Just a Number(46)
Celebs; they’re just like us, indeed.
The officer continues to look between us, possibly trying to figure out the nature of our relationship. Unable to take his scrutinizing gaze anymore, I reach over and take Owen’s hand in mine, being sure to go that extra mile and thread our fingers together. It’s a brazen move that I’m not sure will be fully embraced by Owen, but I want the officer to eat his words.
Never one to disappoint, Owen turns to me and smiles—and not one of those smug grins like we’ve just put this presumptuous officer in his place, but one that I’ve grown accustomed to seeing on an almost daily basis these last few weeks. This is my smile, and it’s full of admiration as it reaches his eyes. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it, my cheeks warming slightly.
The second realization crosses the officer’s face, he clears his throat, and we turn our attention back to him. “My apologies,” he tells us, his voice nervous but sincere. “Just, uh, pay attention to the posted speed limits.”
“Of course, Officer,” Owen agrees, sounding somewhat smug now. “Won’t happen again.”
Once the officer is back in his cruiser and he pulls back out onto the highway, Owen follows suit, and I pick up the ticket. It’s not too bad, but I offer to pay for half since we’re road trip buddies. After a lot of his “no, you’re nots” versus my “yes, I ams,” I win.
“That officer was a dick,” I blurt out, putting the ticket and Owen’s registration in his glove box so we don’t misplace them.
“Maybe, but it was an honest mistake,” he replies, defending the officer. “I mean, I am the same age as your father.”
I know he’s right, but I’m still pissed, and I can tell he is, too; he’s just trying a lot harder than I am not to dwell on it. Maybe I should follow his lead.
We change the topic of conversation back to the party tonight. I’m excited to see everyone again, even though it’s only been four weeks since I saw most of them at Thanksgiving. And while Julia and Stephen both live in Seattle, too, it’s rare I ever see them with our schedules never lining up.
The remainder of the trip goes by pretty quickly, and when we slip by the “Welcome to Portland” sign, Owen and I break our rule. But only for a couple extra minutes. Can we really be faulted? We’re going to have to spend several days without any major contact, so what’s a little extra hand-holding?
By the time we roll to a stop outside Dad’s house at two, we’re feeling pretty good about the plan. Or, as good as can be expected. Carla’s car is already parked next to Dad’s gray Tahoe, and the Slades are here, also. Other than Julia and Stephen, I’m not sure who else Dad’s invited tonight, but I know he usually likes to go all out at Christmas time. It’s his favorite time of year—hence why I can’t risk him finding out about Owen and me right now.
Owen shuts the car off, and I look toward the house, taking several deep, calming breaths and wiping my sweaty palms on the legs of my jeans. I tell myself over and over again that everything will be fine. I feel a light touch on my shoulder—an innocent touch that’s not uncommon between the two of us—and I look over at Owen. He looks just as nervous as I am.
“You ready?” he asks.
Smiling, I nod and unclip my seatbelt. “About as ready as I’ll ever be.”
We grab our bags from the trunk of his car and head up the front steps together. I take one last steeling breath and push the door open. Dad’s got all the decorations up, a fire roaring in the fireplace, and the tree in the living room right in front of the big window, covered in a variety of store-bought as well as hand-made (by me) ornaments that we’d acquired over the years. I take a second to let the nostalgia of the holiday pour over me, but it’s short-lived as everyone emerges. William Slade’s sixteen-year-old son, Benjamin, takes our bags from us and sets them down near the stairs, while Carla’s two kids, Ethan and Hayley, both chatter on a mile a minute about everything they’ve been doing to get ready for tonight. They’re fourteen and sixteen, respectively, so it’s hard to get a word in edgewise once they start. I just stand there and listen. Hayley’s almost-black hair is about six inches longer than the last time I saw her, now hitting her at the waist, and her honey-colored eyes sparkle as she goes on and on about her holiday so far. Ethan is usually a little more reserved, but he seems to be coming out of his shell as he joins in the conversation, occasionally pushing his fingers through his cropped brown hair.
After Hayley and Ethan leave to go help in the kitchen, Carla steps forward, wrapping me in her warm embrace before William takes a turn, and then finally my dad. I hug him just a little bit longer than everyone else because I miss him that much more.