Page 81 of Love Is: Two Bodies One Soul

Lexie turned her head so she could see Owen’s face. The one night of separation in England had been bad for her too. And simply holding hands through the flight was not enough.

She remembered how she had found him on the plane, head in hands, looking tense and troubled. She’d felt guilty, making him suffer unnecessarily, and worried he would be angry. But when she said his name and he’d looked up at her, all her fears disappeared. His smile said it all. No danger he would try to contact George. Heedless of surrounding passengers and cabin crew, he’d stood and swept her into his arms. Only when a steward reminded them to take their seats, had Owen stopped hugging her.

Then they talked through take-off and throughout the in-flight meal. Owen had asked when Xander was going to get his ta-da moment and Lexie had said, she thought Kate would send him the boarding details on Saturday – one day late for the real flight. They’d discussed the likely outcome of that, and the probable fall-out on Monday and finally, both exhausted, they tried to settle to sleep. But actually sleeping with the thrumming of the A380’s engines in her ears, and Owen in the space beside her – a cabin full of strangers all around them …. It had been tough – impossible. ‘So, we’re agreed? she said, ‘We sleep together inside the tiny tent.’

‘Agreed.’ Owen turned and looked at the tent again. Frowning, he scratched the back of his head. ‘What I can’t understand is why Kate sent such a small tent.’

‘Maybe she was trying to make it cosy.’ Lexie slipped her arm around Owen’s back.

‘Perhaps she has no idea how hot it gets here, even at night,’ Owen replied. He flicked another uncertain glance at her. ‘Perhaps it would be better for you if I sleep outside.’

‘If you sleep outside, then I will too.’

‘What with the creepy crawlies?’

‘That’s no way to describe yourself, Owen Kingsley.’

Owen laughed and chased her into the tent.

Crammed together, on top of their sleeping bags, too hot for comfort, too tired for sex, too jet-lagged for sleep, they talked.

It started with Lexie asking about Henry. She shuffled on top of the sleeping bag, trying to find a comfortable way to rest, then snuggling against Owen’s shoulder, she asked, ‘Have you decided yet about your father?’

The atmosphere inside the tent seemed to drop several degrees, and Lexie thought, who needs air-con when there’s one of Owen’s frosty moods to chill the atmosphere.

He wriggled and put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close to his side again.

‘Not yet. I know I should at least try to like the man. After all, he is my father, and as George said, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him ….’

‘But …,’ Lexie prompted as Owen fell silent.

‘It’s difficult. I can’t be a hypocrite. I don’t like him, I never have, but with him so ill, it doesn’t seem right to ignore him. He’s made it clear he wants to spend time with me … wants to be my father … and time is so limited.’ Owen’s hold on Lexie grew tighter.

‘Don’t you want to know your father?’

Owen shook his head. ‘I don’t know if I do or don’t, and it’s the very fact that time is limited that makes it more difficult. It’s like fate is telling me I must decide, and I must do it now. But I’m not ready.’

Lexie ran her fingers over Owen’s chest. So hot. He’d not been kidding about the night-time temperature inside the tent. ‘You told me George thought he only had about three months?’

‘Pancreatic cancer is a quick killer.’ Owen sounded grim.

Lexie paused, unsure if she should proceed. This whole conversation seemed like stepping over widespread stones set in deep black water. At last, she said, ‘You could do it for your mum.’

‘Ha!’ Owen shifted, adding angrily, ‘I did more than enough for that woman when she was alive.’

Ignoring the feeling she was just about to step straight into that deep black water, Lexie said, ‘If you were their love child. Isn’t it right that you should make peace with him?’

Owen shook his head. ‘Plenty of children are brought into this world without love, Lex.’

‘You think he didn’t love your mother?’

* * *

Owen dippedhis chin so he could see Lexie’s expression. She had sounded shocked. He couldn’t help thinking what a different world to his own she must come from. Her rock-solid family background. He couldn’t see her face, only the top of her head, golden curls flying out in all directions. She appeared to be focusing on his navel. How appropriate, he thought, and forced himself to answer her question. ‘I don’t know if Henry loved my mum, Lex. I suppose he must have felt something to stick around so long.’ He rested his hand in Lexie’s hair and weaved the curls around his fingers. It was comforting, but he couldn’t stop himself saying, ‘She wasn’t an easy woman to love.’

A black silence seemed to settle on them. Owen didn’t add to his last statement. Scowling up at the tent roof, he wondered if Lexie knew she’d stumbled into dangerous territory.

Then she asked, ‘Why not?’

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