Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Matt lifted the cardboard lid on the fried rice and helped himself to a couple of spoonfuls. “Is there any more of the roast pork?”
Owen pushed the carton towards him. “Help yourself. There’s more chicken Chow Mein if you want it.” He reached out to take the last prawn cracker, and Matt growled. Owen burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, it’s yours.”
Matt beamed. “I knew you’d see it my way.” He gazed at the diminishing pile of boxes behind him. “We’re getting there.” The dining room looked less like a warehouse now. Three bookcases stood against the far wall, one already filled with DVDs.
Owen smiled. “Yeah. When you go home tonight, I might pick a favourite film and veg out on the couch with popcorn and maybe a beer. I’ve earned it.
” He glanced at Matt. “You don’t have to go, you know.
You could always join me. You could even pick the film.
” His eyes twinkled. “After today, I don’t think I’d be worried about your taste. ”
Matt chuckled. “I think our problem might be too many films to choose from.” His gaze drifted towards the DVDs, then to the sealed box beside them that contained the home movies.
Then there was the box of those other DVDs.
He took another mouthful of noodles.
Nothing about Owen seemed to fit neatly together.
He loved old films and history. He’d obviously adored his husband. The tenderness in his voice when he spoke about Ben had caught Matt off guard.
And yet he was once married to a woman who’s still one of his closest friends.
He was quiet, thoughtful, cultured—with a collection of gay porn large enough to stock a small shop.
Matt wasn’t judging him. He just didn’t understand him yet, and that made Owen even more interesting.
Mum described him and Cyn as inseparable. Everyone had assumed they’d end up together. And they had—until they hadn’t.
Matt frowned at his plate.
How does that happen? How do you marry your best friend, and years later realise the love of your life is someone else?
He genuinely couldn’t see the path between those two versions of Owen.
Perhaps there wasn’t one.
Perhaps there were a hundred tiny steps nobody else ever saw.
“You’ve gone quiet,” Owen observed.
Matt blinked. “Sorry. I was thinking.”
“That can be a dangerous pastime.” Owen pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair. “So what’s on your mind? If you can share it, of course.”
He hesitated. Maybe this was his chance to start joining the dots.
“There are a few things I don’t understand.”
Owen took a drink from his water glass before speaking. “I rather suspected there might be.”
Matt bit his lip. “Mum was talking about you when you were at uni. Except I’m now realising she only saw a part of you, not the whole picture.” He paused. “And then I saw you and Cyn.” Another pause. “Can I ask something a bit personal?”
Owen smiled. “You’ve earned one question.”
“Did you love Cyn?”
He sighed. “Very much.”
Matt took a deep breath. “Then why didn’t it work?”
Owen didn’t answer immediately. He folded the paper napkin between his fingers, buying himself a few seconds.
“Because there are different kinds of love.” Matt frowned, and Owen met his gaze.
“Cyn was my best friend. She still is, in many ways. I admired her, trusted her, laughed with her. I loved raising Callum with her. If you’d asked me back then whether I loved my wife, I’d have answered yes without hesitation.
” He looked down at the table. “What I didn’t understand was that there was another kind of love I’d spent my whole life trying to ignore. ”
Matt said nothing.
“It wasn’t that my love for Cyn disappeared.” Owen’s voice was quiet. “It was that I finally stopped pretending the rest of me didn’t exist.”
“Can you tell me the whole story?” Matt gave him a beseeching glance. “Because I’d really like to understand.”
“It’s not a particularly flattering story.”
Matt smiled. “The best ones rarely are.”
2011
Owen stood at the kitchen window, watching the last of the daylight disappear beyond the fence. He’d been standing there long enough for the kettle to grow cold.
Behind him, the television clicked off.
Cyn chuckled. “Callum waited until bedtime to tell me all about his day. His science lesson, of all things. Our son is fascinated by electricity. I have visions of him sticking a fork into a plug socket just to see what happens.”
“He’s too sensible for that. Besides, that conversation was just another excuse to stay awake.”
“Oh, absolutely.” She laughed. “Tomorrow it’ll be dinosaurs. Or volcanoes. Whatever buys him another five minutes.”
The kitchen fell quiet again.
Owen kept staring out into the gathering darkness. A moment later, she stood beside him, leaning against the worktop.
“You’ve been somewhere else all week.” Her voice softened. “Not physically. Just… here.” She touched her own temple.
He closed his eyes. “I know.”
She rested a hand between his shoulder blades. “Is it work? A problem with the business?”
“No.”
“Money?”
He shook his head.
“Your mum?”
“No.”
She waited.
Owen loved that about her. Cyn had never felt the need to fill every silence. She understood that sometimes he needed one to find the words.
