Chapter Nine

Nadia

I TAPPED MY FOOT lightly on the concrete of the deck in the small backyard while I watched the girls reading underneath the big tree that I had fallen in love with when we had first seen the place.

Demolition of the master bathroom was going to start in the morning. I should have been excited. But I wasn’t. Instead, I was starting to second-guess the whole trip. Was life really that bad off for me to risk it all?

After listening to Owen’s message on Tuesday, I made sure that the girls spoke to him to tell him all about their day. Once the girls handed me the phone, we spoke briefly, but there was something different in the tone of his voice. Something I hadn’t been able to place. Not even two nights later, now Thursday, could I get it out of my head.

He hadn’t called either.

Well, he had, just not to talk to me.

Every morning and evening, he called, spoke to the girls, then hung up. Maybe he doesn’t want me anymore? What if he had decided I wasn’t worth the effort? What if this was exactly what he wanted? For me to walk away? What if I made a mistake?

The doubt started to bubble up just as my phone rang, and without a glance, I answered, already knowing who would be on the other end. “How is Italy?” I asked.

“Freaking beautiful. You and the girls should be here instead of getting ready to gut a bathroom and grout shit,” Simone answered without missing a beat, and I giggled.

“I bet it is! How are the kids?”

“Good. The girls?”

“Happy, they really like art camp,” I told her with pride.

“Good.”

“How’s Mitch?”

“Busy but good. We went out to dinner last night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat so much pizza.”

“He can eat a large all by himself,” I reminded her.

“Exactly. I think I gained ten pounds just watching him inhale all of it.” We both laughed. I was glad my best friend was having a good time. “How’s Owen?”

“Owen,” I sighed and walked back into the house to the outdated kitchen, looking around. “Owen… I have no idea how he is.”

“You haven’t talked?” Simone asked in a whisper, and I knew she was looking for private space to talk.

“He calls… to talk to the girls,” I shared honestly. It made me feel selfish to lay it on Simone while she was so far away and on vacation, but I needed someone to talk to.

“What happened?”

“I told him we needed some space to think—”

“You mean he needed time to figure out his shit and figure out you’re more than his personal dishwasher?” Simone interrupted, and I groaned.

“Simone.”

“Oh, come on,” my best friend pushed. “You know it’s true. He needs to wake up, and you telling him that means you know it, too.”

“Babe—”

“Be honest,” Simone said. There was a moment of silence between us before I spoke.

“I did. I mean, I know he does,” I admitted. “But now…”—I swallowed hard—”now I’m not sure about any of this. He won’t even talk to me, Simone. It’s like he couldn’t care less.” My voice cracked.

“Nadia…”

“I mean, for all I know, that little assistant of his and he could be—” I started to speak my biggest fears out loud. The images in my head got the best of me. I sniffled, closing my eyes, trying to ignore the stinging sensation behind my lids.

“Okay, stop right there and just breathe,” Simone ordered, and I opened my eyes and did just as she told me to. I breathed in and out slowly, trying to catch my breath. “Who knew you had a flair for the dramatic?”

“Simone.” My voice cracked again, tears started to well in my eyes, and I held on to the countertop.

“You know I think Owen is a dumbass for taking you for granted,” she reminded me.

“I know.”

“But he loves you,” she assured me. I could only hope she was right.

“That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be tempted to—” But I couldn’t say another word because Simone cut me off.

“That means exactly that.” Her voice was like steel, and I found myself holding on to it like a life raft. “He would never step out on you,” she said so confidently I wondered when I stopped believing in him, that I would ever doubt his loyalty.

“I don’t know anymore, babe,” I confessed, speaking the words out loud for the first time. Simone stayed quiet for a moment before speaking again.

“Why didn’t you tell me you thought—” she started to ask, but it was my turn to cut her off.

“I don’t know. I…” I took a moment, then my eyes caught sight of the girls walking toward the house. “You’re right, I’m probably being dramatic. Ignore me,” I tried to brush it off knowing my time for this little heart-to-heart was over. I couldn’t put this on her. Not now. And if I was honest, Owen didn’t deserve it either.

“Nadia…”

“Girls are ready to have dinner. I think I want to take them out to that diner by the pier.”

