Chapter 26
THEA
Camila’s offer is still churning in my mind later that afternoon when the family gathers in the ballroom.
I want to tell Owen about it before the family gossip train reaches him, but I need to find a way that doesn’t make the infuriating, self-sacrificing man pull away because he thinks he’s standing in my way.
We’re supposed to get everything set up for the next couple of days—the rehearsal dinner in here tomorrow and the reception the following day—and the room is swarmed with Ellises.
It’s beautiful, watching the way this family comes together.
The cousins are ridiculous and constantly mess with each other, but they show up in a way I didn’t think was real outside the sitcoms one of my foster brothers obsessively watched on Nick at Nite.
As soon as I arrive, I subtly make my way over to where Owen is unloading chairs from the cart. His back shifts with each stack he lifts, and I want to run my hand down it, experience the roll of his muscles with my fingertips like reading a book in braille.
“Hey, hot stuff,” I whisper when I get close.
Owen’s throat bobs, but he doesn’t look my way. “Hey, Thea.”
Well … that’s strange. Owen’s always the one watching me, sending me secret smiles and covert winks. Now, he won’t even look at me, and my stomach twists into knots.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m good.” He says, eyes still on the chairs. “Tommy, can you come unload these? I need to roll in some more tables.”
“You got it,” Tommy calls out, jogging over to the cart.
Owen claps him on the shoulder, then walks out of the ballroom.
And he still hasn’t looked at me.
What the fuck?
This is what I asked for. I told him we needed to keep everything between us quiet, that we couldn’t risk getting caught when we’re so close to making it through. I’m sure that’s all this is. How can I get upset at him for respecting my wishes?
Still, I can’t get my nervous system to listen to my very logical reasoning.
I’m jumpy, and I need to find something else to focus on, or I’ll spend the entire afternoon fixating on nothing.
Camila’s across the room, set up with a clipboard and ordering people around, the only thing that will keep her pregnant ass stuck to the chair Mira pulled over for her. Addy’s looking over the list with her.
“Where’s Diana?” I ask as I pull another chair next to them.
Camila winces. “She’s in bed with a migraine.”
The way she says the word “migraine” makes it clear she doesn’t believe it.
“She does this sometimes,” Camila continues.
“Adrian—that’s my oldest brother who you probably haven’t met yet—said he overheard Aunt Diana yelling at Owen about something in the kitchen this morning.
Whenever she gets upset, she needs time to ‘convalesce,’ which is code, in my opinion, for guilting Owen into doing whatever she wants. ”
Owen’s across the ballroom, and I clock the tightness of his shoulders and the straight line of his mouth. I hate that I can’t go up to him, take his hand between mine, and ask what happened.
Gabriel pops up beside me, breaking my focus on Owen and bobbing his eyebrows. “We’ve got everything set up for that sound check and rehearsal.”
I groan, dropping my head back even as a warmth blooms inside me. A part of me thought he’d forget, that it was part of his ploy to mess with Owen by flirting with me. It’s shocking that there’s a place on the stage for me even after he’s pulled back on all that.
He quirks that adorable smile, his blue-green eyes twinkling. “It’s always been my dream to sing with my wife.”
Okay, so mostly pulled back on the flirting.
Addy looks between us, her brows knitted together. “I thought you decided not to sing with them?”
“I thought it was okay,” I say in response, and Addy pastes on that fake smile. I hate the number of times I’ve been on the receiving end of it this week.
“Of course it’s okay. Have fun.”
She walks away to tick off one of the two thousand items on her to-do list without another word, and suddenly the ballroom is too cold. I have to make this better.
“Hey, Gabe,” I say, pulling him to a stop on his way to the stage.
“Yes, darling.”
I roll my eyes, but can’t stop my smile. “I’ll still sing with you, but I have a condition.”
I fill him in on the idea while we walk over to the stage.
The band and I chatted about their set list earlier, but this is our first time singing together.
We dive into a few of the songs I know well.
There are some hiccups, but once we get into the swing of it, I have the time of my life.
The cousins stop setting up to watch us, even as Camila yells from her perch about the schedule.
I have no illusions about the quality of our music.
It’s passable. We won’t be signing any recording contracts, but it’s fun.
We’re playing off each other, and I feel like I’m wanted and appreciated as Gabriel compliments me for the fortieth time.
My eyes track Owen in the crowd—the only cousin who keeps working. The temptation to jump off the stage and grab him, to force him to stop being so responsible all the time, is almost too much.
“How’re we doing, Ellises?” I call into the mic, and they cheer.
“We have a treat for you, but to make it happen, we need your help. I’m sure you’ve all been dreaming about my much more talented sister’s voice since the bar.
She’s been busy with wedding stuff, but she deserves some fun, too. Can y’all help me get her up here?”
Everyone starts clapping, those closest to Addy nudging her toward the stage. A light blush takes over her cheeks, and she looks at me with so much gratitude.
When we start our song, Owen finally stops moving.
My body is primed for his reaction, for the way he watched me at the bar, but he stares into the middle distance.
He meets my gaze briefly, then shoots away.
My stomach roils. It’s one thing to keep his distance while we’re working, but this feels different.
Just like that night at the bar, Owen makes me miss my cue, but this experience is so different. I’d felt like I was on fire then, slowly melting like a candle under Owen’s flame. I’m freezing now. How dare he pull his warmth away after making me dependent on it?
My concentration on Owen is broken when the song ends and Addy wraps her arms around my shoulders, whispering, “Thank you, Tia.”
Camila comes up on stage and unplugs my microphone. “That’s enough, sirens. They’ve gotta get some work done.”
