Chapter Seventeen

Owen

Groaning, I roll over and open my eyes. Did I just imagine that or did the—yep, the doorbell did ring, and now it’s ringing again. Tossing back the covers, I get up. My mouth is dry and my head hurts.

Fuck, I’m getting old. I haven’t had a hangover in a while, which is almost impressive considering how much I drink. But chugging moonshine like tequila shots…never again. Plowing my hand through my hair, I make my way out of the master bedroom and down the stairs. Someone is standing on the porch, and I’m not in the mood for whatever it is they’re selling. Usually, I ignore solicitors until they go away, but this morning I feel like telling them ringing the doorbell around eight AM is fucking rude.

Not caring that I’m only wearing boxers—I plan to just crack the door open anyway—I unlock the front door. Instead of an old guy in a suit asking if I’ve found Jesus, Charlie stands before me.

“Hey,” I say, blinking in the sunlight. She’s the last person I expected to see standing on my porch this early in the morning.

“Owen. Hi.” Her eyes sweep over my body, reminding me I’m only wearing boxers.

“Miss seeing me half-naked in the mornings?” My lips pull up in a smirk.

She purses her lips and holds out my truck keys. “Those days are long behind us.”

“They don’t have to be.” I open the door all the way and inch toward the door frame. “And about last night,” I start.

She holds up her hand. “It’s okay. Logan stopped by and told me why you were drinking Danielle’s drinks. There was probably a better way to go around it, but it was nice that you were trying to help her out.”

My heart does a weird flutter thing inside my chest. “Was that a compliment?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Still doesn’t change anything, but at least I know you’re not a raging alcoholic or something.”

“I’m only a raging alcoholic when I think about how much I fucked things up between us. I miss you, Charlie.” The words come out like vomit and the look on Charlie’s face isn’t much different than if I upchucked all over her expensive-looking shoes.

“Owen.” Her eyes go to the ground and she shakes her head. “I can’t do this, okay? Not with everything else I have going on.”

I swallow hard, feeling like I might actually throw up now. If she says the words, it’s over. Or at least that’s how it feels. I’m not an all hope is lost kind of person. I usually get what I want. I refuse to give up until I do.

Charlie is no exception.

I can’t make her love me, but I can try my damnedest.

“Well, whenever you’re ready then, Charlie. I’ll wait.”

She hands me my keys, blinks tears out of her eyes and nods. “Take care of yourself, Owen.”

I hate how that sounds like a goodbye.

“Charlie,” I blurt. “Wait.”

She stops mid-turn and looks back into my eyes. Sunlight reflects off her shiny blonde hair, which is pulled away from her face with a black headband. She’s dressed like a lawyer today, and while her pencil skirt and blouse are very office-appropriate, she looks like she could have sauntered off the set of a naughty librarian adult film. I’m only wearing boxers and can’t risk my mind going to the gutter. It’ll be too obvious that she’s turning me on.

“Yeah?”

“Can we try dinner again? Come here and I’ll cook for you.”

Her face doesn’t show any emotion, but her eyes glimmer in the sun. “You cook now?”

I chuckle. “I do live on my own.”

“I thought your mom sent you leftovers every day,” she teases.

“She would deliver me meals twice a day if I let her.”

Charlie laughs. “She’s a good mom.”

“She is. So dinner tonight?”

“Not tonight. I’m really tired already.”

“The day just began.”

“I know.” She pushes her hair over her shoulder. “My sister’s dogs are going to be the death of me. Well, not really, but quite possibly my cat.”

“My offer still stands. You’re welcome here. As a friend.”

She smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Owen. I, uh, I…” She runs her eyes over me again and a slight flush covers her cheeks. “I need to go. I’m working with my dad today.”

“Have fun lawyer-ing.”

Her smile widens. “I actually will. I’m really looking forward to going back to work and arguing with people.”