“Na—”

“I’m okay, Simone. I’m sorry for—”

“Never say you’re sorry,” Simone fiercely retorted and then sighed. “I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll go shopping,” I whispered.

“Everything will be okay,” she fiercely reminded me. I wished I could believe it.

“Yeah.” I quickly agreed, not because I believed it, but because I had to take the girls to dinner and needed to hang up so Simone could continue enjoying her vacation. “I have to get going.”

“Right. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Nadia,” Simone called out a second before I ended the call, and I braced, silently waiting for her words. “He loves you as much as you love him.”

“Sim—”

“You just have to find a way back to each other,” she quickly added, and I laughed humorlessly.

“You really think it’s that simple?”

“I do. Mitch and I... We’ve been there,” she confided. “As long as you remember you love each other and the whys… just don’t stop fighting…” Simone kept talking. I tried to keep paying attention, but my mind was stuck on Simone’s words and Owen’s actions.

It felt like Owen was over fighting.

He wasn’t even pretending to try.

Doubt and fear and heartache all swirled and sank deep in my belly as I stepped out of the house, herding the girls to the minivan. With a glance back at the house, I found solace that at least I had something I knew I could work on and fix.

Even if it was one grout line at a time.

***

“Good night, Mom!”

“Night, Mom!”

“Sweet dreams, girls.” I blew a kiss to Becca and Vivian before shutting the door, immediately hearing their soft whispers, and I knew they wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, so I headed to the kitchen.

My phone beeped just as I finished pouring myself a glass of white wine. After taking a small sip, I picked it up and read the text that had come through.

Owen: Hi

I bit my lower lip in surprise. He was texting. I responded back with my own hello and was surprised to see the little bubbles immediately pop up, indicating he was writing back. I couldn’t even blink.

Owen: You’re still up? he asked, and I felt a jolt of excitement course through me.

Nadia: I am. Are you okay? I responded before taking a seat on the old small couch, the little bubbles popping up once again.

Owen: Yeah. Just thinking about you.

Nadia: You are? I asked, my heart skipping a beat. The phone rang and I jumped slightly, his beautiful face shining back. I didn’t think twice.

“Hi,” I answered softly, trying to control the sudden swarm of butterflies that felt like were doing drag races in my belly.

“I figured if we were both up, we could talk,” his deep voice rumbled lowly, and I shivered. Talk about what? Would this be where he would say it was time for us to take a separate path? Apprehension filled my belly.

“Was texting making you feel old?” I teased, trying to lighten my own mood. When I heard him chuckle, a sound I hadn’t heard in a while, I relaxed a little. “You’re home?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re home early,” I noted, glancing at the old wall clock, trying to beat back the apprehension. Why was he home early? Is he alone?

“Something like that. I’m all packed up, actually.”

“You are?” I asked, surprised.

“All ready and set to go,” Owen confirmed. I didn’t know what to say. He almost sounded excited about visiting.

“Oh…”

“I miss you, Nadi.” My body held still while those four words washed over me; my nose prickled. He misses me. “You there?” he asked as silence started to fill every tick of the clock.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat trying to brush off how much those small words, that small gesture, meant.

“Do you remember our freshman year?” he started to reminisce, and I had no idea what he as up to. “When you had to go home for spring break because—”

“My sister was getting married,” I filled in and smiled at the memory.

“Yeah.” He laughed softly. “God, babe, I missed you so much.”

“I was gone for two days before I talked my dad into going to pick you up and letting you sleep on the couch.”

“I don’t remember getting much sleep done on that couch,” he reminded me, and I felt a smirk on my face. The memories of that break tumbled back in an instant.

“That’s because you were busy sneaking into my room,” I shared, and he laughed. His laughter was contagious; it made my stomach warm and my heart flutter.

“My girls doing okay over there?” he asked once the laughter subsided; that damn tone in his voice reappeared, and any warmth I felt washed away while defensive walls popped up. Like the glimpse of the man I loved was gone, replaced with the one I didn’t like all that much.

“They’re doing awesome.” I shared, “They love camp and—”

“And you?” he interrupted me, and I froze.

“What?” I whispered, unsure of what he was asking me.

“You are part of my girls, aren’t you?” he asked. I opened and closed my mouth.

“What?” My voice was nothing but a hushed whisper, but even so, it sounded too loud in my ears. He was asking about me?

