Page 73 of Staying for You

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good.”

“What’s happening with Mr. Sexy Resort Owner?”

“We’re friends.”

She scoffs, knowing that I’m only giving her a half-truth. “He’s good for you.” She counters and I don’t deny it. Fact is, he is good for me. The last few weeks together have been fun and inspiring. I wrote an entire book in a little over a week because I finally felt inspired and enjoyed writing again. And that’s because of Owen.

It’s not a surprise that the hero greatly resembles him. After we went sledding, he sent me to my cabin to get cleaned up then brought some wood down and showed me how to start a fire. He listened to me when I explained why I was up here and when I explained that I had already sent some chapters to Gretchen, he said I needed to focus on writing. I wanted to tell him that I needed to focus on other things, but he was right.

The thing is, once I finished writing the one book, I immediately launched into another. Once the words started pouring out of me again, they wouldn’t stop. And I didn’t want them to. I’ve been at The Escape for five weeks which means I only have one left here. I’ve written one and a half books and discovered more about myself than ever before.

He had me put together all my dirty laundry on three separate occasions and let me do my laundry at his apartment. It was something I hadn’t even thought about when I decided to hide away in Northern Minnesota for six weeks. During my self-discovery, I learned why sex on a dryer is a thing which only led to sex on the living room floor and on the kitchen counter. On laundry days, I would leave my laptop behind and allow Owen’s inspiration to become ingrained in my memory. We’d talk and laugh. Play pool and foosball in the rec room at the lodge. We’d break out the playing cards and sit at the kitchen table and get lost for hours in games of Gin Rummy.

And our nights would end with my laundry folded and stacked in laundry baskets and me asleep in his bed after hours of discovering more about my body and his.

Those aren’t the only times we’ve seen each other. He’ll stop in at my cabin with lunch or dinner or a breakfast burrito, not judging me for my unkempt appearance because of falling in love with my laptop for days on end. My groceries came close to running out last week and he made me give him a list, went to town for me and brought everything inside when he returned. I’ve never had anyone buy groceries for me or care for me the way Owen does.

Part of me loves it. Part of me hates it. Because the more he does, the harder I fall. And the harder I fall, the harder it will be for me to leave in one week.

He took me down to the new cabins he is in the process of building and showed me around the two new ones he built a few years ago. It’s impressive, to say the least. I see his passion in the way his eyes light up talking about it. I’ve never seen a person belong somewhere like Owen belongs to The Escape.

It’s as if his life was meant for owning a resort. He talks about the things he wants to bring and ways he encourages family time during the busy summer months. I wish I could come back here and see it all unfold.

His plans for a larger playground area for little kids is so amazing. Well thought out and I just know the families are going to love it. He works with a local family who has a food truck and another who has a wood fire stove they pull on a trailer to different locations. Both come to The Escape each week. By Owen’s account, families who’ve never met gather together for a communal meal, of sorts. Everyone is there for a common purpose. To connect. Teenagers talk about their days on the lake and what they caught with adults who are complete strangers but who listen intently and offer up their own stories.

It’s exactly what he wanted and the fact that he has this vision that he’s living every day warms my heart. Not many people have the opportunity like he does and he doesn’t take a single day of it for granted.

Just like when I plot a book, he’s always mapping out new possibilities for the resort. He talks with other resort owners about what’s working for them and isn’t afraid to use innovative ideas from others and change them to be his own. However, the way it sounds, others are using his ideas far more than he’s using theirs.

So yeah, he’s inspiring. For so many reasons.

“Did I lose ya?”

“I’m here.”

“Just thinking of him again?”

I don’t respond to that because she knows I was.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asks quietly.

“Of course.”

“One week,” she reminds me of my time limit I have for spending time with Owen.

“I know,” I snap.

“Just saying, Cami. I know you. Probably as well or better than you know yourself. And I’ve never heard you talk about a guy like you talk about Owen. If it’s not permanent, you might want to start thinking about how to protect and distance yourself from him before you’re too far gone.”

I know all this. I feel myself falling. Five weeks together — well, technically less time than that but I’m not about to pull out a calendar — and that’s all it’s taken. I just can’t stop myself from continuing what we have.

Friends with benefits.

It seems so… small compared to what we have. But it’s also not as if we’re in a relationship, either. We sleep together and talk and laugh.

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