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“Chapel Hill.”
“Ah, I knew you were brainy.”
“I didn’t get into Duke, though. My parents’ alma mater. It’s where they met.”
“Were they disappointed?”
“Yes, but seriously? If that’s your biggest disappointment in life then I’d say you’re batting a thousand.”
“Absolutely.”
“Did you like Annapolis?”
“Like it?” He looks down at the menu when he answers, “I can’t answer yes or no to that. It’s an experience, something that changes you...Hopefully for the better.”
“I dated a Marine.”
Now I’ve got his attention. “Really?”
I shake my head, waving it off. “Way back when.”
I take a sip of my wine, hating myself for the way I’ve diminished Damien and what we had. I look back at the menu. “I’m getting the seafood salad, so you get something else and we’ll share.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. I don’t know Owen well, but I know enough to get that he’s perceptive. I’m pretty sure he’s reading into my words, my body language and my damn shaky breathing right now. But he lets me off the hook when he says, “Sounds good. I’ll get the mushroom risotto.”
Turning my head, I watch absently as people make their way to wherever they’re going. I’m trying to close that door, to keep myself firmly planted in the present. But as I try in vain to come up with something to say, some witty diversion, a fatigue comes over me that’s as familiar as it is troubling.
Damn, I promised myself I wouldn’t do this anymore. No more lies, no more hiding. Owen reaches across the small table at that moment and takes my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my skin in a way that should be comforting but it’s not.
I pull my hand from his when I blurt out, “I had a baby,” and then suck in a breath as if I’m trying to retract that admission and lock it back up.
He reaches across again and gently lifts my chin. He nods once and calmly repeats what I just said, “You had a baby.”
I nod, dumbstruck for a moment, and then realize what it is that I’ve done. “I’m sorry.” I try to laugh even though I’ve got tears pooling at the corners of both eyes. “No one knows. It was a long time ago.”
Owen tosses two twenties on the table and gestures to the waiter as he leads me out of the restaurant. We walk slowly in the direction of the hotel, saying nothing. In the elevator heading up to our room, Owen wraps an arm around my shoulder and whispers, “It’s ok, Grace,” as his lips graze the top of my head.
Owen said something the other day as we were walking through Central Park. I’d asked about his ex-girlfriend, again doing my best to keep the spotlight off myself, and he told me the basics. I got the feeling that his relationship with her was similar in some ways to mine with Jack: a situation you find yourself in more than something you choose.
When I asked how it ended, he said she’d lied to him. He told me about it, some ruse she’d concocted to get Owen to let her move in with him. He said he hated being lied to and he’d never trust her again after that.Harsh, I thought at the time. I honestly thought it was a pretty minor offense, a little white lie in the whole grand scheme of things. But I guess I’m partial to liars. They’re my peeps.
He unlocks the door and I follow behind, my steps slow. I imagined that saying those words out loud would lift a weight off my chest, but I don’t feel so great at the moment.
“Isit ok?” I sit on the bed and look up at him. “I gave birth to a child. I gave her away. I never told anyone. You said you don’t tolerate liars and I’ve been lying for years.”
He pulls a chair over and sits opposite me. “Did you tell him?”
“He died before she was born.”
“Aw, Gracie,” he says as he pulls me in and holds me close.Gracie. I haven’t been called that in years. And I know Owen isn’t him, but he holds me the same way and speaks to me with the same tenderness in his voice. “It’s gonna be all right.”
It’s a full five or ten minutes before I stop crying, before I pull back and see the front of his shirt soaked with my tears. My voice is hoarse when I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say that again. Don’t apologize for telling me what’s on your mind or in your heart.”
He crosses the room to get me a bottle of water and some tissues. I try to stand but sit back down when I feel like I might just collapse. Lies are heavy, and I’ve been dragging them around for years and years.
Owen puts the bottle to my lips and then wipes my eyes. He sets the bottle down and then gets on the bed and gestures for me to crawl up and lie in the crook of his arm. When I do, he tucks me in beside him. He doesn’t ask for details, doesn’t push for more, and I’m grateful for it. He just strokes my hair, lulling me into a dreamless, deep sleep.
