13. Girl Problems #3
“God no,” he scoffs. “By the time she came home, I’d long given up hope.” The way he says it, so matter-of-fact, makes me think it’s more than Elodie he’s given up on.
“What about your picket fence?” I ask, realizing too late that I said it out loud.
“Sometimes it doesn’t matter how badly you want something, Finley. What kind of woman—person,” he corrects himself, almost shyly, “I think I can now admit I don’t have a preference—is going to want to settle for a man like me?”
That statement sparks something sharp and furious in my chest. Fuck Elodie. And fuck anyone who’s ever made Owen feel like the gift he is somehow isn’t enough.
“There’s no settling about it,” I snap. The sharp edge in my voice pulls his attention back to me, and good. I want him to look me in the eye for this. “You’re a fucking ten, Owen. And I’m not talking about your body. I’m talking about what’s in here.”
I jab a finger at his chest, making him flinch.
“You are one of the kindest, most selfless people I’ve ever met.
You’re crazy intelligent, and the way you laugh is infectious.
You’re steady and protective—a fierce friend, an incredible uncle and brother.
You show up for your community. You fight for what’s right.
You literally picked me up off the side of the road and gave me a job and a home without knowing a single thing about me.
Not once have you made me feel like I’m less than, when I have absolutely nothing to my name. ”
My voice softens, but I don’t look away. “Why would you ever believe you don’t have anything to offer? Being able to love you would be the greatest gift anyone could ask for. Not everyone wants sex.”
Some people want stability and certainty, a best friend to crawl into the arms of every night. God, all they want are forehead kisses and quiet moments, to see their own adoration reflected back in their partner’s eyes. They want to know their thoughts and dreams are safe—cherished—by their person.
Some people only want to finally feel at home.
“There’s so much more to a relationship. Surely you know that.”
He lets out a long sigh, offering me the smallest smile before it fades just as quickly.
“I’m sure there’s someone out there who’d be okay with what I can’t give them.
I know I can’t be the only person to experience this.
But it feels like searching for a needle in a haystack.
I’m not sure my heart could survive the amount of rejection it would take to find them. ”
I swallow my frustration. I’m clearly not going to get anywhere pushing like this.
People who’ve convinced themselves they aren’t worthy of something need more than a passionate speech to believe otherwise—I of all people should know.
It’s unfair of me to think I could undo years of self-doubt and hurt in a few minutes.
That I could unravel the belief he’s better off alone.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, more tentative now as I shift gears. It takes him a moment, but he dips his chin in agreement. “You kissed me.”
Those piercing green eyes meet mine, amusement flickering. “That’s not a question.”
Alright, smart ass.
“The question is, why? What were you feeling when you took my face in your hands? What did you see when you looked into my eyes? Leave all the other stuff—the doubts and preconceived notions—out of it for a second. What made you close the distance?”
He surprises me by lifting a hand to my face, and for one heart-stopping moment, I think he might kiss me again. But he catches himself, dropping it before his thumb can brush my lower lip.
“That’s the part of all this that scares me the most, Finley.” His voice is barely more than a whisper. “You make me want things I’ve spent years convincing myself I don’t need.”
“Like what?”
“Things I have no business asking you for.”
“Ask for them anyway,” I murmur, matching his tone. “Don’t I get a say? Don’t I deserve the chance to tell you no, if that’s how I really feel?”
“I—”
The sharp ring of his phone cuts him off—because of course it fucking does. At this point, it’s almost laughable how many times something has almost happened between us, only to be ripped away before I can close my fingers around it.
Ignore it. Please. Tell me what you want.
Owen’s gaze drops to the screen, his sister’s name and smiling face lighting it up. At least he has the decency to look put out by the interruption. I know what he’s going to say before the words leave his mouth. “I’ve got to take this.”
I can’t even blame him. He’d do anything for his sister.
Take her call every time. And it’s that simple truth which reminds me how worthy he is of the love he’s convinced himself he’ll never have.
It’s the same truth that settles something deep in my chest. I’m going to show him he deserves it, whether that ends up being with me… or someone else.
He doesn’t wait for my response before slipping past me and heading into the bedroom to take the call. The soft hum of “Hey there, Delilah” is the last thing I hear before the door clicks shut.