Chapter Fifteen Happy Anniversary #4
“So, I wasn’t a priority either,” Jacob says, coming to the conclusion at the same time that Owen does.
“No, I guess you weren’t.”
As their words falter, the music from the piano comes to a calming end, and Owen realizes that they’re the only two people
left in the restaurant. Owen watches Jacob as he shuts his eyes. “I didn’t want this to go poorly,” he explains. “I’m sorry,
Owen. I really am.”
“I am too,” he replies.
“Do you think there’s any way for us to pick back up where we were? Before I decided to be an idiot?”
Owen cracks a genuine smile. “Which time?” he asks, trying for a joke.
Jacob chuckles. “Fair question.”
“I . . .” Owen starts, wondering just what he’s going to say. “I want you to come back,” Owen admits. “I want that more than
anything in the world, to get to sleep in the same bed as you, to make dinner with you, to sit in Dolores Park and read or
wander around the Sunset with nothing particular in mind other than just enjoying the day.”
“I want that too,” Jacob says.
“But if you come back, it has to be your choice,” Owen says. “Not mine.”
“You know what I have to pick, then . . . don’t you?” Jacob asks with nothing but honesty in his voice. Because even if it
goes unsaid, Owen knows the truth, he knows the answer to Jacob’s question.
“Yeah.” He nods. “I do.”
Jacob gives him a sympathetic look, the light behind his eyes dimming a bit as the candle on the table flickers out.
“Come on.” Owen holds out his hand once again, offering it to Jacob. “Let’s get back.”
As they reboard the ship, they’re greeted by the cruise staff, and Owen seizes Jacob’s hand, deciding for the both of them that they’re going to take the scenic route back to the room.
“Where are we going?” Jacob asks, following like he has no choice.
“Just around,” Owen says, not sure of the answer himself. “I want to enjoy tonight a little longer.”
“I guess I’ll allow it,” Jacob says.
Neither of them knows how long their stroll lasts. They mostly stick to the outdoor walkways, and when Owen shudders against
a gust of cold air, Jacob slips his arms out of the sleeves of his jacket, draping it over Owen. He doesn’t even bother politely
rejecting the offer; it’s cold. And the jacket smells like Jacob. Earthy, like his cologne.
“Here,” Owen says as they step onto one of the viewing decks. The moon hangs in the sky, reflecting off the surface of the
pitch-black ocean as the water laps calmly at the side of the boat.
Without looking, his arms still tucked in close to his chest, Owen extends his right hand across his stomach, reaching for
Jacob. As if reading Owen’s mind, Jacob does the same, their fingers intertwining.
“I am sorry,” Jacob says. “For ruining dinner.”
“You didn’t ruin dinner, Jacob,” Owen tells him. “Do you understand why I told you I can’t make the choice for you?”
He nods slowly. “I’m sorry for putting you in that situation.”
Owen smiles. “Apology accepted.”
He’s felt like an idiot since they left the restaurant. Owen could say the words and Jacob would come rushing back to the States, to him, consequences be dammed. But he knows that he can’t do that. Because it’s not the right decision for either of them.
“I wanted to hate you.” Owen can’t fathom why he’s continuing this conversation now of all times, but he decides to go for
it. “For months, I tried to convince myself that you were worth hating, that I never wanted to see you again. I even practiced
arguments in the shower.”
Owen feels a heat behind his eyes, the unsettling sting behind his jaw.
“But I couldn’t,” he finally admits. “The truth is, I’ve never hated you for a single second, Jacob. No matter how hard I
tried.” Owen finally turns to look at Jacob. There’s no pity in his gaze, no shame, nothing but understanding and patience.
“Because I don’t know how to fall out of love with you. And I don’t think I ever want to know what that feels like.”
Jacob takes a heavy, unsure breath. “I don’t want to either,” he finally says. “I tried. I saw a therapist for a while to
try and work out my feelings.”
“Really?”
Jacob nods solemnly. “We ended up not being a great fit. But you were the thing we talked about the most in those few appointments.
He thought I needed to grieve, and I told him that no one died.” He lets out a pathetic laugh. “And he explained that I needed
to give myself time, that I’d eventually learn to let go of the feelings and that I’d move on.”
“What did you say to him?” Owen asks, unable to stop himself.
“I asked what to do if I don’t want to move on.” Jacob takes a deep sigh. “I don’t think he realized that I was serious at first. He just stared, which I guess is fair. Most therapists would probably be pretty skeptical of telling a client to get back with an ex.”
“Do you think that we can still have these last few days?” Owen asks. “Knowing all this?”
Jacob gnaws the inside of his cheek. “I’d like to, if you’re up for it.”
Funnily enough, despite the turmoil of the night, when Owen looks at Jacob, he feels the sort of peace that he only really
feels when he tattoos. That calm quiet in his mind. “Yeah. I’d like that too.”