Page 51 of That Stranded Feeling

She lifts her tail and bangs it on the floor. I’ll take that as a yes.

I pick up my phone from the nightstand. There’s a series of texts from last night.

IZZIE (8:17 PM)

I bet it was HARD! *three eggplant emojis* *three cry-laughing emojis*

What’s she talking about? I scroll back to my last message that she was replying to—I’d said I didn’t know if Owen was a dick or not, and it was hard.

Yes, Izzie, hilarious.

There are four more messages after that, at varying intervals.

IZZIE (8:20 PM)

Tell me about him.

(8:27 PM)

Hey, where'd you go?

(9:03 PM)

Are you doing it again?

(10:43 PM)

You’re doing it again, aren’t you?!

I reply.

ME (7:17 AM)

I did it again.

But he’s about to leave, so it’ll all be fine.

* * *

Owen’s laughter rings up the stairs as I make my way down and find him standing in the kitchen. The sound of his joy is both delicious and heart-wrenching.

But the upset and disappointment crawling around inside me is all my own fault. There’s no one but myself to blame for this particular situation.

“Yes, Max,” he says to his screen. “I promise not to get lost again. Be on the road as soon as I can. Oh, and tell Elliot thanks for staying up half the night to do all that research. I only just saw what he sent me.”

He pauses, presumably while Max speaks.

“No.” Owen snips. “I had an early night, that’s all.”

Owen’s cheeks go a little pink as he pauses and listens before talking again. “Idoget an early night sometimes. Anyway, got to go. See you all later.”

The kettle whistles behind him. He spins around and turns it off.

“Hey,” he says as I approach, his smile sparking his adorable one-sided dimple and lighting up his ridiculously warm eyes. “I was going to bring this up to you.”

He drapes an arm around my shoulders.

I try to ignore how much it feels like it belongs there, but my hands shake a little as I open a cabinet and grab two mugs.