Tonight, he wasn’t sure the words existed.
His chest tightened. What he was about to do would change both their lives forever. He’d spent sixteen years protecting this secret.
“Owen…”
He drew a slow breath. “I don’t think I can keep pretending anymore.” The corners of his eyes pricked.
“You’re frightening me.” He turned, and she stared at him. “Oh God. What is it? Are you ill?”
“No, I’m not ill.”
“Then tell me.”
His mouth was dry. “I…” He stopped again.
She reached for his hands. “They’re freezing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Owen…”
“I’m so, so sorry.”
Now she really looked frightened. “For what?”
He stared at their joined hands. “I think…” He took another breath, then realised he had to see her face. He raised his chin. “I’m gay.”
She gave him a tiny, confused smile. “That’s not funny.”
“And that’s why I’m not laughing.”
Cyn blinked. She searched his face—and then let go of his hands. “You’re not gay.”
“I wish that were true.”
She stared at him for what felt like forever. “When?”
He frowned. “What?”
“When did this happen?”
He almost laughed. It was the same question he’d spent years asking himself.
“It didn’t happen. I… I’ve always been like this.”
Her face tightened. “Oh.” She swallowed. “Oh. Wow. That explains a lot.”
“What do you mean?”
Another swallow. “I thought you just didn’t want me anymore.”
Shit.
Owen closed his eyes. “God, Cyn… no. I loved being with you. I still do.”
“But?”
“I kept waiting for the rest. The passion. I thought it would come.”
“If you’re telling me this now, I’m guessing it never did.”
His throat seized. “No.”
“Have you met someone? Is that it?”
He shook his head immediately. “No.”
“Then why now?”
Owen took a long breath and opened his eyes. “Because every day I don’t tell you, I lie to my best friend.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. “So you always knew.”
Owen shook his head. “No.” She frowned, and he knew he had to tell her everything. “I knew I was different.” He swallowed. “But I spent years convincing myself I could ignore it.” He hesitated. “Before you—before we started dating—there was someone.” Another hard swallow. “Professor Stevens.”
Her frown deepened, and then she froze. “Baby Prof?”
He nodded. “We’d become close.” Except that one word didn’t even come near to describing them.
“Were you in love with him?”
Owen nodded. “I think so.” For the first time in his life he’d stopped pretending to himself.
“What happened?”
“He wanted us to be together. He had this whole plan for after graduation. A life that included me.”
“And?”
Owen sighed. “I was twenty-one.” He bit his lip.
“My parents would never have accepted it. My father would’ve disowned me.
My mother would’ve pretended I didn’t exist. Most of our friends would’ve looked at me differently.
Not that I could imagine telling anyone.
” Another swallow, but there was now a lump in his throat.
“So I walked away. I convinced myself that if I could do it once, I could keep walking away forever.”
She stared at him. “You were frightened.”
He huffed. “I was terrified.”
“So you left him.”
Another nod. “I told myself it had just been a phase.”
Cyn closed her eyes. “Oh, Owen.”
“I told myself I wasn’t really gay. That I’d simply been confused.”
“And then you asked me on a date.”
He nodded. “You were already my best friend. Well, you and Jeff. You made me laugh. You challenged me. You understood me.” The prick of tears came once more. “I already loved you.”
“But not—”
“No. Not like…” He couldn’t lie now. “Not like I loved him.”
A tear slid down her cheek. She looked at him as though she no longer recognised the man standing in front of her.
“So…” Her voice cracked on the syllable. “You’ve been in love with someone else…” She swallowed. “…for our entire marriage.”
Owen’s heart lurched. “No.”
“No? Because that’s how it looks from my angle.”
He shook his head. “Professor Stevens has been out of my life for sixteen years.”
“But you just said—”
“I loved him. Past tense.” His voice broke. “I loved him then.”
She searched his face. “And me?”
“I loved you too.”
Cyn’s eyes locked on his. “But differently.”
He couldn’t reply.
That was answer enough.
She turned away from him, gripping the edge of the worktop with both hands.
“I don’t even know what to ask first.” She took a breath. “So why marry me?”
“Because walking away from him hurt.” He shuddered out a breath. “And after surviving that, I honestly believed I’d proved I could live without that part of myself.” He forced out a bitter laugh. “I thought I’d beaten it.”
“You thought choosing me meant you’d won.”
“Yes.” Another pause. “I wasn’t trying to deceive you.”
“No?” A note of incredulity had crept into her voice.
“I thought I’d already made the hardest choice of my life.” His shoulders sagged. “I thought loving you would be enough.”
“Enough for who?”
He stared.