Page 79 of Sparks Still Fly

Owen James is devastating on a good day, with his worn jeans and tight T-shirts that leave no muscle on his taut body to the imagination. Owen James wearing all that, smiling, and holding a baby? Catastrophic. Disastrous. Fatal. To my panties, that is.

He catches me staring and somehow, his smile grows even wider, then he looks down at a sleeping Julia in his arms and when he looks up, there are tears in his eyes. Actual tears. I will play back this moment in slow motion in my mind again and again for years to come. I just know it.

“You all right?” I lay a hand on his forearm and take a peek at the little bundle who’s finally fallen asleep in his arms.

“Yeah. Yeah. I just think Clay and Monica would be really happy she’s here. You know?” He sniffles, and I can’t help it, I do too. This little girl started out life with such tragedy, losing both parents before she even got to lay eyes on either of them. And now, she's here, about to start a life with a man who will be the best father he can be.

Standing here now, seeing his devotion to her, and knowing exactly how he feels about me, I almost wonder if it’s not too late for that dream I had once upon a time to become a reality.

The thought of raising children with Owen feels…consequential, weighty in a way I hadn’t experienced when I let go of my hopes of ever being with him. I think it’s because he’s so very loving, so kind, and open with his feelings, while I feel like I’m still sorting myself out in a lot of ways. That makes me feel like maybe I’m not enough yet. Like maybe he was given this responsibility for a reason. Because I didn’t grow up with the same kind of warmth and unconditional love he was surrounded by.

My childhood home wasn’t filled with warm hugs, a mum who made my favorite foods, and a dad who was proud of everything I did, no matter how small. No. My house was nothing but a shelter for Char and me. It had a revolving door of men whose only qualifier for being there was how much money they were willing to give my mum until either they got bored of her or she was done with them. It was a place where the children had to parent themselves. Where two sisters learned to lean on one another at the tender age of three, because there was no one else.

This is so not the time for these thoughts.

“Of course they’d be happy, darling. They chose you for a reason.” He hums a response, and I’m not even sure he heard me because he’s already busy staring at Julia’s changing facial expressions again. I can’t say I blame him.

“It’s really beautiful out. Do you want to come sit out on the deck? I can put Julia in that little basket thing my mom got for her, or we can just hold her? Do you think she’d like that? What do you think is better for her?” His eyes dart back and forth between my face and hers.

My god, he’s adorable.

“I think she looks perfectly content in your arms, O. But why don’t I get the portable bassinet and bring it out with us, just in case?” His creased forehead relaxes at my question, and he nods. “I’ll see you out there in a minute.”

Owen is quietly speaking to Julia when I walk out to the back deck. They’re swinging on the big swing that I’ve been meaning to come sit on but haven’t had a chance to until now. I set the bassinet down beside me and then sit, joining them both in the gentle swinging.

“This is nice. I can’t believe I’ve never come out here before.” I look out at the mountains, noting that here, signs of spring are much more obvious than in LA. The colors are getting brighter, and it’s nice to see things growing, flowers blooming. There’s a field of lavender off to the side, and the smell is drifting over to where we are. It’s perfect.

“Wait until you see the sunset. It’s a pretty great view from out here.” He looks up at me briefly, but he’s only got eyes for Julia right now.

And I’m not so sure the view can get better than this, to be honest.

“She seems to have settled a bit.” I lay a gentle hand on Julia’s back. She’s lying on Owen’s chest, as it seems to be her favorite spot these past few hours.

“Yeah. She’s still squirmy and not really sleeping for long. Maybe she can sense a new place? New people? I don’t know.” He kisses the top of her head. The movement is natural, as if he’s done it a million times before. “I just hope she feels safe enough here to rest, you know? Babies are supposed to sleep a lot, and she’s been so restless.”

“I’m sure she feels safe, O. Look at her, all tucked into your chest. It’s a very safe and comfortable place to be. Trust me.” I look up at him, and my lips involuntarily curl into a smile. As I meet his gaze, I see that he is also smiling, his dimples deepening and eyes crinkling in response to mine.

As the sun begins its descent, Owen cradles Julia in his arms. They both exude a sense of calm and contentment, seeming much more at ease in each other’s company.

When it’s finally dark, we go back inside, and Owen sets her down in her crib. I can tell it’s difficult for him to leave the room, but he does—with the monitor in a tight grip in his hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even let you hold her. I just feel like I’ve missed so much time with her already, and?—”

“It’s all right, O. I know you two haven’t had the opportunity to bond yet, and I don’t mind seeing you snuggle a baby.” I place a reassuring hand on his forearm, and he leans into me, running his fingers through my hair.

“I feel like we should talk about this. We haven’t really discussed how we’re going to do this now that Julia’s home. And I’m sorry that I haven’t brought it up before now. We’ve kind of gone from zero to a hundred.” His touch is soothing, but something in his tone has the blood running a little colder in my veins. “I know this wasn’t part of whatever plans you had for yourself. I understand your career is demanding, so?—”

Owen doesn’t get to finish his thought because Julia’s screaming interrupts him. We both rush into her room, and Owen scoops her up.

“She must be hungry. She didn’t eat very much last time I gave her a bottle. Do you mind holding her while I get another one ready?” I take Julia in my arms, her little face already turning red from crying. All the bobbing and shushing isn’t working as we wait for Owen to get back.

The minutes feel like hours, and when he comes back, he gently touches the bottle to her lips and she happily takes it, seeming to calm almost instantly. Her brown eyes pop open and latch onto mine, making my heart lurch inside my rib cage.

“There you are, poppet. Was someone feeling hangry? Hmm? I understand. I’m not very nice on an empty stomach either, you know?” She makes a rather satisfied gurgling noise as she gulps down the bottle, and I laugh, looking up to find Owen watching us.

His eyes are glistening, and his lips part as he takes a deep breath in. I’d like to tell myself he’s looking at me like that because he sees our future like this, raising kids together. I’d like to believe that the reason that tears are about to roll down his cheeks is because he wants this life with me, even if it’s not starting the way either of us initially pictured it. But my dumb brain gives my heart a swift kick into reality. Maybe he looks like he’s about to cry because it’s sinking in that I’ll never be able to be a present mum with the way I work. Maybe this look is nothing more than deep disappointment in what is versus what could have been.

He takes a step toward us, and Julia shakes her head, spilling some milk on her cheeks as she goes back to crying, but this time it’s more of a screechy scream than a regular cry. Owen’s eyebrows bunch up and he wipes at my face quickly before cleaning up the formula on Julia’s cheek and neck.

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