Page 30 of Owen

Having never paid much attention to kids, or babies, before, I watch with fascination as Poppy tries to feed herself with the grace of an elephant doing ballet, while noisily bouncing her sippy cup full of water off the tray.

Poppy holds out a piece of squished banana for me to take. “You have it,” I tell her. “Poppy’s, not Owen’s.” I point to her and she takes that as permission to smoosh it into her mouth.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful now?” I chuckle as Poppy makesnum numnoises.

“She likes you,” Mari says with a smile.

I straighten out my wet shorts that are stuck to my legs. “That’s because I fed her earlier, and made her tummy feel like she was on a roller coaster in the pool.”

“The perfect way to a girl’s heart, Owen; food and laughter.” A smirk plays along her lips. “But I didn’t mean Poppy. I meant Jade.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“She spoke to me this morning before she shot off. She said she had a great night.” Mari smiles cheekily. “She looked happy.Glowing. Then she told me to find the panties she misplaced in the pool last night.”

Oh, my freaking God.

My face heats with embarrassment. “She’s adventurous,” is all I say, feeling slightly uncomfortable and not wanting to give anything away. She’s a daredevil and likes to live life on the edge doing insane flips and loops in that plane of hers.

“She said she went for a midnight dip.” She watches me squirm in my uncomfortable plastic seat. “By herself.”

“Right.” My throat dry, I audibly gulp and lean forward to take a mouthful of my juice.

“Did you not get a taxi home together?”

“No,” I lie.

“Hmmm.” She taps her chin with her pointer finger. “You know, I’m pretty certain when Gregor came over this morning, he asked Jade if she got home safely.” She theatrically pauses. “With you.”

My lemonade goes down the wrong way, making me cough and splutter everywhere. Poppy blows a raspberry in response as I wipe down my torso, which is now covered.

“That’s what I thought,” Mari mutters under her breath.

I clench my hand, coughing into it while I grab the pack of disposable wet wipes off the table to clean myself up.

“My girls are special to me, Owen.” Through narrowed eyes, she stares me down.

Clearing my throat, I scrunch the now dirty wet wipes into a neat ball and place them in the middle of the table.

“My husband died last year and they’re all I have.” Sounding melancholy, Mari lets out a deep sigh.

Nodding in response, I understand everything she’s not saying.Don’t hurt her.

Mari leans over and casually wipes the creamy banana out of Poppy’s curls. “Tell me about yourself, Owen. What’s going on in your world and how long do you plan on sticking around?” She pulls a baby wipe from the packet to clean her hands. “I know you fled here to get away from a marriage you didn’t want.” Preparing myself, I blow out a breath and tell Mari everything I told Jade last night.

She’s watching me intently as I finish, then says the most unexpected thing that blows me sideways. “You’re a man of honor and integrity.”

I disagree; that couldn’t be further from the truth. If I were honorable, I would have married Evangeline. “That’s not what my family thinks.”Or me.

“Well, it’s true. Your feelings are valid, Owen. Above all else, you honored them and stayed true to yourself. Being honorable doesn’t mean pleasing your family or anyone else. It means being honest and true to yourself.”

“You mean selfish,” I scoff.

“No,” she says firmly, swiping her hands through the air in front of her as if casting my words aside. “You believed in the truth and stood by it, knowing neither of you would be happy if you had gotten married. That rotten feeling you had in your gut as you stood at the altar is very telling; it was your inner alarm system going off, warning you of what your future held if youwent through with it. And you knew it was unfair to put her, and yourself, through a loveless marriage. You did the right thing for both of you, regardless of what your family believes.” She leans forward and grabs my hand, then pats it. “You have principles, and you broke the archaic family tradition of what they distinguish as marriage. Marrying her for stature and financial stability, and vice versa, was a recipe for disaster.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, yes, I do,” she replies, staring me down. “My father’s views on who I married weren’t exactly liberal. He expected me to become a nurse and marry a doctor or a surgeon. He even signed me up for nursing college behind my back. The day I came home and told him I had signed up to join the Royal Air Force as a clerical assistant, he was horrified. And that got worse when he discovered the weeks of grueling basic training I had to go through. Crawling through muddy grounds and obstacle courses, cleaning the blocks, field exercises, camping, chemical and biological lessons, rifle work, prepping uniforms, and shining shoes.” She chuckles as if remembering. “After basic training, I started on the lowest pay grade, living in single living accommodation in a room no bigger than a sardine can. Oh, no, my father was not happy at all. It wasn’t very ladylike.” She nods. “His words, not mine. But it’s how I met Andrew.”

---