24 #3
“No really. Let me say this. When I first met you, yes, I had this knee-jerk reaction and it was like… physical. I don’t think I even realized why I was reacting that way until later.
But the more I get to know you, you couldn’t be more different from Connor.
Even physically, his stupid red hair, and—” I can tell he doesn’t believe me, is maybe even tuning me out, so I say, “Hey. Pull over again.”
“What?”
“Pull over. Right now.”
Owen signals right, pulling off on the nearest side street. The moment he shifts into park I’m on him, crawling into his lap and taking his face in my hands.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I say, “You are extremely hot. Okay?”
Owen laughs as best he can with his face smushed between my palms. “Okay.”
“And you are nothing like Connor, and you are nothing like your dad.”
“Lia—”
“Shh.” I stop him with a finger over his lips.
“Do you really think I would date you if you were the slightest bit like either of them? Really, ask yourself that. Based on what you know about me as a person, do you think I would agree to date you if I thought you resembled either of them in the slightest bit, either physically or personally?”
He reaches up to take one of my hands in his, turning it to kiss my palm. “No, I don’t.”
“Good.” I run my fingers over his neatly trimmed beard, then up into his hair. “And now that I know you, I love your eyes. You know why?”
“Why?” he asks, humoring me.
“Because they tell me everything you’re feeling that you won’t say. They make everything so obvious. I can read you like a book. And I like that. Because you know what I see in that book?”
“What?”
“I see you thinking lots of hateful things about people I also hate, and thinking lots of very flattering things about me.”
He laughs even louder now, filling the car, drowning out the rain with his relief.
“Am I right?”
He reaches one hand up to cup the base of my skull, fingers twining into my long curls as he says, “You’re absolutely right.”
Then he kisses me, softer and slower than he ever has before, and I feel his appreciation in every motion of his lips, and every stroke of his thumb over my cheek.
I run my hand up his arm—over the scar from the week of Andy’s graduation—then into his hair, the scar from his father’s abuse.
Over his chest; the past that fractured his heart, now repaired like kintsugi with pure gold.
Again, he says, “I’m sorry I made this about me.”
“You didn’t.” I kiss him once more, then say, “But damn, tonight has been depressing.”
“I do have one piece of news I’m hoping you’ll like. I was gonna tell you when we got back to my place, make it more of a grand gesture, but…”
“Tell me now,” I say, wiggling slightly in his lap. “I love good news.”
“Okay, well, your birthday is in a few weeks…”
“Yes…”
“And I looked at your calendar while we were at your place, and you have five days in a row without events scheduled.”
“I always take my birthday week off.”
“Do you have plans for it?”
“Not yet, but I’m gonna make some.”
“Don’t,” he says.
“Don’t?”
He shakes his head.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because I’m taking you to Paris.”
My brows twitch in confusion. “What?”
“Paris, France. For your birthday. I hope you say yes because I already bought the flights and hotels and they are not refundable.”
“Paris… You’re taking me to Paris?”
“I also figured it wouldn’t hurt to get out of Boston for a bit.
Give you space from the whole Connor thing.
And Guy’s cousin has time to meet you while we’re there, if you want.
I already asked him. But mostly I just want to see you visit the city of your dreams.” When I don’t respond right away, he asks, “Is that okay?”
I’m ten thousand feet above the ground. My hands on my face, mouth hanging open, pressure behind my eyes. I let myself collapse backwards and my body lands on the horn, honking it loudly and startling us both until I overcorrect and tumble onto his chest, laughing and breathless.
“Paris…” I reach up, taking his face in my hands. “You’re serious?”
I must look absolutely insane, a manic grin sprawling ear-to-ear, but he looks just as silly with his bright white smile, all teeth. “You seem happy.”
“Owen!” I wrap both arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. Then I push back to look him in the eye. “Oh my God, I have to start packing now. Do we have an itinerary yet? I hope you know I’m gonna change it. Which arrondissement are we staying in? Do you remember the name of—”
“I’ll send you every detail as soon as we get back to my place,” he says, starting to kiss down my neck. “I did some research about what to do, but I figured you’d want to be involved in the planning.”
“Damn right,” I say, twining my fingers into his hair to keep his mouth on my skin. “Wait—what about Archie?”
Owen’s lips never leave my neck as he says, “Nolan.”
I sigh, and it’s joy and disbelief and desire, too. “That dog is gonna be so fat by the time I get home. His vet’s gonna kill me, but at least I’ll die happy.”
“I’m so happy you’re happy.”
“I’m… Paris,” I exhale, pulling back to meet his eyes. “This is the single most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.”
He smiles as he says, “You’re so welcome, gorgeous.”