She’s joking, but I can only imagine how it would feel to get your ass handed to you—legally, of course—by someone like Charlie. I bet when she walks into a courtroom, her opposition sees her as easy, as nothing more than a pretty face. And then the Pitbull in her comes out.

She’s always been like that, standing up for what she believes in, and she doesn’t back down or get shaken. Her sweet disposition makes her unsuspecting, and those who go against her are often not prepared.

Including me.

I had no idea how fast I’d fall for her. How deeply I’d love her. How she’d become my whole moon and stars and reason for living.

Until she was gone.

“I’ll see you later,” she says, and I like that much better. It’s not a goodbye, yet I’m still not sure I believe her. Watching her dash down the driveway and into her dad’s Lexus, I don’t step back inside or close the door until she’s out of view.

I go into the kitchen, turn on the coffee pot, and find something to eat. I don’t have to work today and should go back to sleep. My head still hurts, my stomach is unsettled, but I’m starting to think it has less to do with the booze and more to do with the feeling that I’m never going to have another chance with Charlie.

I need a leg up. Do some sort of grand romantic gesture. She said she wants me to prove to her I’ve changed, and I’m going to do it. Taking my coffee onto the screened-in porch off the back of my house, I watch the water from the fountain in the pond rise and fall.

Trading my coffee for my phone, I text Quinn to see if she’s awake. As soon as she replies, I call her.

“Are you okay?” she answers.

“Yeah, why?”

“You never call this early. You’re never awake this early.”

“Charlie just left.”

Quinn gasps. “She stayed the night?”

“No, she brought my truck back to me after driving me home and then taking herself home last night.”

“Ouch. That wasn’t your finest hour. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that. But I have a favor to ask.”

“I’m not building you a sex robot.”

I laugh. “How’d you know that’s what I wanted? Can you make it look like Charlie?”

“Gross, Owen.”

“Dean said you were able to look at Charlie’s social media accounts even though she has them all set to private. Could you possibly look at them again?”

“I can, but why?”

The sunlight reflects off the water, blinding me and making my eyes water. “I want to get her back, Quinn. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to her I’m not the same guy I was before.”

“So, having your little sister internet stalk her is your answer?”

“Technically, yes. I mean no. I invited her over for dinner and was hoping she posted about a restaurant or a meal she liked or something so I could make it for her.”

“That’s actually pretty sweet. And yes, I’ll look through her profiles. She accepted my friend requests so it takes the creep factor way down.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll text you if I find out anything. I hope this works. You two were so good together.”

“We were. And we will be again.”

I end the call, finish my coffee, and get up to go to the gym. Working out always makes me feel better. I mostly lift but decide to hit the cardio today to burn off steam, which ends up leaving me feeling like shit after waking up hungover.

I go home, shower, and fall asleep in bed watching TV. I wake up to a text message from Quinn, saying Charlie’s posted about some fancy pasta dish from the same restaurant a few times. Quinn went so far as to find a “copycat recipe” of the sauce for me and sent a bunch of wine pairing suggestions.

She’s the best little sister I could ask for.

I reply with a thanks and then get up. I try to devote one day a week to getting shit done, and it’s usually on the day I don’t work. Then the house is somewhat cleaned, groceries are stocked, and my laundry is done and, well, not folded and put away if I’m being honest. But at least the clean pile is separate from the dirty, right?

Going the extra mile today—because the house needs it, not because I’m distracting myself from thinking about Charlie—I strip my bed, put on fresh sheets and then dust and vacuum my room. I do the same to the guest room. There are two more bedrooms upstairs, but one is set up like a game room and the other is rather empty and is just used for storage. It was staged as a little girl’s room when this house was the model home for the neighborhood, and the walls are still a pale pink with an accent wall of polka-dot wallpaper.

Impressed with myself and how clean the house looks, I go downstairs, finish my laundry, and then wash dishes. I never understood when people wanted to downsize so they wouldn’t have so much housework to do, but now I get it. This house is meant for a family of four or five and has a full, partly finished basement that Logan and I converted into a theatre room the year before he moved out.

