mind, I need you to leave so I can go take care of her.”

His brow furrows in concern. “Millie’s sick?”

Swallowing, I nod. I’m so tired and anxious about Millie that I really don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with him right now. I need to get back to her.

“Yeah, she is.” I run a hand across my sweaty forehead. “I was just about to give her a bath, so…”

“I can help,” he declares.

I blink, caught off guard by his offer.

“What? No, that’s not necessary?—”

“Mommy!” Millie suddenly calls out in a shaky voice. “Mommy, where are you?”

“Coming, baby!” I yell back. Turning to Owen again, I say, “You should really go. I really don’t want her to get you sick.”

He appears hesitant but then nods. “All right, I’m sorry...”

Suddenly, Millie’s little feet are hurrying down the hallway toward us. She comes into the foyer wearing her little hooded elephant robe, complete with ears and a trunk. When she spots Owen, she gasps in delight.

“Owen!” she exclaims, more energized than she’s been all night.

“Hey, Mills,” he replies, smiling down at her. “I heard you weren’t feeling very well.”

She nods, leaning her head against me. “Yeah, I have a tummy ache.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He sounds so sympathetic, it makes my heart skip a beat. “I wish I could make you all better.”

She lifts her head and gazes up at him with wide eyes. “Can you stay for a little bit? Mommy was going to give me a bath, and that’ll help me feel better. Can you come too?”

“Millie, Owen doesn’t need to stay,” I say. “He can come play with you sometime when you’re feeling better.”

She turns her eyes up to me and sticks her bottom lip out in a stubborn pout. “I want him to stay now! He said he wants to make me feel better, and staying will make me feel better!”

I frown down at her and shake my head. “That’s not how this works, Millie. You need to rest. Now say goodnight to Owen and get to the bathroom?—”

“No!” Millie stomps her foot and scrunches up her face in anger. We’re both so tired, so low on patience, but I struggle to keep my temper under control as I face down her tantrum. “I want Owen to stay!”

“I don’t mind staying,” Owen interjects in a calm tone, glancing between the two of us. “If it’ll help her feel even a little bit better, I can hang out for a bit.”

I meet his gaze and sigh. “Owen, you don’t have to…”

“Come on, Owen!” Millie says, grabbing his hands and pulling him into the house. “This way.”

He steps through the door and moves past me as Millie drags him to the stairs.

“You go on and get cleaned up,” he says over his shoulder. “I’ll get a bath started for Millie.”

“Woah, hey!” I exclaim, shutting the front door and hurrying after him. “You don’t need to do that.”

He pauses on the stairs and gives me a half-grin. “I know I don’t need to. I want to. Go change, and then come find us, okay?”

Owen doesn’t wait for me to answer and bounds up the stairs. I watch him, dumbfounded, until he disappears around the corner into the hallway. Releasing a long sigh of defeat, I trudge up the stairs myself. and head to my bedroom.

“Let me at least grab a swimsuit for her,” I say when I reach them just outside the bathroom door.

“Sure thing,” Owen nods. I take Millie’s hand and walk her to her bedroom, quickly changing her into a one-piece before taking her back to Owen. For some reason, I have no concerns about leaving Millie alone with him. Even though he doesn’t know she’s his daughter, I know he’ll be good with her. I trust him with Millie, which is kind of ironic since I can’t seem to trust him with the truth just yet.

He’s got the tub filling with warm water and bubbles.

“I got this,” he assures me. “Now, seriously, go and get cleaned up yourself. We’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“All right,” I say, glancing down at Millie. “You be good, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“I will, Mommy!” she replies.

I leave them to it and go to my room to make myself feel a little more human. A few minutes later, I step out of the bedroom in fresh clothes, my hair pulled back and neat, and my nerves still on edge. I sigh, rubbing my temples as I make my way to the bathroom. The door is slightly ajar, warm light spilling out into the dim hallway. I push it open, and the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks.

Owen is kneeling by the bathtub, his sleeves rolled up, his hair a little disheveled. Millie sits in the water, her tiny frame dwarfed by bubbles. She’s resting her head against the side of the tub, her eyes half-closed as Owen gently runs a washcloth over her face.

“She’s almost done,” he says softly, not even glancing back at me. “I didn’t make the water too warm. Figured it’d help bring her fever down a bit.”

I lean against the doorframe. I don’t say anything. Seeing him like this—with Millie, with that care and focus—it’s something I wasn’t prepared for.

