Kacie and I followed Owen into the Carter's house. He had pulled me along for a few steps on the sidewalk, but we were no longer hand-in-hand by the time we made our way inside.
The gingerbread house was at least as impressive as he promised. It was set up on the kitchen island with several people sitting around it, placing candies here and there. Abby and Andy were both working on it along with Andy's wife, Layla. Shelby, Liam, and Mrs. Carter were standing on the other side so that they could work on the back of the house. Shelby was the first to say something when she saw us come in.
"Hey!" she said. She was several years older than us, and I sort of assumed most of the Bishops had a distaste for me, so it surprised me that she was the first to speak up.
"Y'all got smart and came in out of the cold," Mrs. Carter said.
In spite of there being so many people standing around, there was still plenty of room around the grand kitchen island, so the three of us easily found a front row spot. I leaned against the marble countertop, taking in the gingerbread house, which was even larger than Owen built it up to be.
"Is this seriously made out of cookie?" Kacie asked in awe. She reached out and carefully touched a brown spot on the wall of the house with her fingertips.
"Everything's edible," Mrs. Carter said proudly. She picked up one of the small gingerbread men that were stacked over to one side. "You're welcome to start with one of these, if you like. Or you can just go straight to work on the house. These bags are full of royal icing."
She leaned over and pointed to several of the plastic bags that were filled with white icing. All of them had metal tips where the icing was dispensed. I had used one of them before so I was fairly confident that I could operate one without making a total fool of myself. I was listening to her give a speech about how each of the attachments we're shaped differently and thus made the icing come out in different shapes and amounts—some would leave a skinny, smooth trail and others a thick, star-shaped trail. I knew a bit about what she was talking about, which was a relief because I was completely distracted by something else.
No, it wasn't Owen.
I wish I could say it was, but it wasn't.
This was one of those moments where a bodily function took over and suddenly outweighed everything.
My guts cramped as I stood there, trying to listen to Mrs. Carter's speech about icing and candy and how to apply them to the house.
I began to sweat.
I had already taken off my hat, scarf, gloves, and jacket when I came inside, but it wasn't enough. I pulled on the collar of my sweater, trying to get more air, and begging myself to just wait until I made it home so I could use my own restroom. I had been in a situation like this before—one where my stomach just wouldn't wait. But never, ever had it happened so quickly and at such an inappropriate time.
More cramps.
More sweating.
I smiled and pretended to listen to Mrs. Carter.
Owen looked at me. "I'll be right back," he said. He took off toward what I assumed was the basement. I could tell by the way he conducted himself that he was going to wrap up his game of pool or tell them he was no longer playing.
"I'll be right back, too," I said in a far more tentative voice than Owen—almost like it was a question.
I glanced at Abby and then Mrs. Carter. "Do you mind if I use your restroom real quick?"
Why did I have to add the words real quick? Judging from the gurgling sensations going on in my abdomen, I had no idea how long I would be in there.
I was completely mortified and begged God to take these feelings from me, but there was nothing I could do. I had to find a restroom.
Abby agreed to show me to the restroom, and she stood up from her stool with a smile and proceeded to lead me casually through the kitchen and living room like we had all the time in the world. I did my best to smile and talk to her and act normal, but I had never been so embarrassed in my life. My body was betraying me at the worst possible moment. She opened the restroom door and turned on the light for me, and I went inside, thanking her and mumbling something about how I would join them in the kitchen in just a second.
The two or three minutes that followed were perhaps the longest of my life.
In an ideal fairytale world, reuniting with Owen Bishop after almost four years would've been full of glamorous stolen glances, but instead, there I was, sitting on a toilet, sweating and feeling more mortified with every passing second.
I had been on a road trip one time with some friends and the same thing happened to me, causing me to make an emergency stop at a gas station. I thought that experience was the end-all-be-all of embarrassment, but this one took the cake. I reminded myself several times during the process to stay calm and overcome.
I had no idea how much time had passed. I moved quickly and efficiently, finishing up, washing my hands, and making myself as presentable as possible, but I knew I had been gone entirely too long considering the fact that I promised I'd be back in a second.
There could not have been a worse moment for my humanness to rear its ugly head, and I had to smile at myself on the way out of the restroom… because what else was I supposed to do, cry?
Owen was in the kitchen with the others when I made my way back out there. They were all laughing and joking around, which made me feel better. I started to say something about being sorry that I took so long, but I decided to keep quiet and just pretend like I didn't even notice how long I had been gone.
I came to stand next to them, leaning against the counter, and feeling grateful for the physical relief. Owen smiled at me and handed me a plastic bag full of icing. I took it from him, staring at the house for a second before changing my mind and going for one of the little gingerbread men.
"I think I'll start with one of these," I said, taking a seat on a stool. I quietly went to work on it, beginning by outlining his whole body. My hands were shaking, but I leaned onto the bar just the right way to steady myself as much as possible.
Everyone else had been talking about Christmas shopping, and I felt content to listen to their conversation. Owen was next to me, but he and Liam were busy sticking rows of cinnamon candies onto the roof as Abby strategically piped icing.
"I saw that new shopping center going up in Midtown," Andy said.
I knew before I even looked up that he was talking to me. My father owned a lot of commercial and residential property in Memphis (including the land and shopping center Andy was referring to).
I smiled as I glanced at him. "I think it's gonna have a Whole Foods," I said.
I knew it was true.
That was common knowledge.
