“You’re not,” I agree with her. “But we all do stupid things sometimes.”
She hiccups again, wiping at the tears under her eyes and smearing the mascara all across her checks. “But everyone’s going to know what I did. I bet Johnson has already told Elaine who will tell her husband, and you know how it’ll go from there. Everyone will know what an idiot I am before breakfast tomorrow.”
I sigh heavily. “I’ll talk to Elaine and Johnson. I’ll personally write up the ticket, and I’ll get with the courthouse to see if we can’t keep this quiet. I can’t guarantee it won’t get out, Lesa, but I’ll do my best. But you have to promise me that you won’t do something like this again.”
“I won’t.” She nods her head in agreement. I hang around a few more minutes just to make sure she’s all good, and then I head out to the car, putting a call into Johnson first to try and keep this quiet, not just for her sake, but for mine, as well.
Chapter Eleven
Tristan
The house is crazy quiet without Stella running around. A quick glance at the clock on the stove shows that Stella would have already been in bed by now, so the house would be quiet, but it would still be filled with her presence. Without her physically in the house, it just feels wrong.
God knows what I’m going to do when she grows up and goes off to college.
I shudder, not wanting to think about my baby girl all grown up and out on her own.
I called Maureen the moment Owen dropped me off, but his mother insisted that they were having too good of a time to allow me to come and get Stella. And my little girl didn’t wanted to come home. She sounded so incredibly happy to be with the Gallahangers that I agreed to leave her overnight.
It sounded like an excellent idea at the time. It has been a long time since I’ve had time just to myself, and I’ve pictured popping open a bottle of wine and finding a good book to settle in with, but I’ve done neither of those things. I turn the radio on, and hum absently along with familiar pop songs while wandering through the house.
It is a pretty enough night that I can sit outside, so I do that while I put a call into Dylan to check in with her. She wasn’t herself the last time we talked, but she didn’t want to elaborate about whatever was going on with her, and I didn’t push. It wouldn’t have mattered if I did or not. Dylan is the very definition of stubborn, so until she’s ready to tell me I have to let the matter drop.
She doesn’t answer my call, so I send her a text asking her to call me back when she has the chance.
And sadly, that exhausts the group of people I can call when I’m lonely. Owen is obviously out because he’s busy with Lesa, who I really hope is okay, and Dylan isn’t answering my calls. I have Nora and Monroe’s phone numbers, but I’m not entirely comfortable enough in my relationship with them to just give them a call out of the blue.
Besides, I doubt that Monroe wants to dissect my relationship with her brother, and the two amazing orgasms he’s given me. I know Nora would be down for it, but I have a feeling I’d be sharing more than I’m really willing to if I called her.
I sit on the top step, leaning my head against the railing as I stare out at the yard.
Moving to Broward was the best decision I’ve ever made. I almost want to call Gloria and thank her for leaving that letter out where I could find it. Almost.
Stella said it best last weekend while we were at the picnic. We have people now, not just the two of us with an occasional visit from Dylan. We have people who are in and out of lives every day. It really is a fantastic feeling.
Although he hasn’t said it, I get the impression from Owen that this thing between us is racing toward serious. Sometimes I’ll catch him looking at me, and the look on his face will simply take my breath away. He looks as if he wants to grab hold of me and never let go. And I’m pretty damn sure I’ll let him do it.
Which terrifies the fuck out of me.
I have always thought that I would start dating again someday. I didn’t write love off entirely when Trevor died, but I’ve had Stella to focus on, so dating was pushed to the very bottom of my list of things to do. But now that I’m dating Owen—at least I assume that’s what we were doing, I remember how beautiful it is to be part of a couple.
I’ve worried a little about how Stella will react to Owen being more involved in our lives, but it’s apparent to me that she’s deeply in love with him herself. He’s picked her up from daycare twice this week, once when I had to work late, and then another day he picked her up early so he could take her out for ice cream. I was a little jealous that my girl had gotten a date with him before I had. She came home ecstatic; I guess Owen let her fill her cup to the top and get four toppings where I typically limit her to two.
It was fun to watch the two of them interact. Sometimes it’s evident that Owen’s exposure to children, especially little girls, has been limited. But he’s jumped in with both feet, even sitting down one evening this week to watch Frozen with her, though he declined the wearing of a tiara while they watched.
He spent four of the past five evenings with us, sometimes joining us for dinner and occasionally stopping by after we’d eaten, just before Stella was ready to crawl into bed. Is it weird that he’s already become such a big part of our lives? Probably, but I don’t care. Stella and I both are happier than we’ve ever been and I know for a fact that part of that is Owen Gallahanger.
My phone rings in my hand, scaring the crap out of me so that I jolt upright. I glance at the screen to see that Owen is calling. “Hey,” I answer quickly. “Is Lesa okay?”
He huffs out a little breath that sounds almost like a laugh. “Yeah, she’s fine. Do you mind if I stop by for a few minutes? I’m right outside. I didn’t want to ring the bell and wake up Stella if she was sleeping.”
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Stella is spending the night with your parents.” At my statement, Owen is completely silent on the other end of the phone for so long I think I’ve lost him. “Owen?”
“I’m here.” He breathes heavily into the phone. “Come let me in, Tristan.” The tone of his voice has changed. It’s deepened and gone husky, and just the sound of him saying my name sends shivers down my spine.
“Okay,” I whisper softly, moving back through the house to the front door. I hadn’t thought I’d be seeing him again tonight so I had changed into my sweats and a camisole after he dropped me of earlier. He didn’t seemed to mind the sweats last weekend, but I wish I had taken time to put on some of the slightly sexier sleepwear I had. I had also put my hair in the braid I typically kept it in at night when I slept, but I release the strands on my way to the front door. I love the way Owen wraps his fingers in my hair when he’s kissing me, and I don’t want anything to get in the way of that happening tonight.
When I get to the front door, I pause to give myself just a minute to make sure I’m ready for this. I know exactly what is going to happen when I open this door. I also know that if I call Owen back right now and tell him I’m just going to head to bed, he’d say he’ll see me tomorrow.
My hand trembles only slightly as I reach out and pull the door open. Owen is standing on the porch, one shoulder leaning on the front porch railing, arms crossed over his chest. He is still wearing the khaki pants and button-down shirt he was wearing on our date. At some point during the evening, he had pulled a baseball hat over his hair, covering the dark strands.