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“When were you going to tell me? Huh? When?” His anger died a little, and his voice cracked as he added a shaking, “What did I do to deserve that?” As his rage abated, I realized his eyes were red and his blotchy cheeks were streaked with tears.
My stomach roiled and my chest ached. The only words I could croak out were, “I’m sorry, Owen.”
“Fuck your sorry,” he snapped. “Tell me why. And tell me how long you were going to let me pretend we ‘just didn’t work out.’”
I couldn’t hold his gaze, and I dropped mine as my shoulders sank. The words “I was on my way here to tell you” died on my tongue, because why should he believe me? Wasn’t that every liar’s excuse? I wasjustabout to tell you the thing youjustfound out?
Owen’s tone shifted from hurt to disgusted. “God, you’re unbelievable. What the fuck iswrongwith you?” Before I could respond, he stepped back and put a hand on the door, probably ready to throw it closed in my face.
And that was when a thought occurred to me.
“Wait!” I put up my own hand… just in time to catch the slamming door, but a second too late to remember why that arm was bandaged.
The door hit my hand and forearm, smacking right square on the bandage, and the pain sent me back a step. Clutching my arm, I doubled over, stars sparkling in my vision as fire seared its way along the freshly cleaned wound. “Fuck!”
Owen was immediately at my side, a hand between my shoulders. “Are you okay? I’m sorry—I didn’t mean… Shit. Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” I croaked, trying really, really hard not to throw up on both of our feet. The pain sucked, but so did the renewed guilt. This man had just found out I’d cheated on him, and he was comforting me after he justifiably slammed the door in my face.
I can’t believe I threw away what I had with you.
Slowly, the pain receded, and I managed to catch my breath. As I straightened up, I didn’t waste any time because I knew Owen’s good will wouldn’t last long. Still trying not to puke, I gritted out, “I was coming here to tell you. And I can prove that.”
His expression was closed off, his jaw tight and his eyes narrow, but he wasn’t slamming the door in my face again. “How can you prove it?”
Without a word, I took out my phone. I pulled up Lia’s contact and called her on speakerphone. It rang a couple of times, and then she answered, sounding like she was flustered and walking fast.
“Hey, I’m running between patients. What’s up?”
“Owen’s here with me.”
The movement on the other end stopped. “Oh. Uh. Hi, Owen?”
“Hi,” he said uneasily.
I swallowed. “Can you just tell him what advice you gave me before I left the clinic?”
There was silence for a moment. Then, “You mean, the part where you should tell him what you did before he found out on his own?”
“Yes. That.”
Owen’s lips thinned into a bleached line, but he said nothing.
“Let me guess,” Lia said dryly. “He found out on his own.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “Thanks. I won’t keep bugging you. I just—”
“Wait.” Owen straightened and he held out his hand. “Take it off speaker and let me talk to her.”
I gulped. “Lia, do you have time for—”
“Not much,” she said in a clipped voice. “Take it off speaker. And you owe me, Matteo!”
“I absolutely do.” I turned off the speakerphone and handed my cell to Owen.
He put it to his ear. “Hey. Um. I just—”
Lia started talking fast. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but Owen was listening intently.
