Page 16 of Owen's Heart

“Back in the day, your father would have been standing on the porch with a shotgun in his hand by now.” I can’t help but revisit memories of Mr. Hank.

“Yeah, he always thought that he would have to defend the barn from some type of takeover.” Owen chuckled with remembrance dancing through his eyes. “You remember that?” he asks.

“Of course, I remember everything about you and your family.”

His smile slips. “Come on inside.”

Owen walks into the small barn-style house and disappears into the kitchen with, “I’ll be right back.”

While alone, I admire the brown stucco and dark furnishings that still give off the warm feelings they did years ago. Everything is in its same place except for a suitcase by the doorway. I can’t help but admit to myself that this place still feels like home.

Owen walks back into the room with a mug in his hand, and I do everything I can to not smile when I realize what’s inside the cup.

“Here, I fixed it just the way you like it,” he says and sets the mug down on the table in front of me.

The scent of cocoa, peppermint, and warm milk waft through the air and make me lose the battle of containing my smile. I kick my shoes off and sit on the couch, legs folded underneath me.

“Are you going somewhere?” I ask.

He scrunches up his face. “No, why?”

“The briefcase at the door.”

“That’s Anson’s. He just got back from a business trip in Texas.”

“Oh.” I don’t know why, but knowing that Owen is not leaving the city makes me feel at ease. I pick up the cocoa from the table and inhale deeply from the cup.

It’s not until I notice Owen staring at me that I realize how comfortable I am here. I readjust myself and put my feet on the floor and slide back into my shoes, not willing to get caught up in the comfort of being at Owen’s home.

I set the mug of what I know is delicious cocoa on the coffee table and bring us back to the reason I’m here. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Rania, you don’t have to act all formal here. You can take your shoes off and relax,” he says, showing his obvious disappointment with the about-face I just took.

Catching myself from getting too familiar with Owen is the only way I know to protect myself from more heartbreak. “Sorry, not sorry, but I have to keep things on the appropriate level. I’m relaxed enough like this,” I assure him.

Owen lets out a long breath. “Okay, you asked me earlier if I missed you when we broke up. I told you the truth. I missed you like crazy, Rania. I did. Now, I have a question for you. Did you miss me?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. “You have to know that you’re the only woman I truly ever loved. I didn’t sleep with Chantel when we were together. When you accused me, at that time, I hadn’t even touched her.”

“What do you mean at that time? Did you sleep with her before I accused you?”

“No, I swear,” Owen says.

Relief washes over me. Thank God.

“What I’m saying is that I never had sex with Chantel when we were together.”

Why doesn’t he just come out and say he never slept with her? The vague phrases he adds to his denial only makes me have more questions.

I tilt my head to the side and brace myself for the answer to the question I’m about to ask. “What about after we broke up, Owen?”

Owen looks away from me and rakes a hand through his wavy thick dark blond hair. He wears a weary expression. “It was only a few times.”

“Fuck you, Owen! How long did it take you to sleep with her after I broke up with you?”

“Don’t do this, Rania. Leave the past in the past and just know that she never meant anything to me.”

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