Just a Number(57)

My eyes widen with shock, and I stare at her, feeling somewhat bewildered by her apology. “An apology’s not necessary. You were absolutely right to—”

“No,” she interrupts. “I wasn’t. I had no right to give you a timeframe on when you should tell your father or to have behaved the way I did. I’m not your mother, Amy.”

“But you’re a mother,” I remind her. “So I get it. You saw…” I pause, not wanting to voice what she’d witnessed in case my father comes traipsing up the stairs at the worst possible moment—wouldn’t that be just my luck? “You saw something happening, and you reacted.”

Carla sighs, and I sit next to her on my bed. “You’re being far more forgiving than I thought you’d be.”

I laugh lightly. “I can admit when I’ve messed up, Carla. What you saw last night…well, as I’d said then, it wasn’t supposed to happen. I was upset about what my dad had said, and we both just…” I stop talking, because I’m on the verge of crossing a line. If I give her too much information, I’m asking her to keep even more from my dad. “I needed reassurance.”

Carla eyes me carefully, one dark eyebrow rising inquiringly. “Reassurance? So this…what’s going on is…?”

“Serious?” I conclude and then nod. “Yeah. It’s, uh, it wasn’t at first, but it’s getting there.” Pausing, I look at the steam rising off my tea. “I know Dad’s not going to be thrilled, but you can’t help who you’re attracted to, you know?”

“I didn’t realize,” she says softly, drawing my focus back to her and away from my bumbling. “And you’re right. Your father isn’t going to accept this right away. This is a very complicated web you’ve spun, Amy.”

“I know.”

“But if you truly feel as you say you do, who’s to tell you that you shouldn’t pursue it?” There’s a beat of silence as I stare at her, and just as I’m about to say something, the bathroom door opens and Owen steps out, freshly showered, shaven, and his hair a damp, tousled mess.

What was I saying again?

“Owen, can you spare a moment?” Carla asks.

Owen eyes her almost suspiciously, looking downstairs as though he’s about to be Punk’d or something.

“Ethan’s got Alan occupied with the new game system he got this morning. He’s not going to be up here for some time,” Carla explains, and Owen nods, stepping into the room but staying by the door, playing it safe. “I want to apologize to you, as well.”

Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed casually in front of him, Owen looks at me, eyebrows arching slightly, and I shrug.

“As I was telling Amy, I’m sorry for how I reacted when I found the two of you. I should never have given you an ultimatum for when you had to come clean to Alan. I was just taken a little by surprise is all.”

“It’s understandable,” Owen replies, accepting her apology. “We do plan to tell him, and we really never meant for anything to happen last night.”

“I know that,” Carla says, standing up and heading for the door. “I meant what I said about keeping this to myself, but I won’t lie for you. If he suspects something and asks…”

“Then tell him,” I interject, gaining a nod from Owen. We can’t ask her to lie to my dad; that would be pushing it. “We were going to tell him in the New Year, anyway. You won’t have to keep this from him much longer.”

Carla steps past Owen and out into the hallway before stopping and turning to us both. “Do me a favor, though?” We both nod in unison, and she continues. “Tell him before he finds out the way I did. I don’t doubt that he’ll be upset when you tell him, but I think he’d be more apt to listen than he would be if he found out by accident.”

“That’s always been the plan,” I assure her quietly. “Thank you.”

Owen turns to follow Carla out of my room when she stops him. “Take a few minutes. Behave, but take a bit of time together. I’ll keep him downstairs.”

We both stare after her, stunned, and then Owen enters the room further, closing the door most of the way and holding his hand out for me. Smiling, I set my teacup down on the bedside table and take his hand, letting him pull me off the bed and into his arms.

“Behave, remember?”

“Me?” he says, sounding somewhat appalled. “Care explaining this?” He removes one arm from around my waist and reaches into his pocket, pulls out his cell phone, and turns it to me; I have to cover my mouth to keep my laugh from carrying through the house.