Chapter Eleven

Owen

HIS PLAN MIGHT HAVE hit a couple of road bumps but nothing he couldn’t handle. He was sure about this, since failure wasn’t an option. Kissing Nadia, as stupidly simple as a kiss could be, it reminded him that quitting wasn’t an option. Not for them. They would make it.

Picking up the girls from camp and taking them out for ice cream had been enlightening to say the least. His girls were no longer toddlers who looked at him adoringly. Sure, he knew that. He also knew they loved him, but their sassy attitude was something he hadn’t expected. Though, if he was honest, he was proud his girls were so much like their mother.

“You guys like the camps Mom signed you up for?” he asked as they sat on a bench on the pier and enjoyed a cone of soft serve.

“I do. It’s awesome,” Vivian chimed happily.

“It’s okay,” Becca muttered, and he looked at her. Becca’s face was more than serious.

Without thinking, he asked, “Just okay?” and watched her little shoulder rise and fall. “Come on, Becs, talk to me.”

“Why did we come out here?” she asked, attitude and anger laced in the few words she spoke.

“Becca!” Vivian hissed, and Owen felt his brows crease together. Something was going on.

“What do you mean, why did we come out here?”

“Mom and us? Are you guys splitting up?” she asked, her little back completely stiff; her eyes pierced him right through the heart as she completely ignored her favorite cold treat.

“What?” Splitting up? Had she heard Nadia talking to someone?

“Because if you are, you should just tell us. I know we are only eight, but we know stuff.” His little girl, who was obviously not so little anymore, left him speechless.

“Becca!” Vivian whined. His face was serious as he tried to come up with the right words.

“Andie’s parents split up, and right before they did, Andie went on vacation to her grandparents’ house.”

“Honey—”

“And she never came back. They stayed there until her mom started dating and married someone else.”

“Becca, honey—” he tried to speak, but Becca was not going to let him say another word.

“Is Mom going to marry someone else?”

“Why would you even ask that?” he asked, again without thinking.

“She’s sad all the time,” Vivian spoke up softly, and he turned to look at her.

His heart pounded fiercely in his chest, pain in his heart that his actions had caused worry not only in his wife but his daughters.

“She is?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“And she’s always worried,” Becca chimed in.

“She tries to pretend she’s not,” Viv defended softly.

“But she is; we see it,” Becca finished Viv’s thoughts. He took a deep breath trying to find the right words that would somehow explain things to them in a way they would be able to understand.

“Your mom and I—”

“Aren’t getting along?” Becca butted in with attitude laced in her voice, and he exhaled.

“You know how you two might argue about…” Shit, what did his girls argue about?

Fuck, I am a shit dad.

“Ballet and gymnastics?” Viv chimed in, and he nodded.

“Exactly.”

“Yeah.”

“Yes,” they answered, his eyes going from one girl to another.

“You guys argue, and sometimes you might not like the other one, but you will always love her, right?”

“Always.”

“Duh.”

“I will always love your mom. No matter what,” he vowed out loud and watched Becca’s face burrow into a deeper frown.

“So, you’ll love her when she marries someone else?” Becca asked, obviously stuck on the worst-case scenario. He cleared his throat.

“Becs!” Viv scolded.

“What? It’s a valid question,” Becca smarted off to her sister, but she wasn’t wrong. It was a valid question. How had he let things get here? Not that he would actually let Nadia go. Not now, not ever. They could fix what had gone wrong.

“No, it’s not. And you don’t even know what ‘valid’ means. So, stop putting ideas in his head!” Viv argued back, clearly upset.

“Shi—” He stopped himself mid-curse and looked at Becca, whose eyes were twinkling with mischief, and he rolled his lips together before speaking. “Your mom isn’t marrying anyone else. And we’re not getting a divorce. She is stuck with me.”

“You promise?” He turned to his right and looked into Vivian’s worried eyes. She had always been the more sensitive, softer one. The one most like Nadia, a little voice reminded him, and instead of ignoring it, this time he took a mental note.

“I promise, baby.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him, kissing the top of her head. “You two have nothing to worry about.”

“Then why are we here?” Becca whined, obviously unhappy about the summer plans.

“Mom wants to fix the house up, and we are going to help her,” he shared, pulling Becca into his embrace.

“We are?” Vivian asked, and he nodded.

“We are. The three of us,” he informed them, not missing the serious expression on Becca’s face.

“But what about work?” Becca asked, and he nodded once more.

“I can see why that would worry you.”

“You’re always busy with work, Dad,” Vivian chimed in softy without judgment. “How are you going to help her? I mean, you’ll probably leave tomorrow, right?” The sadness in her voice was evident, and at that moment, he could have kissed Claudia for giving him the month off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he firmly stated and felt both his girls’ eyes on him. He looked back and forth from one girl to the other.

“Really?” Becca asked, her lower lip trembling slightly. His hand went to the top of her head.

“Really,” he repeated, his voice steady and confident.

“Do you promise, Dad?” Vivian asked, surprising him, since it was usually Becca who questioned him.

“I promise.”

“This isn’t like you breaking your dates with Mom and making a promise for the next week, is it?” she asked, and he blinked for a moment, wondering how the hell she knew that. “We are in the car with her when you cancel,” she clarified, starting to look annoyed at him, which surprised him, too. His sweet Vivian had an attitude, and even though he was about to suffer the brunt of it, he was glad she had her mother’s fire. Now if he could only figure out how to help Nadia find it again. “Because if you are going to let us down, don’t bother promising,” she stated. The blow hurt more than he had initially thought it would.

