Chapter Seventeen

Nadia

WE HAD HAD A FULL WEEK.

The best week.

Between the daily tasks of the challenge, the construction, and just having time with Owen, there was nothing I could complain about. Not that I was gullible; I wasn’t.

In the back of my mind, I knew it was only a matter of time before his phone would ring and it would be the hospital luring him back, testing us.

Every time one of our phones had gone off, I’d braced, expecting the other shoe to drop and force me to wake up from the daydream that had been our life. But not one call had been for him.

Until this morning.

And instead of feeling worried or upset that the week before would simply become a memory because we would both simply fall back into the habit of how we were living our lives before this trip, I was calm. Cool and steadfast. I found my reaction to the phone call surprising. I simply headed inside to start breakfast, while Owen took Paul’s call.

Something had shifted between us the last few days. We were actually seeing each other. Listening and hearing one another as we worked together as a team. Whether it was with the renovations to the bathrooms or hanging with the girls; we were working as a team. Adding in our late-night activities, the night before and our morning tryst against the wall in the backyard, was the cherry to my happy sundae. I was relaxed and so genuinely happy. I couldn’t wipe away the cheesy smile on my face if I tried.

Without a word about the call, Owen returned to the kitchen and started to help set the table, making coffee for us, asking the girls what they would like to drink. Sitting together, we enjoyed our breakfast like a family, the last meal in the space until the renovation in the kitchen would be finished.

From breakfast on, the day was a blur of activity. From the four of us packing up the kitchen to taking the girls to the park and ice cream. For dinner, we went to a small local pizza place, where the four of us played some of the arcade games together. We got home and the girls headed to bed. It wasn’t until then we found ourselves sitting on the couch. I had a book in my hands as he watched whatever game was playing on the TV in front of us. Staring at him, I took in the lines of his face. His profile was strong and masculine. He had always been handsome, but I couldn’t help thinking how much sexier he was now. How blessed and thankful I was to have seen his face evolve from a young kid’s to a grown man’s.

As if he could feel me staring, he turned and raised a thick brow. “What’s up?” he asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“What did Paul want?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

“Advice,” he sighed. I put my book down, shifting my body toward him.

“On women?” I sassed, and he chuckled, shaking his head. I rested my head on his shoulder when he pulled me in close, enjoying the heat and strength his body radiated.

“No. He has a tough case, wanted to know what I thought he should do.”

“And?”

“And it’s a tough one.” He sighed. Grabbing my hand, he stroked my wrist with his thumb. He was torn. I knew him. No matter how disconnected we might have been, I knew him. He wanted to be with us but also wanted to help his colleague and friend.

“You want to help him,” I nudged gently, moving slightly in his arms so we could look at one another again.

“I need to be here,” he answered confidently. I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. Even though he was right and I was thankful he saw that, I also knew he was a very talented plastic surgeon. Guilt hit me. He didn’t only help create fake boobs and suck fat; he helped all sorts of people, and my own insecurities hadn’t given him enough credit.

Trying to come up with the right words, I started to speak, “You could go and—”

“Babe,” he started to say but stopped speaking and leaned his head on the headrest of the couch, obviously conflicted. “I can’t tell you I don’t care about the case.”

“I’m not asking you to,” I responded wholeheartedly. “You could go, help Paul, and come back,” I suggested and watched his strong jaw clench.

“I could. But I won’t,” he gritted, still not looking at me.

“Why?”

“I need you to know you can count on me.” He turned to look at me. “Come here,” he ordered, and I went. He moved us easily, his strength evident by how he moved me so I could sit on his lap. “You do know that I haven’t just been feeding you pretty little words with our challenge and—” I lifted my finger over his lips to silence him.

“I know you’re not feeding me pretty words,” I assured him honestly. I could feel he was about to start to argue with me, so I hurried up and continued, “I don’t need you to stop working completely. I don’t want that. You love what you do.”

“I’m not doing that.” He sighed, taking my hand away from his lips, our fingers intertwining. “This time off is for us.”

“I get that. I do—”

“So why push me to go—”

“I’m not pushing, baby.” I stroked his face gently. “But I also know this vacation isn’t real life.”

“I know that,” he clipped, his square jaw clenched, but I kept stroking his face, enjoying the light stubble that had appeared throughout the day.

“I know.” I pressed my lips together and kept talking, thinking about today’s challenge we had not had a chance to do. “We’ve talked about what’s been wrong between us, where we might have gone wrong, and what we want from here on out. When we get back to real life, all I want is that when you are with us, be here, be present. And if possible, maybe try to make it home a couple of nights a week for dinner and be present at least one day on the weekend.”

“What?”

“This is tonight’s task.”

“Shit,” he cursed, obviously having spaced because of our busy day.

“Don’t worry about it. We have to tell one another what we want from each other moving forward,” I reminded him and realized I was finally the one bringing up things to talk about. I felt proud for being the one to address it.

His frown deepened. “I’m sorry I almost missed tonight’s—”

“I know, and it’s okay. We had a busy day.” I pressed my forehead against his. “Now, tell me what you want.”

“You,” he immediately answered, and my eyes stung with happy tears.

“You have me. Now, be honest,” I pushed after giving him a small kiss. The way he looked at me, I knew I would have to press further. “Please.”

“I want you to talk to me,” he finally gave in and shared. “You don’t like something, you gotta tell me. I do something stupid, I want you to call me out on it. I don’t want you to ever feel like you are alone in life. I don’t want you to feel lost or like you don’t have someone to count on.” I swallowed hard, listening to his words, and I knew he was right. I needed to do that.

“I hate the minivan,” I blurted without thinking.

“Wait, what?” His head tilted, and I sighed.

“The minivan. I just—”

“It’s safe and spacious,“ he logically pointed out. I nodded, understanding what he was saying.

“It is. But it is also not me,” I confessed honestly. “I’m not a minivan type of mom.” I watched him blink and nervously waited for his reaction.

“You’re right.” His green eyes were clear and sincere.

“I am?” There was no way I could hide the surprise I felt.

“You’re not the minivan type. Why did you let me get that for you?” His eyes widened, and I laughed.

“I have no idea.”

“I’ll be home on the weekends and at least two–three nights every week for dinner. And I wanna try and help with picking up the girls after ballet or gymnastics.”

“Okay,” I agreed easily.

“Just like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“When I’ve offered before, you shrugged me off, reminding me of the time I dropped the ball,” he shared. I couldn’t argue what he was saying because he was right. I had done that.

“I’m sorry.” And I was. I had done that over and over until he simply stopped offering.

“I am, too,” he whispered against my lips. I leaned in, giving him a small peck.

“Call Paul back. Tell him you will be there tomorrow.”

“Demo starts tomorrow on the kitchen. I can’t leave—”

“I got it.” And I did. I was excited about it and meant that I had things under control. And I didn’t feel one ounce of anything towards him having to leave to go to work.

“It’s a lot of—” he started to argue, but I simply kissed him. Luckily, he didn’t push me away. One of his big hands gripped the back of my head as we kissed. Pulling away, I was slightly breathless. “Do what you have to do and come back,” I whispered and watched his green eyes close, relief shining through. I had been right. He had been torn about what to do but hadn’t wanted me to feel like I wasn’t somehow a priority to him, which meant he was committed to making us work.

“One day. I will be back tomorrow night,” he huskily promised.

“It’s just one day,” I repeated right before his lips touched mine and we got lost in a kiss so passionate it made my toes curl.