“Her stuff?” he laughs, stepping aside to let me in.
“Yeah, a litter box and food and water bowls.”
“Glad you came prepared.” He takes Tulip from me, and I dash back to the car to grab Tulip’s bag. I’m tempted to bring my overnight bag in with me, giving myself permission to stay the night here.
And by stay the night I mean have sex with Owen.
I shake that thought right out of my head, telling myself I don’t remember what his thick cock looks like. I have no recollection of that vein that runs down his shaft or the way his balls feel in my hands.
Owen shuts the door behind me once I’m in the house, and the smell of whatever he made for dinner wafts through the house.
“Dinner smells amazing,” I tell him, taking off my shoes. It’s a habit of mine to take off my shoes as soon as I’m inside a house. Owen isn’t wearing any, and I hate how something as meaningless as shoes can cause me so much stress. Take them off or leave them on?
Once I went to a party in college and was the only one who took off their shoes. I didn’t realize until halfway through—dammit. I’m doing it again. I’ll save that random embarrassing story for another day, waking me from a dead sleep or something
“Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells.” Owen sets the carrier down and bends over, unzipping the top so Tulip can get out.
“She can’t jump,” I tell him. “Her front leg is broken.”
“Awww, poor girl.” He gently takes her out and to my surprise, she doesn’t hiss at him. I think she’s so shocked and upset to be somewhere new again she’s not even reacting. Or maybe she just likes him.
“Thanks again for letting me bring her. Those dogs want nothing more than to play with her until she’s dead. She’s getting up there in age, and I worry about what the stress will do. And I know, I sound like a crazy cat lady. But with my work hours and living in an apartment, a dog wasn’t really an option. Plus she’s a nice cat.”
Owen chuckles and sets Tulip on the area rug in the foyer. “It’s okay. I like both cats and dogs. Cats are easier.”
I nod in agreement and then set up Tulip’s stuff in the bathroom downstairs. I wash my hands and meet Owen in the kitchen. The table in the breakfast nook has been set, and I’m almost afraid to look and see how much—or little—effort he put into this.
I don’t want candles and wine.
But I hope for more than a frozen pizza and cans of pop.
What I get is a perfect mixture of both. There is a bottle of red wine on the table, but there aren’t any candles or even flowers.
“Is that chicken tetrazzini?” I ask, looking at the dish on the table.
“It is,” he tells me and pulls out a chair for me to sit. “Do you like it?”
“I love it!” I take a seat, mouth watering as I look at the pasta in front of me. Owen takes a seat across from me and pours us both wine. The last thing I need is anything clouding my judgment, but dammit, this red goes so well with the pasta.
“I’ve never made it before,” Owen confesses. “So if it’s not good, let me have a redo another day.”
My fingers wrap around the stem of my wine glass. “Is that your way of saying you purposely sabotaged dinner to get me to come over again?”
“It wasn’t, but now I’m wishing I’d thought of that.” His eyes flash and that grin takes over his face, fanning the old flames that I’m trying so hard to stomp out. I take a drink of wine, fully knowing how flammable alcohol is.
“That dress looks good on you,” Owen tells me as he starts to dish out dinner. “You always liked fruit patterns.”
My eyes go to my dress. It’s an off-the-shoulder white dress, with a pattern of printed lemons on it. My heart jolts in my chest, and a weird sensation takes me over. It’s been so long.
We’ve put years between us.
And even more miles.
Yet every little thing comes rushing back right to the surface. The love we had for each other. The way we knew each other better than we knew ourselves.
The pain.
The absolute heartache.
Crying until my eyes were so red and swollen I had no tears left.
“I do, and I don’t really know why. Though, right now lemons are kinda trendy. Pineapples still are too, which I like. They’re cheerful,” I supply with a shrug. Owen puts a big serving of chicken and pasta on my plate, and I take a piece of garlic bread from the bowl in the center of the table.