And why does it feel so real?
If I don’t get a hold of myself, I’m going to start believing that Owen actually wants me as badly as I want him.
I need to say something light,anything, before cartoon hearts start to pop out of my eyes.
“Careful there, Brooks,” I manage, my voice laced with humor. “You almost sounded sincere for a second, as if you might actuallylikeme.”
“Shhh,” he smirks, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
We both chuckle before falling into an easy rhythm again, grabbing pieces off the sandwich and plucking the best nachos from the center of the pile. Outside, the waves crash and pull, steady as breathing.
After we’ve cleared the takeout containers, our stomachs pleasantly full, a question bubbles up inside me that I’ve been holding back for days. Longer than just days if I’m being honest…
“Owen,” I mutter. “Can I ask you something?”
He looks up. “Yeah. Go for it.”
I fiddle with my napkin, folding the corner into a perfect triangle. “Are you… Sad?”
His brows draw together. “Sad?”
“About her,” I clarify, my voice hesitant. “Your ex. About the breakup.”
He stares at the table for a while, and for once, I don’t fill the silence. I give him the time he needs.
“Sometimes,” he finally admits. “I mean, I’d be lying if I said I never think about it. Two years is a long time to be with someone. You don’t just erase that overnight,” he swallows thickly. “Some days are harder than others, especially when I see something that reminds me of her. It still stings a little.”
He shrugs one shoulder and rubs a palm against his jaw.
“But I’m not… heartbroken,” he continues. “Not in the way I think I should be if she were the one.”
“What really happened?” I ask gently. “If you don’t mind me asking…”
He leans back in his chair, gaze drifting toward the window before cutting back to me.
“She wanted everything,” he mutters. “Marriage, kids, and a house in the suburbs. And she wanted itnow. She wanted timelines, ring shopping, and serious conversations about what we would name our future kids.”
Is it terrible that I feel relieved he didn't want those things with her? Is it delusional that I think it could ever be me?
“And you didn’t?” I ask.
“It’s not that I don’t want those things,” he answers. “I think I do. One day. I just knew deep down she wasn’t the person I wanted them with. We didn’t fit like that. We were good on paper. Everything looked great from the outside. But what people didn't know is that we were constantly arguing about stupid shit. I felt like it was all a performance.”
“A performance?”
“Yeah,” he scoffs with a humorless smile. “Always trying to be the picture-perfect couple. I felt like nothing but a pawn in her game.”
My chest squeezes. I can’t help thinking about how different he is with me… The Owen I know is witty, sarcastic, unfiltered, and delightfully charming.
“So you ended it,” I say softly.
His throat bobs. “Yeah. I couldn’t keep up with the lie anymore. She deserved someone who was all in. And I was halfway out the door—my heart somewhere else.”
Somewhere else.
Those two words feel so charged… like they’re pressing down on Owen’s chest.
He lifts his gaze, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that I feel deep in my bones.
