Page 28 of Easy To Lose

Just as I head back into my bedroom, my phone vibrates, and I can’t help the sense of hope that overtakes my body. I want it to be Owen. When I see that it’s Charly, I try and cool the disappointment.

Charly: Lunch, 20 minutes?

I answer that I’ll meet her at the store and go into my closet to find something to wear, not caring since I’ll be back soon to change for my birthday party. Maybe lunch will be a distraction?

I can hope.

* * *

“What’s wrong?” Charly asks the second I step out of my car. I honestly thought I had a handle on my feelings, but the second I pulled up and saw that Owen’s truck was nowhere to be seen, I realized that he might not actually be here like he said. “You okay?” Charly asks again as I try and curb the tears threatening to fall. I shake my head as I start walking to the front door, but at the last second, I turn and head toward the gym instead. “What are you doing?” Charly asks as she tries to keep up.

“I need to talk to Matt for a second,” I say quickly as I open the front door and head inside. Matt is manning the front desk, and the moment he sees me, his whole face breaks out into a huge smile.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite of Owen’s girlfriends. What can I do for you, Morgan?”

“Have you seen Owen today?” My voice is quiet, and I don’t know what I’m hoping for, but when he shakes his head, my heart sinks.

“No, I actually called him this morning, but he didn’t answer, I wanted him to open the place for me.” That heavy feeling starts to push against me as I look around the gym.

“So, he hasn’t been by at all?” Matt shakes his head and the sense of dread hits its peak. He lied to me. Owen was never here.

Charly takes my hand, and when our eyes meet, hers beg for details. I shake my head, hoping she can wait a few more minutes.

“If you see him, can you let him know that I’m looking for him?” Matt eyes me with a weird look as I fight the tears again.

“Didn’t he spend the night at your place?” he asks as Charly gasps next to me. I turn, hoping my look indicates that I don’t want to talk about that right now. She gives me a subtle nod, and I breathe a sigh of relief that she understands. Matt eyes me once more, and his expression mirrors my confusion.

“Yeah, he stayed over. But he left early. Said he had to come to work…” From the puzzled look on Matt’s face, I’d guess that’s very unlike Owen.

“That’s weird,” he mutters, eyeing the floor as we stand in silence. “I’ll be sure to tell him you’re looking for him if I see him…” he says as I give him a grateful smile and head back out the door.

When I open the door to Head Over Heels, I realize how grateful I am for Becca and her ability to just open the store without me being there to oversee her. Hiring her was the best decision I ever made.

“So, when were you going to tell me that Owen stayed over?” Charly says as the door shuts behind us, and the air-conditioning blasts me.

“I knew it!” Becca says from behind the front desk, winking in my direction as I roll my eyes and make my way to the back storage room. “I want details when you’re not looking at me like you want to drown me in a kiddie pool.” Although I appreciate her imagination, I wave her off, wanting nothing more than to distract myself from everything that is happening right now.

My entire body is taut with the conflicting emotions warring inside my mind. On the one hand, the memories I have from last night create levity. Owen said he loved me. I’d spent most of my teens—and if I’m honest, most of the past few years—wanting nothing more than to know what those words felt like. But waking up to radio silence is almost like a dark cloud following me around on an otherwise sunny day.

I honestly don’t know what to feel.

“Are you okay?” Charly asks, concern plastered all over her face. When our eyes meet, the tears form. “Oh, sweetie. Let’s get out of here and talk, okay?” I nod my head because, at this point, I don’t know what else to do.

* * *

“You’ve reached Owen, leave a message after the beep, or text me!” His voice echoes in my ear as I look out my back window, staring at all the people gathered around the fire. I shut off my phone since there’s no reason to leave yet another message. He hasn’t responded to my last four or the half-dozen texts. After lunch with Charly, my sadness turned to anger—at Owen for ignoring me and not even giving me the time of day or courtesy of telling me what is more important than calling me. But mostly, I’m mad that I put myself in this position without even realizing it. After Aaron, I swore I’d never let a man cloud my judgment again. And here I am, breaking my own fucking rules.

“Still nothing?” Charly asks as Simon comes up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. The simplistic nature of the gesture should mean nothing, but over the last few weeks, I’ve become accustomed to Owen inadvertently touching my hand, my shoulder, grazing the side of my thigh. And because he’s not here, and my heart is breaking into pieces across the tiled floor, those gestures are all I can see. Simon’s eyes convey that Charly was not tight-lipped, but he just gives me a sad smile before kissing the side of her head and walking back outside to talk to Matt.

As I shake my head, I take my phone from my hand, putting it into my back pocket, hoping that the familiar feeling of deja vu doesn’t worsen.

“Well, I brought you this to take your mind off it.” She hands me a Jack and Coke, my favorite drink in college, one that I couldn’t have for years because the smell brought me back to seedy bars, drunken nights, and mornings I wished I could forget.

“Just what I need…” I say, taking the drink from her hand and downing it, placing the glass on the counter next to me.

“Whoa, okay,” Charly mutters, taking my hand plus my empty glass as she leads me outside. “What you need to do is surround yourself with people who love you. Celebrate and then kick his ass when he decides to show up. Don’t let him ruin this birthday. Not when I’m here.” She gives me a wink, pouring enough Jack into my glass to warrant a warning. “Got it?” she asks, taking a shot glass and filling it to the brim. We toast, even though saying I’ll enjoy the night and actually doing so are two very different things.

“To friendship,” I say, a genuine smile crossing my face as Charly’s eyes soften.

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