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“I thought about waiting for our two-month anniversary, but I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Two months already?” Kayla says, and maybe I’m imagining things, but Annie’s face seems to pale.
“In two weeks,” I answer Kayla, one eye on Annie.
“Wow.” Kayla shakes her head and sips from her mug. She lets out a tired but content breath, looking down at the forms of her sleeping children. “I’m waking up Tim. If I don’t get to sleep, neither does he. Remember that when you have your own kids.”
Before Kayla can stand from her seat on the couch, Annie is up, her mug sloshing hot liquid from side to side. “Excuse me!” she says, taking off.
“I’m guessing the boys have had her up since one and she hasn’t peed yet.” Kayla lifts one brow before heading out to wake her husband.
I trace Annie’s footsteps—or coffee drops—all the way intothe kitchen, down the hall, and to a door at my right. I tap and wait for her to answer.
She doesn’t, but I know she’s in there.
“Annie?”
“I need a minute, Owen,” she says, and her breath is haggard.
“What happened?” I say, one hand on the trim, my ear to the door.
Seconds pass, and I think she isn’t going to answer when the door to a little boy’s bedroom creaks open. “Two months, Owen.” Her head shakes. “You know my track record. Two months. I never make it past two months.”
I lift a hand to her cheek. “With them. Not with me. We made it past two months a long time ago.”
“Not like this.” She points from her chest to mine. “Not as a couple.” She breathes and breathes, and I fear she’ll hyperventilate any moment. “It just came so quick. I thought we’d have more time—”
“Hey,” I say, using the calmest voice I can. I lift her chin. “I’m not afraid. I’m not giving up on us. Not that easily. Not ever.”
She blinks, and I realize there are tears in her eyes.
“Maddox was wrong. And I’m not him. Do you hear me, Annie? He was wrong.”
She nods, and one of the tears filling her brown eyes spills out onto her cheek.
“We’re worth fighting for.” I nod at her, and she gives me a shaky nod back. “Right?”
She nods again, this time letting me pull her in for a hug. I wrap my arms around her and nestle my lips and nose into her hair. Breathing in the orange blossoms, I remind her that I’m here to stay.
61
Annie
Panic attack averted. How is Owen so wonderful? Why didn’t I force him to get that tattoo a million years ago to tell the world he belongs to me?
He’s not going to give up.He’s not going to be like Maddox, making me feel unworthy, and he’s not going to be like James, making me settle. He’s not like any of the rest.
I get to choose. I get a say.
I sayI’m worthy. And I want Owen.
As I look at this photo of the two of us, it all feels so clear. So obvious.
Owen Bailey loves me.
He loves me.
And I love him. I’m pretty sure I always have. And fear of being unworthy of a love like his kept me at bay.