I had heard at least half-a-dozen people say that since I had been home for Christmas. I just always got uncomfortable when people started to talk about my father's money, so I usually stated some random, vague fact to distract them.
Everyone in Memphis knew my father, and most of them were somewhat intimidated by him. He was a businessman who was known for his take-no-prisoners attitude. His age only added to his somewhat unapproachable reputation. He was a good deal older than all of my friends' dads because he was actually my grandfather. My parents both passed away when I was an infant, and my grandparents took me in and raised me as their own. Most people regarded my father with some measure of curiosity and fear, and honestly, I was okay with that because that's just how it had been all my life. To me, he was a caring father who provided for all of my needs. To me, he was Dad.
"I love Whole Foods," Shelby said. "I went to one that had the best sushi I've ever eaten."
"I like their juice bar," Abby said.
"Yeah, she gets that nasty green stuff with spinach and celery in it," Andy teased.
We talked about Whole Foods, which led us into a conversation about our Christmas menus and Christmas traditions. There were a few different families represented, and we all shared things we did.
My family wasn't like any of theirs. My real dad had been an only child, so I didn't have any aunts, uncles, or cousins. Because of this, we traveled every year.
"We do something different every year, but this year, we're going to New York," I said. "We're leaving tomorrow."
"Are you meeting up with some of your friends from college?" Mrs. Carter asked.
"Yes ma'am. We're not going to Ithaca, but I have a few friends who grew up in the city, and we'll meet up with them. We're having Christmas dinner at my friend Dylan's house."
This statement caused Owen to glance at me. Dylan was, in fact, a female friend of mine, but I could tell by the look on his face that he assumed otherwise, and the hint of jealousy in his expression left me breathless.
"Is Dylan your boyfriend?" Shelby asked, raising her eyebrows at me.
"No, just a friend," I said smiling. I probably should have clarified about the male/female thing, but for whatever reason, I didn't.
We decorated the gingerbread house and shared a cordial conversation for a little while before I glanced at the clock and realized how late it was. I touched Kacie's arm to get her attention, and she turned to face me.
"We better get going," I said. "We're leaving in the morning and I still have to pack."
She smiled and nodded before glancing at Mrs. Carter. "Thank you so much for letting us come in and decorate with y'all," she said.
"Yeah, this was really amazing," I said. I took a step back and regarded the house, appreciating how much it had changed. We had all been working hard on it for over an hour, and it was far more colorful than before. It wasn't yet complete, but it was getting there. It looked gorgeous—full of rows and rows of colorful candy. Kacie asked if she could take a selfie with it to post on her Instagram, and Mrs. Carter was delighted to let her do so.
The Carters asked if we needed a ride home, but we told them that Kacie's car was parked at Mr. Sanders's house, which was only two doors down. There was no opportunity for me to communicate specifically with Owen without being totally obvious, and I hated that. It broke my heart to see him so briefly and casually and then leave him again.
Everyone waved at us and wished us a Merry Christmas as we walked to the door. We stopped in the foyer long enough to put on our hats and coats. I was wrapping my scarf around my neck when movement caught my eye. I smiled when I realized it was Owen. He smiled back at me, and my heart melted. He had gone and become a man since the last time I saw him, and I was more infatuated with him than ever. I loved the scruffy facial hair and the way he dressed so clean but casual.
"I figured I would walk you ladies to your car if you don't mind," he said.
"Of course we don't!" Kacie said.
"Ever the gentleman," I said nostalgically as I watched him take his jacket off the hook and shrug into it. He pulled the hood over his head and zipped the zipper before stepping forward to open the door for us.
I wanted so badly to take his arm, or hold his hand, or otherwise make some kind of physical contact with him, but we walked down the road without touching it all. He, Liam, and Shelby had talked about some of their family Christmas traditions while we were decorating the house, and I caught myself feeling sorry that I would miss all of it. I knew I would have a nice time in New York, but part of me longed to stay in Memphis and have Christmas with the Bishops.
Before I knew it, we had made it to Kacie's car. She got into the driver's seat, telling Owen goodbye and wishing him Merry Christmas.
He followed me to the passenger's side.
"I guess you'll be done with school in May," he said as we walked.
"Yep."
"Are you coming home after that?"
Normally, Owen Bishop was really calm and collected, but I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was slightly nervous and felt as though he was putting himself out there by asking me that question. This made me entirely too happy. I smiled at him and shrugged.
"That's the plan," I said. "I'll finish in May, and I was planning on moving back after that."
He nodded. We had come to a stop near the passenger's side of Kacie's car, and I knew I should open the door and get in, but I just couldn't make myself—not before saying something more. I loved seeing him with that hood over his head—it made him look dark and mysterious.
"What about you?" I asked.
"I finish in May, too."
"Are you gonna be in Memphis after that?"
He grinned and gave me a nod.
"I guess I'll see you around, then," I said.
I reluctantly reached out for the door handle, and Owen put his hand on the car door to keep it closed. I glanced at him.
"I still remember what you said," he said.
Joy and relief flooded my body, and I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning from ear to ear.
"About what?" I asked, staring into his dark eyes.
"Never mind if you don't remember," he said stubbornly as he took his hand off of the car.
Two could play at this game.
"You're the one who doesn't remember," I said, reaching for the handle.
"Darcy," he said, putting his hand on my arm.
I stopped and looked at him.
"You don't have to worry about me," he said sweetly.
My expression softened. I wanted to melt. "You don't have to worry about me, either, Owen."