Page 77 of The Reality of Us
“Will you be back soon? I have good news,” she sing-songed, her enthusiasm cutting at him like a knife. “And I want to hear about how your big case went.”
Owen exhaled. It was pointless pretending he didn’t want to see her, and he’d promised that he wouldn’t play games. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
Alice’s voice deepened, reminding him of how she sounded when she woke up. “Hurry, please. I owe you an apology.”
Owen’s mouth went dry when he saw Alice. Her hair was mussed, like she’d been running her hands through it and her cheeks were pink. Even in the low glow filtering out from his little studio, he could see how bright her eyes were. When Murphy ran towards him, tail wagging furiously, Owen was glad. He needed a minute.
“Hey buddy,” Owen said as Alice stood and smoothed out her jacket.
As if she knew what he needed to hear, Alice stepped closer, a nervous expression on her face. “I’m sorry about this morning,” she said.
“I was only trying to help.”
She tugged his hands out of his pockets and linked their fingers together. Alice lifted her face to his, her skin clean, scrubbed free of make-up. This was his favourite Alice, the one not many people got to see.
“I’m not good at accepting help.” Her voice was quiet, but she didn’t look away from him. “Never have been. And you’re the last person I want to see my mistakes.”
“Why?” His gaze dropped to her neck, knowing the delicate skin there would flush if she was embarrassed. It was another little Alice secret he’d been collecting, adding to his treasure trove of information about her. The telltale pink tinge warmed him, reaffirming he wasn’t wrong. He knew her.
She dropped her chin and sighed, her grip on his hands tightening like she was gathering her courage. “Because I don’t want you to think I’m stupid.”
There it was again. That word. Stupid. He shook his head, unable to believe it had taken him so long to figure this out. When she’d first referred to herself as stupid, he’d brushed it away, not able to fathom why she’d think that … which, ironically, was stupid of him. But this was a bigger issue than he’d realised. Alice had been made to feel this way her whole life.
He opened his arms wider until she got the hint, stepping into his embrace and wrapping hers around his waist. “I will never think that,” he punctuated each word with a kiss to her forehead, her cheeks and then finally her lips. “But I would like for you to talk to me.” He cleared his throat. “In the past, I’ve not always been good at doing that myself. Maybe we could try together?”
Alice nodded, brushing her lips across his before resting her head against his chest. “I can do that.” He guided her to the Adirondack chair next to his front door and pulled her onto his lap.
He traced her lips with a finger when she shivered. “Cold?” he asked.
Wordlessly, she shook her head, pressing their foreheads together. “Something really good happened today. Something I never imagined. Maybe I could tell you about it?”
“I’d like that,” he murmured.
“Lulu, Joan and Eloise rallied the troops for an impromptu candle making class tonight.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“We made so many that I’ve run out of wax. And packed all the orders from this week. All these people turned up to help me unasked. I mean, there was a killer grazing plate and pizza and a fair bit of wine, but …”
“I don’t think they were lured in by carbohydrates and charcuterie, honey. They wanted to help you, not because they could,” he corrected her, “but because they like you and want you to do well. We look after each other out here. Look at what everyone’s been doing lately for you.”
Oh, well done, asshole, Owen said to himself. Reminding Alice about her freak-out over her mistake wasn’t a smart idea.
Alice’s quiet laugh and teasing eye roll surprised him. “We, huh? Do you mean the town or you and me? Are we a ‘we’?”
“Uh, both? Maybe?” Owen rubbed his neck.
Alice surprised him again, pulling his face towards hers. “Good.”
Good? What the hell did that mean?
“Okay?” Later, once he’d figured out what was going on, Owen would revisit how he managed to pack so much doubt into one four-letter word.
She smacked him lightly, rolling her eyes again. “Stop panicking. It’s okay for us to be a ‘we’.”
“It is?” His voice cracked like he was thirteen years old again.
“I think we might be dating, Owen. Is that okay with you?”