Everyone grumbles except for Lynne, who jumps up on the stage with the wireless microphone they use for wedding MCs. “Or we can pass the time with a game? Cami can’t unplug this one!”
The microphone is clasped between both her hands like she’s a pop star.
Camila whines that there’s too much to do, and Lynne agrees not to start the game until everyone picks back up their jobs.
I’m rolling out another round table with Mira when I hear Lynne call out.
“Ellises and guests, welcome to the Newlywed Game. Single elimination, so don’t mess up.
We’ll start with Addy and Harrison versus the oldest couple in the room, Uncle Dennis and Aunt Patricia! ”
Dennis and Patricia holler about how they aren’t old while the rest of the family laughs.
Lynne dramatically shushes everyone, still clutching the microphone like a lifeline.
“I have a list of a hundred questions. The couples will go head-to-head, and the first to get one wrong is kicked off until there’s only one couple standing.
I need to help Cami oversee the setup, so who wants to be our MC for the day? ”
A dozen cousins rush for the stage, tripping and tackling each other until one of the twins—Tommy or Johnny, who can say—scrambles up in front of Lynne.
She smiles angelically, pushing the microphone into his hands.
He looks down with a furrowed brow a second before keys with a bright yellow key chain tumble from his hands, the metallic clang echoing through the room.
“Son of a bitch,” he screams into the microphone, so loud I cover my ears. “You tricked me!”
“If you weren’t so desperate to be the center of attention,” Lynne says, pleased with herself, “you wouldn’t have ended up on driving duty.”
“But Cole texted me they got a new whiskey for tonight!”
Lynne cups her cheeks in mock horror. “Oh no! What will you do?”
The Ellises howl in laughter.
“The night’s not here yet,” he says, looking out over the crowd with an almost demonic grin as he slips the keys into the back pocket of his jeans.
He starts up the game while the rest of us keep working.
Addy and Harrison take down Dennis and Patricia in one question, and as they exit the stage, the room can hear Patricia complaining that her husband of almost fifty years doesn’t know her favorite ice cream flavor.
Addy and Harrison make it through three more challengers before they’re dethroned by a couple I haven’t met yet.
The couples on the stage keep rotating after that, viciously arguing and taunting each other.
The Ellises don’t play when it comes to competition.
I’m shaking out a tablecloth when Camila’s scream echoes through the ballroom. Mira rushes to her side with terror etched on her face. Her feet stop in their tracks when she spots the telltale yellow key chain hanging from Camila’s fingers, a bag of Poppy popcorn mix spilled out at her feet.
“You can’t scream like that, Camila,” Mira yells, running her hands up into her hair.
Camila’s pointing at Gabriel, who has a shit-eating grin stretched across his face. “What the fuck, Gabriel?”
“Johnny paid me forty bucks to slip them into the bag and give it to you.”
“How?” she screams. “He’s been on the microphone the whole time!”
“Twin-tuition,” Johnny and Tommy—who’s on the stage with his boyfriend—say together. They high-five without looking.
“You can’t use my Asheville Mix cravings against me,” Camila whines. “That’s cheating.”
Gabriel turns to me. “Is there a rule against using pregnancy cravings?”
Camila begs with her eyes, but the rules must be maintained, so I shrug. “Sorry, Cami. It’s every man for himself in the Ellises, right?”
I glance over at Owen, looking for a smile or a laugh or anything, but he just stares blankly at me and walks away.
Something’s wrong, and I feel sick. There’s too much attention on me right now, but I’m sneaking away the second I can to corner him. He can’t spend the week making me obsessed with him, and then just take it all away without an explanation.
Mira holds out her hand. “I’ll take the damn keys.”
“No,” Camila says with the fire of a vengeance demon. “This isn’t over.”
“Maybe not,” Johnny says into the microphone, “but this round is, which means we’re out of couples, and we have a winner. Everyone give it up for my twin and Jayce, who are only a year and a half into their relationship and still wiped the floor with all y’all.”
“What about Owen and Thea?” Gabriel calls out, and I glare at him. “They haven’t had a turn.”
“We’re not together, asshole,” Owen says.
The room sucks in a breath. This isn’t the Owen everyone knows, the one who is sweet and accommodating.
That Owen would never curse in front of the family, would never call out Gabriel’s behavior like that.
He’d have walked onto the stage, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.
I’d be proud of him, if the way he was looking around the room didn’t feel like it was really aimed at me.
“But you were,” Gabriel says, unfazed by Owen’s callout. “And for almost as long as Tommy and Jayce. Don’t let Tommy win. We’ll never hear the end of it.”
I don’t get what’s happening—the scowl on Owen’s face and the way he won’t look at me directly. I want his smile back, the dimple I have to work for and the soft look in his eyes.
Owen’s jaw tenses. “Are we done?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, just slams his way out of the French doors.
“What was that about?” Addy asks while I blink at the door.
“I … I don’t know.”
It takes a few extra seconds, but then I charge after him. I run to catch up, calling out his name as he reaches the inn. He doesn’t pause, pushing through the front door.
He’s halfway up the first flight of stairs when I catch up to him. “What’s going on?”
Owen’s long legs don’t stop, eating up the space between him and the third floor where we’re both staying. “Nothing.”
“Oh yes,” I say, a teasing lilt to my voice that I hope will break through whatever’s going on in his head. “This definitely feels like nothing.”
My stomach drops further when he doesn’t respond, reaching his room and tapping his key card against the lock. He walks through the door without a backward glance. My instinct is to walk away, to say fuck it—fuck him—if that’s how he’s going to behave.
But he let me yell and rage. He was supportive when I was at my worst, and he deserves a bit of that patience given back to him. If he thinks this conversation is ending here, he doesn’t know me as well as I thought.