Page 56 of The Reality of Us
She rubbed her face, needing to do something—anything—with her hands. The knitting circle would be good for her too. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “It’s come together so well.”
Eloise tilted her head to the side. “Is everything okay? I thought you’d be a bit more excited. You’ve worked really hard on all this, Alice. You should be proud of yourself.”
Alice was. She’d worked harder on this than … well, anything ever. But ever since the other night, she’d been distracted, unable to focus. She’d avoided Owen, convinced he would agree that it had all been a mistake. He might even ask her to move out, and then she’d be in real trouble. At least she could hide in the shearing shed for a few days. God knows she’d been there from dawn until well after dark for days now. Her phone buzzed, and she looked at the screen.
Chris. Again. Now Phoenix was waiting to hear if he’d get bail, her old manager had been calling, trying to coax her back into the fold. He texted again immediately, another five-figure offer for an interview.
She tried to smile, but her face was all wobbly. “Got a lot on my mind.”
“Anything you want to talk about?” Eloise asked.
Alice looked at the vintage rug under their feet. It was a mixture of pastel triangles—blues, pinks, and purples—with frayed edges the colour of dried wheat. She’d bet it was from Lulu’s.
“Oh, no. I don’t—” she started, the urge to tuck her hair behind her ears again so strong she had to settle for biting her lip. “It’s fine. Thanks for asking, though.”
Eloise smiled, her delicate features softening as she squeezed Alice’s arm. “Sure? I’m here if you ever change your mind.”
Alice swallowed and licked her lips. Could she? She hadn’t had a friend to confide in … in years. Well, except for Dougie and Rico. And as much as she loved them, the thought of ringing them now, interrupting their fancy pants jobs and telling them she’d slept with her ‘hot’ lawyer … after Phoenix came to her for help but got arrested, filled her with anxiety. Yet another dramatic turn of events she could have avoided if she’d only used some commonsense years ago.
She took a deep breath, the lavender flowing from the diffuser in the corner tickling her nose. “I slept with Owen,” she blurted.
Eloise blinked twice and then burst out laughing.
Maybe Alice had been wrong. Friendship was overrated.
“I’m so, so sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”
Alice stared at her fingernails, the coral polish she’d applied last night was already chipped.
Eloise reached for her hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. I was just wondering what took you so long based on the way Owen always looks at you. I’m sure he’s very happy this happened.”
Alice fiddled with the pile of proofs Eloise had printed for her.
“Did he say something afterwards that made you think he wasn’t?”
“Teddy came home unexpectedly, so Owen snuck out. We haven’t spoken since.” She tapped the pictures against Eloise’s desk, making sure the edges were straight. “I’ve been avoiding his calls.” She hadn’t even responded to his message telling her that the fourteen-year-old who overdosed was going to be fine.
Eloise clucked her tongue, and Alice dragged her gaze away from the photos. “Trust me,” she said. “Owen James doesn’t ever do anything he doesn’t want to. None of the James brothers do. Believe me. I know all about that, but this isn’t about me. You should talk to Owen.”
“But what would I say? ‘Hi, the sex was great. Can I have some more, please? Oh, but by the way, I don’t want anything serious because I’m still married to the guy in jail. Call me!’ Going to be super hard for him to resist me.”
Eloise leant back in her chair. “You won’t know if you don’t ask him.”
The problem was Alice didn’t know which answer would be better for her new life. Owen was already so far under her skin it was scary.
20
Owen scrolled through his emails as he waited for Lulu to return with the items she’d chosen for his new house. Exactly how many cushions does a person need? She emerged with two bags, the muted cream fabric of the top cushion coordinating nicely with the mustard blanket next to it.
“You sound a lot like your father,” she said.
His fingers stilled. “What?”
“There’s no such thing as too many cushions.”
Owen hadn’t realised he’d said it out loud. Chalk yet another thing up to the haze of distraction he’d been stuck in all week.
“Did you find someone for the race?”