“She was fussy at first,” he says, turning back to her, “but the bubbles distracted her.” He smiles. It’s tender and makes my heart ache. “Classic kid move.”

I blink, trying to figure out what to say. “You didn’t have to go this far. I told you I had it.”

He nods, still calm. “I know you did, Stace, but you’ve been doing it alone all night. Let me help.”

I’ve been doing it alone for seven years, except for Gram. Nights like this one were easier when she was around. She was as much a comfort to me as she was to Millie. Tonight has only made me fully realize how much I miss her. How much I’ve depended on her support in raising Millie. Honestly, I’m terrified to do this alone. I thought I could do it, no problem, but having Owen here, taking on some of the stress and care is more of a relief than I really want to admit.

“She’s burning up,” he adds, wringing out the washcloth before gently running it over Millie’s forehead. “Reminds me of when I’d get sick as a kid. My dad always did this.”

Something about the way he says it, low and reflective, makes me take a step closer. “Your dad?”

He nods, his hands never stopping their careful movements. “Yeah. You remember that he was a doctor, right? He’d be the one who took care of me whenever I got sick as a kid. He’d give me baths, stay up at night with me, and make sure I took my medicine.”

I smile. “I hear that.”

Owen never talked much about his dad after he passed. Losing him was too painful. His mom really didn’t take it well and never fully recovered from his loss.

After his dad passed, it seemed as though Owen took care of his mom more than she took care of him. He was always careful not to upset her and to make her happy. I even got the sense that he was afraid to upset her, as if she was made of porcelain that would crack if put under too much pressure. As a result, I don’t think he ever got to properly grieve his father, and I know how awful it was for him to go through losing him. I was there and saw the toll it took on him.

Millie finishes her bath, so I help her get dried off, and dress her in pink Barbie pajamas while Owen waits outside in the hall. When he comes back in, Owen grabs a glass of water sitting on the counter by the sink and kneels in front of Millie, coaxing her to take a few sips. I tried earlier, but she refused, turning her head away with a stubborn pout. She’s happy to take it from her favorite hockey player, though.

“Just a bit more, bug,” he says softly, his voice warm and patient. “You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Millie hesitates, then takes another sip, her tired eyes never leaving his.

“There you go,” he praises, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead. “That’s my girl.”

My heart clenches so hard it’s difficult to breathe.

He lifts her into his arms, holding her gently against his chest, and carries her back to her bed. I follow silently, standing just inside the doorway as he tucks her in. The small pink lamp on her side table casts a soft glow across the room. I don’t move further into the room, curious to see their interaction continue to play out. He’s so good with her—so natural. I hadn’t expected that from him.

“Which one tonight?” he asks, pulling a book from her shelf.

Millie’s voice is barely a whisper. “The one with the bear.”

He flips through the pages until he finds the right story. He settles onto the edge of her bed and reads to her in a soft, enchanting voice. I watch from the doorframe, arms wrapped around myself. Is this how it would’ve been, all these years, if he’d never left? If he’d been here all along to watch her take her first steps, say her first words, scrape her knee for the first time?

I don’t realize I’m crying until the story ends and Owen glances up, his gaze catching mine. I quickly swipe at my cheeks and step back, but he doesn’t call attention to it. Instead, he kisses Millie’s forehead and quietly gets up.

As we leave her room, he closes the door gently behind him. The soft click echoes in the quiet house.

“You look exhausted,” he says, turning to me.

“I’m fine,” I lie, though the weight of the night presses down on me like a weighted blanket.

He doesn’t say anything, just steps closer. Before I can protest, his hands find my waist, and the next thing I know, I’m being lifted into his arms.

“Owen—”

“Don’t argue,” he murmurs, his tone firm but gentle. “You need to rest.”

It’s both infuriating and endearing. I’m so tired, I don’t resist him. I don’t want to. For once, I want to be taken care of.

He carries me to my bedroom, his stride steady and sure, like I weigh nothing at all. When we reach the bed, he sets me down, his hands lingering on my arms for just a second longer than necessary.

“Stay,” I whisper, before I can stop myself.

The request surprises both of us. But I know that, deep down, it’s what I want. I want him.

His eyes search mine. “Stace…”

“Please,” I say, the word barely audible. “Just for tonight.”

The silence stretches between us, thick and charged. He grasps my hand and holds on tight.

“Okay.”