Page 49 of Sparks Still Fly

“Could have fooled me.” His own gaze moves to where mine just was, but I don’t take the time to drink in the expression on his face. I spin on my heels and saunter out of the bathroom.

“Well, you gotta give me a minute!” I chuckle at his response, but keep walking.

“I need to speak with you about something. I’ll be downstairs waiting for you to be done playing with your lamp, Aladdin.” His only response then is a loud groan followed by the water being shut off. I hope he takes his time so I have a moment to cool off and recover.

Owen was touching himself while thinking of me. The sound of his gruff voice keeps playing over and over in my mind already, and I wonder how long this memory will last. I wonder if it’ll be seven years and counting, like the last memories of what he sounded like when I last heard him come. I wonder if I’ll be haunted by visions of this for years to come now.

His footsteps coming down the stairs within minutes, and I brace myself for having to look at him again, silently praying for my façade to stick, for the mask to remain intact, and for him not to see any trace of how just being near him affects me.

Owen comes into view as I sit at the island, peeling a banana. It occurs to me this is either the best or worst fruit I could have picked from the basket.

“You needed to speak to me?” He stands on the other side of the island, hair wet, T-shirt sticking to his body where he clearly didn’t dry himself off well enough before getting dressed. I bite off a piece of the banana without breaking eye contact, and he groans. “Really, Maevey? A banana?”

I shrug, taking my time swallowing. “I was hungry.” He raises one eyebrow at me, defiantly. “Anyway, I came to ask if you’d like to escort me to an event in two days. My publicist insisted I ask, so I’m asking because she knows when I’m lying to her, so just go ahead and tell me no so I can let her know and move on.”

“I would like to escort you.” The shock of his response has me nearly gagging on the too-large bite of banana I just took, but I manage to keep it together. He seems to register my surprise and continues, “I would like that very much, actually.”

“Oh.”

Ladies and gentlemen, award-winning actress Maeve Howard.

I clear my throat. “You don’t even know what the event is.”

“I don’t care what it is. As long as it’ll be me on your arm and not that slimy Liam. I’m your husband, so yes, Maevey. I’ll be there.” His stupid green eyes are steady and clear, not a trace of a lie on any of the words he’s just spoken. I don’t correct him. Lincoln’s name isn’t important right now.

“Fine then. We need to get you a tux.” This is the best I’ve got after he threw me completely off by saying he wants to go.

“Got one. Never worn it before, but it’s custom.” Blimey, he’s got an answer for everything hasn’t he? “I even have my own shoes, if you can believe it.” He winks, and I want to hate the sight of it, but I want more.

Nope. Get those thoughts the fuck out of here.

“Right. Great. I’ll text you the details. Meet me in LA on Saturday. I’ll be getting ready at my house all afternoon. Our car will leave from there. You can stay at my guesthouse. It’ll be a nice change in our dynamic.” I swallow back the lump in my throat, which tastes a whole lot like uncertainty. “Time to put on the performance of your life, O—pretending to be madly in love with me.” I don’t give him time to quip back with any other smart remarks. I take my banana and hop off the stool, making my way toward the door.

26/

hello mr. and mrs. james.

owen

The social worker is going to be here in fifteen minutes, and Maeve still isn’t here. The nervous energy is making my heart beat too fast and I lower to the ground quickly to do a few pushups to see if I can get this out of my system.

“Honey, I’m home!” Maeve’s sing-song voice comes from the back door, and by the time I get back on my feet, she’s standing in the living room gaping at me. I fucking love it when she does that.

“Hey.” I wipe my hands on my thighs and then it’s my turn to gape. She’s in light jeans, and a tight white shirt tucked into them. Her hair is in a loose bun at the nape of her neck with little pieces falling around her face. The light brown blazer she has on is big, and the sleeves are rolled up to her elbows. No red lipstick today. Her plump lips are a soft pink.

“Uh. Hi. What are you doing?” She cocks her head to the side as a curious smile plays on her lips, and I’m nearly winded with the force of déjà vu.

Shit. How am I gonna pretend that her looking at me like this, standing in my house, is perfectly normal?

“Me? Just…you know…nerves and shit. I just…” I clear my throat, hoping actual words form in my brain. “I just needed to let out some nervous energy.”

“Right. Makes sense.” She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, nodding as she looks around the room.

Is she nervous?

“You look great.” I walk closer to her, feeling the temperature rise with every step I take. Her eyes travel from my face to my feet and back up again.

“You, too.”

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