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CHAPTER 14
Keeping my encounter at the park from Owen is a no brainer. As it is, things are finally at that stage where we can have a conversation, have a meal together with Mia. It’s no longer torture. Besides, I don’t think I owe this one to Owen. He’s still my husband, yes, and I am still trying to make up for my previous transgression. But this time it’s different.
Owen and I haven’t had sex in weeks, since before he left for Raleigh. Come to think of it, Bo is the last man I’ve had sex with.
Yeah, I’m definitely keeping this one to myself.
And come Monday night, when we’ve put Mia to bed and I say goodnight, and he says, “Wait, can we talk for a minute downstairs?” I am especially grateful for the decision to keep the secret.
In the kitchen, Owen pours himself a vodka tonic and makes me a bay breeze as I sit at the counter watching him. “Is it that bad that we need liquid courage?”
He grins at me. “Well, not bad. But I definitely need the courage.”
We toast to nothing, and I take a sip while he downs almost the entire glass in one gulp.
“So, you know I’ve been seeing Dr. Riker,” he starts.
“No,” I say shaking my head. “I had no idea you still were.”
“Well, after everything that happened, I needed someone to talk to. There were just too many thoughts in my head that needed to be sorted through.”
Looking at my pink drink, I tap on the glass with a fingernail. I don’t know how I feel about Owen seeing Dr. Riker again. Even though I’d suggested it recently, I assumed we’d be going together, and I’d have chosen someone else. “Has she helped?”
“She has. Right after, you know… your thing,” he says and I shift a little in my bar stool, “I could only see things one way. There was only me and my feelings. She helped me see a bigger picture, as well as other possibilities.”
“What possibilities do you see?”
Taking in the rest of his drink, he sets the tumbler on the counter and faces me. “I know you love me, Cris. Though I’m still not exactly sure how this other guy has come into the picture again, I don’t think you’re seeking him out actively.”
“I’m not,” I admit.
“And while I do think he’s something to you, and that hurts like a mother fucker, the positive in that is that I don’t think there will be anyone else you would cheat on me with.”
“I won’t cheat with anyone!”
He presses his eyes like he’s digging into himself for patience. “I want to trust you, I really do. But it’s going to take time. You are going to always have to be honest with me.”
“Of course.”
“Is this man something that I have to worry about on a daily basis? I mean, he doesn’t live down the street or anything like that, does he?”
I dumbly shake my head, not having expected to be asked about where Bo lives. “No, no. He doesn’t live around here,” I say, my heart wild because it’s only mostly true.
He nods once. “Let’s take things slow. We get along so well as it is. Let’s go on being friends. Maybe go on a date, see where it leads. But if I feel like it’s going too fast for me, I am going to slow us down. And I’m still going to stay in the guestroom. I don’t think sex is something we should get into until we figure out our emotions.”
“Okay, yeah, that sounds great to me.”
“All right,” he says smiling. “I’m going up to bed. We’ll talk more.”
“That’ll be great.”
He leans in for a kiss, and I pucker up, but he moves to my cheek instead. I smile at him a little embarrassed, hoping he didn’t notice my mistake, but when he pats me on the shoulder, I realize he had. He leaves me then, with only my drink for company.
The minute I hear his door close I get up and twirl in the kitchen. He’s giving me another chance. We’re going to take it slow, do it right. And I for one am going to do everything in my power not to screw this up. As long as I steer away from Bo, my marriage might actually survive.
Eleven o’clock can’t come fast enough. It’s just one of those days where every minute, every second, drags on for an eternity. And it’s not because the day is slow. Definitely anything but that. Even for a Friday it’s been extremely busy. Maybe that’s why I need the break. Counting money for two hours straight has smudged my fingers black and made them ache.
Putting up the sign that says “Next Teller Please,” I clock out on my computer and start my fifteen-minute respite. Normally I would head to the break room or use the restroom, but just as I’m heading that way my boss stops me.
