Page 67 of The Reality of Us
“What do you think she wants to talk about? Do you think she wants you back?” Alice sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, worry still etched across her beautiful face.
“Hey,” Owen said, closing the distance between them, noticing how easily Alice slipped back into his arms. His thumb traced her lips. “I don’t know what Camille wants to talk about, but it doesn’t matter because she doesn’t matter to me.”
He leant forward, needing to kiss Alice and prove to her that everything he’d just said was true, when a soft cough from the doorway interrupted them again.
Jesus.
“Excuse me.” Lulu didn’t even try to keep the glee out of her tone. “I just need to get those bags.”
“Why don’t you head back out there?” Owen’s hand settled in the small of Alice’s back as he pushed her towards the door.
She nodded, smoothed her hair and scuttled out of the storeroom.
Owen picked up a box, adjusted his grip and waited.
“Do you have something to tell me?” Lulu asked.
“Nope.”
Her smile disappeared, replaced with a frown. “I thought I taught you that lying was wrong.”
Owen sighed loudly. “I need you to forget what you saw.”
“But why?” Lulu protested, the lines of her forehead deepening. “This is wonderful news. Everyone’s going to be so happy for you both. I knew there was something going on!”
She was probably right. People would think this was nice. Now that Alice had shown everyone that she was committed to using her platform for good and was starting to take part in local events, her popularity had increased significantly. Once Owen had switched to local suppliers for the final few things for his new house and made it clear he was back for good, Owen’s had gone through the roof as well.
But then he remembered Alice’s stricken expression when she’d realised they weren’t alone. His stomach clenched. She wasn’t ready for a whole swag of reasons … she might never be ready.
And he wouldn’t risk anything derailing whatever it was they were doing.
“Mum.” He licked his lips. They were still sticky. Strawberry lingered under his nose. “You can’t say anything, okay? You have to promise me. With her divorce and everything …” His voice cracked, and the box slipped. How could he lose this when they’d barely gotten started?
“Oh, darling.” His mum’s frown returned, spurred on by the seriousness of his plea.
“Not to anyone. Especially not the Old Girls.”
She patted his arm. “I won’t. But you know secrets have a way of getting out. I’m always here if you want to talk, right?”
He nodded. “I should go.”
“Do you want me to take them?” Lulu pointed at the stock he was carrying.
“No, it’s okay. I can do it.” He wanted—no, needed—to make sure Alice was okay.
His eyes found her as soon as he stepped back into the store. She was in her corner, laughing at something a lady with frizzy hair said, but there was a brittleness to her smile that hadn’t been there earlier. Her movements were jerky, almost manic.
“Here he is!” Eloise descended on him with scissors in one hand. “We need another Kathleen’s Place candle for the reporter.” She snipped through the masking tape, pulling out a candle box decorated in wattle branches.
“Owen’s going to partner with Alice in the Wattle Valley Ranges Charity Adventure,” Lulu said, and Owen shot her a look. So much for playing it cool.
“I wouldn’t have picked you as the kind for an adventure race,” a tall guy with a recording app open on his phone said to Alice, hastily tacking on a “no offence.”
“That’s a fair assumption.” Alice laughed, more like her normal self. Owen tried not to believe it was because his presence soothed her. That was a dangerous thought. “I couldn’t refuse the opportunity to support a cause as brilliant as Kathleen’s Place. They’ve been providing a place for the community to gather since the sixties. I caught the tail end of an art therapy session the other day and what struck me most was the sense of belonging everyone there had. It’s something that”—she took a deep breath, her hand settling on the display shelf next to her—“everyone needs. Even if it’s a stepping stone to somewhere else.”
Owen’s stomach clenched, but he pushed the worry away.
“I can’t think of a better organisation to be the charity recipient for my first ‘Alice Loves’ candle and our race fundraising. We’ve been so lucky to have some great sponsors come on board, too. The local hotel and footy club have been great, but we’re always looking for more. Every dollar counts.”
