I smile, but it feels a little forced. “Figured as much. Thanks again for letting me stay until everything gets sorted out back home.”
“Of course.” Alan says one more goodbye to us both, and then heads for the door. Amy and I remain silent until we hear the front door close and Alan’s Tahoe back out of the driveway.
“More wine?” Amy offers softly. It’s almost like she’s not sure what else she should say. Neither am I.
I only nod, choosing to remain silent as she refills my glass. After she recorks the bottle, I glance toward her apologetically. “I’m going to go hang out in the living room for a bit so you can get everything done.”
“Owen,” she protests, but it’s no use; I leave her alone in the kitchen.
7. We’ve Got Tonight
I debate whether or not to go after him, but I figure he just needs a minute to himself. With everything that’s happened today, we’ve both had an emotionally tumultuous afternoon.
The silence in the kitchen is deafening, so I decide to turn on the radio while I finish the pies. The next hour and a half goes by pretty quickly, and the kitchen is spotless by the time the pies are done in the oven. After I take them out to cool, I grab the bottle of wine and my glass and head into the living room to find Owen sitting in silence on the couch.
“Hey,” I greet quietly, walking around the couch to sit next to him. “You okay?”
He acknowledges me with a small smile. “Yeah. Fine.”
Things between us seem awkward—but I suppose that’s to be expected after the day we’ve had—and we remain in uncomfortable silence for a while, both of us drinking our wine and refilling our glasses a couple of times. I’m starting to feel a little light-headed as the alcohol takes effect, and I’m unsure what to say to break the silence.
Thankfully, Owen speaks first. “Amelia, what your father suggested...well, that still doesn’t make what happened okay.” He rubs his hand over his face roughly before tugging it through his hair. “God, you’re the daughter of my best friend. I’ve known him for over thirty years—I was there the day your mother gave birth to you, for fuck’s sake.”
I can feel his stress rolling off him in waves as he overthinks this. And, yes, hearing my dad suggest that Owen hook up with some hot young girl had shocked, stunned, and horrified me just a little bit. Hell, I almost cut the tip of my finger with the knife. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if my dad’s logic was sound. Why shouldn’t Owen have a little care-free fun?
“Owen”—his eyes rise to mine—“I know that this wasn’t something that either one of us expected, but you can’t deny that there’s something here.”
“It’s still wrong.”
My arms and legs feel weightless and tingly from the wine as I inch closer to him on the couch, getting close enough that my knee brushes his thigh. “Is it, though? I’m twenty-one—an adult. You wouldn’t be doing anything wrong or untoward. I want this—have for so long—and you said you thought about it, too...” I pause for a second, biting the inside of my cheek as I prepare my next move. “Can I ask you something?” He nods once, seeming unsure. “How long have you thought about me this way?”
“Too long,” he replies softly, reaching out and placing his hand over mine. My gaze shifts to where his thumb moves over the back of my hand, and I sigh as the warmth of his touch spreads through my body, traveling up my arm and neck. “Since the last time I saw you two years ago.” He laughs once, humored by something still unspoken. “It was Thanksgiving, actually, and you had brought that boy home...Nolan. I hated him—for reasons that didn’t make sense to me then.”
“Uh huh,” I whisper, turning my hand over beneath his and letting our fingers naturally thread together.
“It was only after you left to go back to school that I realized I wanted you more than I should.” I look up from our hands to find him staring intensely at me.
“Okay,” I respond. “Well, I’m not with him anymore, and you’re a free agent now...so, let’s just give in.”
“What about your—?”
I press my finger to his lips to stop him from saying the one thing that could kill the mood. “We’ll worry about that later. Who’s to say this goes beyond today—beyond right now? Why can’t this just be about two people giving in to their impulses?”
“Y-you’d be okay with that?” Owen asks, uncertainty still lacing his velvety voice. “You’d be okay with a casual tryst with a man twice your age?”