Silently, he watched her stand and throw away the bit of ice cream she had left, only to return to sit next to her sister instead of him. Becca’s eyes widened, and if the situation hadn’t been as serious as it was, he would have laughed at how cute they could be.

“Viv,” he called out to her, and she looked at him through squinted eyes. He couldn’t tell if she was trying to hold on to her tears or if she was that pissed and distrustful of him, not that it mattered; either way his heart broke. He stood and kneeled in front of his girls, getting on eye level with them and holding each of their hands. “I am going to be here. I am not going anywhere.”

“You should think about what promises mean before you make them,” Viv remarked, raising her eyes to his, her chin firm, even if her lips wobbled.

“I promise, Viv.”

“Viv, he promised,” Becca gently reminded her.

“How many times has he promised, Becs?” Viv remarked, looking at her sister.

“Viv, chill. It’s going to be okay.”

“What if it is like you said?” Vivian asked, and he watched as they stared at one another and did the mystical twin thing, as if they could read one another’s mind with a look.

“Daddy said—”

“How many times has Dad said stuff?” They were talking like he wasn’t even there. He needed to take control of the situation.

“Viv,” he tried to cut into the conversation, but his words got caught in his throat when her eyes met his.

“Just don’t promise us things you can’t do. We get it. We understand you work hard and you do it so we can have the things we have. But don’t make promises you aren’t planning on really keeping,” she laid out. He had to bite the inside of his cheek so his eyes wouldn’t glass up with tears. Fuck, his girls were amazing. And he had missed way too much time not getting to know them.

“Okay.” He squeezed both of their hands and looked at them. “I promise. I’m here. Not just for your mom, but for you and your sister. I am going to work my as…behind off to make things right. To fix things.”

“And after a month?”

“Your mom wants to finish fixing up the house, and I will come back for the weekends.” He hoped. Hell, he hoped after the month, the four of them would be back home and get settled. “I’m going to fix things. Okay?” he told them and watched both reluctantly nod. He prayed he could deliver on those promises.

After hugging his girls tightly, their chat weighing heavily between them, he decided they needed to go for a walk. Hand in hand, the three of them strolled up and down the pier.

Despite the seriousness of the conversation they’d had, the girls seemed to be more at ease than when he had picked them up, and for that alone he was grateful. Not that the conversation had been easy. Hell, no. It had sucked, but he knew that for his girls, he would endure that and more, all just so they would be okay.

***

“Babe!” he called out as he opened the front door and his girls rushed past him and ran in to get changed for their outing.

Walking in, he dropped his keys on top of an old end table they had bought together before they had even said ‘I do.’ Looking at the old table he hadn’t realized they still owned, he reached out his hand and touched the more than weathered wood.

“I love this!” she’d squealed, and he had shaken his head in disbelief. The image of her in a pink tank top and tight denim shorts that showed off her toned tan legs was clear in his head as if it had just happened instead of almost fourteen years before.

“You do?” he’d asked, not hiding the incredulous tone in his voice, and laughed when she’d playfully elbowed him in the ribs, but all he could care about was the way her eyes twinkled with delight.

“Yeah, look at the lines and the carvings on the legs. Plus, this is real wood!” He took in the Mexican-inspired carvings on each leg and the edges of the table. He picked it up; it was heavy enough to be real wood, but he didn’t see anything special about the yard sale piece. Not anything that would make his girl’s eyes twinkle the way they were. Hell, the end table had definitely seen better days.

“Babe, this thing is old,” he commented, and her shoulder went up and dropped slowly, her gaze on the table. “And falling apart,” he pointed out, as it wobbled even after he had set it back down.

“Just because it’s weathered and maybe a little broken doesn’t mean it’s trash,” she told him. “I can sand it down and paint it.” Her eyes had met his. “I can tighten all the screws and bolts, and I’m sure it would be like new,” she’d continued, and not for the first time since they had met in the dorm room hallway the first day of freshman year did he think he was the luckiest asshole alive to have her in his life. She saw the value in hard work. She wasn’t about getting the easy way out of life. She saw the adventure in the journey of things and really appreciated them.

“Owen?” she called out to him; he popped his head up, his hand still on the table. “Owen, are you okay?” she asked, frowning slightly, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Not only was that memory still fresh in his mind’s eye, but she looked fucking gorgeous in a burnt orange sundress paired up with rich mahogany leather wedges that showed off the bright lemon-yellow color of her polished toes.

“Owen?” she repeated. Concerned dark eyes stared at him, and he shook his head, licking his lips, and took in the gorgeous sight she made.

“You look beautiful,” he said as his fingers stroked the wood of the table, his body buzzed, the need to touch her rushing through him.

“Thank you.” She blushed slightly. He took a step closer to her, his hand joining hers. Paying close attention to everything about her, he didn’t miss the way her eyes widened, the way that her breath hitched as he stepped in closer.

“The girls-“

“Are getting ready” he shared, and she grinned at him. Unable to stop himself, he cupped her cheek with his free hand.

“Family date,” he told her, noting the way her eyes twinkled at him; and when she leaned into his touch, he knew what Olympic athletes felt when they won a damn medal.

“That sounds good.”

“Good.” His lips hovered over hers. He wanted to take her. Kiss her. Own her and remind her of it, but something stopped him. “I should take a shower.” The hoarse tone in his voice gave away the desire he felt. He noticed her heavy gaze on his lips. She wanted his kiss as much as he did.

“Shower,” she repeated before her dark gaze met his, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t hide what she wanted from him.

It was clear as day what she was thinking. Them. Together. In the shower. And fuck him, he wanted that, too.

“I’ll be quick.” He cleared his throat, taking a step back and kissing the top of her hand before letting go and rushing to get ready, grinning the entire time.