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"Yep. Including my parents."
Wow, I can’t believe I said that.
Owen doesn’t seem shocked. And he doesn’t rush to reassure me that can’t be true. “I’m sorry,” he says instead. “I can imagine he throws a pretty big shadow.”
“He does.” I sigh. “And my parents are great. They love me. I don’t doubt that. It’s not like they forget my birthday or things like that. But Crew was the center of their universe."
Owen smiles. "Does it make you feel any better that the moment you walk into a room, all I can see is your light and energy and Crew could literally hit me over the head with a hockey stick and I wouldn’t be able to look away from you?”
It’s cheesy and over the top but…it does make me feel better. Just that he’d say something like that to try to make me feel better.
"Thank you.”
I’m going to sleep with this guy tonight.
I probably was going to before, but that just cinched it.
“What made you feel that way when you were kids?” he asks. “With your parents?”
“Well, he was always loud and getting into things, so he took up a lot of their attention and energy from day one. But when he started playing hockey, everything in our family started revolving around his schedule. Practices, games, private lessons. When he got old enough to be on travel teams, my parents would drop me off at grandma’s house and I wouldn’t see them again for days."
"Lucky for your grandparents."
I smile in spite of myself. This guy is sweet. And do I want a little more of that? Some fucking attention and adoration? Yeah. I’m not too proud to admit that. It’s what’s so fun about Alexsei, too. He thinks I’m amazing. And he knows my brother, too. He doesn’t need me to get close to Crew. If he wants to be with me, it’s really about me.
"My grandparents were great,” I say, feeling the warmth in my chest I always do when I think of them. “I was very close to them. My grandmother was the one who taught me to bake. About half of the recipes in the bakery are hers. She wasn't that into French baking. So the pain au chocolate, macarons, and éclairs are all mine. But the cookies and a lot of the cakes are hers."
"I'm a huge fan of hers then.”
"I was, too."
"Was?" he asks. "Was she why you have a black funeral dress?"
"Yes. I miss her every day."
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. He makes it seem like the most natural thing in the world. He strokes his big thumb across the back of my knuckles and I feel my whole body warming. But it's not with the heat of desire, or a desire to take my clothes off like some of the other actions he's done. This is a warmth, like a hug.
I study him for a moment and cannot avoid the thought that hits me–I bet Owen gives really great hugs.
I want to sleep with him. For sure. But I also want to know what his hugs are like.
Wow.
"I'm sorry you were lonely growing up. I suppose that's how you became so independent, though."
"So, I'm not really that independent, that’s the thing. But I'm working on it."
"What do you mean? You own your own business. Getting a chance to see you is difficult because you're so busy. You live alone. You don't even have a dog."
"Well, I only live alone because my roommate recently fell in love. And I only have a business because my dad feels guilty."
"Guilty for what?"
"For giving all of his time, money, and attention to Crew. It occurred to them when Crew got recruited that everything they put into him had paid off and given him this amazing career. And they realized they hadn't really done that for me, so my dad bought the bakery and completely furnished it. There is nothing in there that he doesn't own. Except for one set of china. My grandmother's. I got it after she passed. I use it for these really special high teas that I host."
Owen doesn't say anything, he just keeps stroking my hand.
He only pulls away when the waiter arrives with our food.
