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“Right?” A pause. “Married.”
Weird. He sounded. . .I don’t know. . .sad? Resigned?
I read into it.
He shrugged and dropped his hands to his sides. “It’s good, you know? Feels like the right move.”
“I’m happy for you, Owen,” I said, and I meant it.
“Thanks.”
I didn’t ask him questions about Lindsay, because I didn’t want to hear how in love with her he was, which made me a terrible friend. It didn’t matter anyway, because his friend Jace called him inside. The ceremony was about to start.
“I’ll see you in there?” he asked.
I nodded.
He looked happy. I couldn’t deny it, and I didn’t begrudge him a full, joy-filled life. I was just surprised that Lindsay was “the one.”
I honestly thought they were a terrible mismatch.
Mack thought so, too. We were both shocked to learn that Owen, the guy who never took anything seriously, was actually getting married.
I guess we all grow up sometime.
Owen always did have an intense, serious, loyal way of loving people, even to a fault. I shouldn’t be surprised he wants to be married and love the same person forever.
I didn’t know everything would completely change ten minutes later.
Owen was standing at the front of the church, waiting for his bride to be, when I, along with everyone else, saw his best man hurry down the aisle and whisper something in his ear.
I knew in that moment I’d never forget the look on his face.
Eleven minutes later, the pastor stepped forward and announced that there’s been a complication, and things would have to unfortunately be postponed.
Because five minutes before that. . .Lindsay left.
She left.
She left Owen standing there, in front of all their friends and family, looking lost and embarrassed and hurt.
The chatter started almost immediately. Owen’s parents stood abruptly, looking around, his dad storming off in one direction, and his mom coming up to his side.
I watched as misery washed over him.
No book I’ve read, no novel I’ve lived in, could ever describe the feeling of actually watching it happen.
To someone you care about.
He met my eyes, his on fire with hurt, jaw steeling against the rage of emotions washing up, and I stood, motioning with my head in the direction of the exit. His nod was so slight, I almost missed it, but he slipped out the side door and met me in the parking lot. Without a word, he got in my car, and I drove off, leaving the church in the rearview mirror.
I sped down the highway in the direction of the only place I could think to go.
The dock.
We got out of the car, made our way there, and I sat. Owen paced. He pressed both heels of his hands to his eyes, trembling with hurt.
I waited.