I’m mostly in the kitchen, living room, and bedroom. I don’t know the last time anyone even sat at the formal dining room table, and I don’t do too much work at home in the office. I’ve considered selling this place before, though since Logan and I bought it together, it would only be right to split the profit with him.

We got a good deal on it since our dad built it and it was a model home for a few years before we moved in. People trampled through here during several Parade Of Homes events, resulting in nicks and scratches on the walls as well as one huge scratch in the hardwood in the foyer. To this day, we have no idea how that happened, and I’ve successfully kept the mark hidden under an area rug.

The rest of the damage was cosmetic and has been fixed, and this house is too much space for me and me alone. But I like it here and it’s home, and I suppose in the back of my mind I held onto the hope that I’d settle down and start a family of my own as well. Though I knew there was only one way that was happening.

There was only one woman in this whole fucking world I want to spend the rest of my life with, and she’s—

Texting me right now?

I glance down at the preview of the text that just popped up on my phone. It’s from a number with an area code I don’t recognize. I unlock my phone at record speed to read the rest of the message.

Unknown: Hey, Owen. It’s Charlie. I ran into Quinn on my lunch break and got your number from her. Do you still want to do dinner?

I read the text three times, not sure I’m believing what I’m reading. Inhaling deep, I type out my reply.

Me: Yeah, I’d like that. What time do you get off work?

Three little dots pop up right away. I stare at the phone, heart in my throat, as I wait for her to reply. I’m pathetic, I know, but this woman gets under my skin without even trying.

Charlie: I can be there around six-thirty. Can I bring my cat?

Me: Is that code for a sex-thing?

Charlie: We’re having dinner as FRIENDS, remember? And no, it’s a “my sister’s dogs won’t leave the cat alone” thing.

Me: I don’t mind if you bring the cat.

Charlie: Thank you so much.

Me: You can thank me later.

Charlie: Don’t make me change my mind.

She sends an eye rolling GIF after that, which I top with a crazy cat lady meme. A laughing emoji comes through after that, and then nothing. Assuming she went back to work, I spring back into action, cleaning the rest of the house as fast as I can. I need to go to the grocery store, and I have no fucking idea what some of these steps in the recipe Quinn sent even mean.

I spend about half an hour watching YouTube cooking videos and then rush out to buy what I need to make dinner. With a full cart, I pass by the wine on my way to the register and grab three bottles of the red wine Charlie likes. At least that hasn’t changed. I remember the first time we snuck wine from the pantry at my parents’ house.

We were sixteen at the time. Dean, who’s two years older than me, was away at his first year of college and Weston was deployed. Logan was at his girlfriend of the time’s house and Quinn was at a friend’s house for the night. And the best part was my own parents were away for the weekend.

We’d been dating for well over a year at that time but hadn’t slept together yet. Charlie was scared of getting pregnant and wanted to wait. As much of a horny teenager as I was, I knew back then she was worth waiting for.

It was supposed to happen that night. In our teenage minds, everything was perfect…until we drank the wine. Charlie had never had a drop of alcohol before and being tipsy freaked her out. She wanted to call her sister and have her take her home, confessing everything to her parents.

Somehow I was able to convince her to just lie down with me, and instead of getting laid for the first time, she fell asleep in my arms, snoring loudly. I can still feel the pins and needles in my arm when I think about how it fell asleep only fifteen minutes after she passed out, but I didn’t want to move and disturb her. Maybe it’s a weird memory to cherish, but to this day it’s stuck out in my mind.

The next morning, when she woke up and felt silly for getting so scared about being drunk, she thanked me over and over for being so comforting to her. Her friends were impressed I didn’t try to take advantage of her, which was a little sickening to hear. That shouldn’t even be a concern. Guys should never take advantage of a woman like that.

Charlie was my world, my everything, and I wouldn’t have done a single thing to hurt her. Well…until I broke up with her.

If—no when—I get her back, I’m never, ever letting go.