His nostrils flare as his lips press into a hard line.
“Don’t let her chip away at you like that, Meadow. She’s not worth it. You’re one of the best goddamn employees in that entire building, and she knows it. That’s why she comes after you. Because you make her look incompetent.”
You’re one of the best goddamn employees in that entire building, and she knows it.
His response shakes the hollow void in my chest, a place I hadn't realized had gone completely numb. To have someone acknowledge my hard work—to haveOwendefend me—feels like that first inhale of oxygen when you’ve been drowning underwater. For the first time in a long time, I feel seen.
I don’t think he has any idea how much his words truly mean to me.
I swallow hard, my vision slightly blurring with emotion. I’ve gotten so used to brushing shit off with a smile that I forgot how nice it is to feel important.
“Thank you, Owen,” I murmur, my voice almost a whisper. “That…that means more than you know.”
He’s quiet for a second, then blows out a breath and leans back.
His captivating eyes hold mine, not wavering for a second. He looks at me like he needs to make sure I don’t miss what he’s about to say.
“I mean it,” he replies, his tone firm. “You deserve better than the way she treats you.”
“I know,” I nod. “That’s why I’m going to hit the ground running and apply to as many jobs as I can when we get back from this trip.”
He flinches as a flicker of emotion twists his face.
It’s tiny, but I catch it.
The lines around his eyes tighten as his shoulders go rigid, as if the thought of not seeing me every day hinders his ability to breathe.
Before I can process Owen’s reaction, he gathers himself and leans back in the chair.
“Yeah, well,” he says, his voice casual, “wherever you go, you’re taking me with you. Non-negotiable.”
My brows lift. “Oh yeah? You're just going to follow me around like that?”
His lips curve into a slow, devastating grin that has me curling my toes beneath the table.
“In a heartbeat,” he replies without needing to think. “You think I’m going to give up our lunch excursions? Coffee runs? Vent sessions? My daily dose of Meadow?”
My daily dose of Meadow.
My pulse stumbles.
My throat goes dry.
There’s no way he just said that, right?
I force a laugh, trying to play it off before he notices that I’m practically wiggling out of my seat, finding it impossible to sit still.
“Oh,okay, Owen,” I drawl out, my tone dramatic. I toss him an eye roll because he has to be joking. He didn’t mean that.
His gaze doesn't falter. If anything, it intensifies.
“I’m serious,” he replies. “There’s not a chance in hell that you’re going anywhere else without me. If you leave, I’m stapling my resume to yours and waltzing right into your new office with you.”
My heart does a ridiculous little flip.
God, I haven’t felt butterflies like this since my middle school boyfriend kissed me for the first time in the back of the movie theater.
How is it so easy for him to say things like that?