“You always tell me about Becca and Viv, and in no way am I complaining, Nadia, but I also want to know about you.”

“You do?” I asked, the surprise in my voice clear as day.

“I do,” he answered confidently before clearing his voice. “I know this isn’t the time to talk about this, baby, and we will talk when I get there, but I need you to know something.”

“What?” I asked cautiously as my heart beat furiously to the tempo of hard-beating drums inside my chest.

“I love you.” Those three words made my eyes burn, but he kept sharing, “What we have… we both know it’s not perfect, but it’s far from broken, Nadia.” Just like that, the dam that had been holding on against the laws of physics broke and big crocodile tears rolled down my face. One after another rolled and spilled down my cheeks, and I couldn’t stop them. Relief and love washed through me, and even though they were just words, I was grateful he was finally talking. Letting me in on how he was feeling and what he wanted.

“Fuck,” he growled, and I could hear him shuffling around. “Baby, don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” I lied poorly, knowing my voice gave me away.

“You are.”

“I’m sorry,” I started to say mid-sob, but his soft, comforting words stopped me from saying anything else.

“Shh… breathe, baby.” His voice was soft and soothing. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t; the tears kept flowing. “Fuck, Nadi, I feel like a jackass. I didn’t mean for things with us to get like this. This is my fault.”

“It’s not—” I tried to argue to tell him it wasn’t all on him but equally both of us, when I hiccupped.

“Drink water, babe. When you get upset like this, the hiccups take forever to go away if you don’t drink something.”

“See, it wasn’t just you,” I pointed out, wiping my face with my hand before getting up and heading toward the kitchen. “You know me…”

“I do, but I’ve been an ass.”

“Yeah, you have been,” I agreed and took a deep, shuddered breath. “But I shut down and…”

“Shhh.” His voice rumbled, “We’ll talk… but not tonight. Not over the phone.”

“But…” My argument caught in my throat when I heard what he had to say next.

“I want you in my arms when we talk.” Silence fell between us, and all I knew was I wanted that, too.

“Okay,” I gave in and agreed softly after settling back on the couch, covering myself with the soft maroon plush throw the girls liked to cuddle with.

“Girls asleep?” he asked, and I listened carefully, finding the house completely silent.

“Sounds like it.”

“Good. Rest. I’ll see you in the morning, and after we take the girls to camp, we will go have breakfast and—”

“We can’t.”

“What?”

“I mean, I can’t.”

“Oh?”

“Demolition of the main bathroom starts tomorrow.” I winced. I should have told him about the remodeling plans earlier in the week.

“Demolition? Like tearing it apart?” he asked slowly, and the hairs on my neck stood up.

“Yes.”

“Nadia, you can’t do that stuff alone. You could get hurt or bust something—”

“I’m not,” I quickly added, glad that was what he was worried about.

“What?”

“I hired someone. He’s going to—”

“He?”

“Owen…”

“Is there more to this little trip to the house than you are letting on, Nadia?” he asked, and I fought from laughing. David Leon was very handsome, ten years older than me, but very married and loyal.

“Are you jealous?” I couldn’t help asking as I sat up, pleasantly surprised.

“Should I be?” his deep voice asked.

“Not at all. He’s a contractor who Simone contacted for me,” I explained, my lips twitching. Owen? Jealous?

“So, what? He’s going to fix a bathroom?”

“Both.”

“Both bathrooms?” And here was the Owen I knew. The one who second-guessed every decision I made. “And you decided this without talking to me?”

“When would I have talked to you about this?” I pointed out. He had been the one who didn’t say two words to me this week.

“You told me you needed space.”

“I didn’t. I said we both needed time to think,” I clarified as I started to get pissed. “And believe it or not, I have made big decisions in the past concerning our own home.”

“Nad—”

“And it’s not just the bathrooms; he’s going to do the kitchen, too,” I decided to tell him and let the chips fall where they would.

“Jesus, Nadia, do you know how much that is going to cost?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not using your money,” I furiously threw back. My blood heated in my veins. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised either. I told you what I was coming up here to do.” Did he think I was stupid? Of course, I knew how much it would cost!

“I thought you were trying to make a point. I’d head over and we would be back in a week or two,” he argued back. I felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over my head, like an ice bucket challenge.

“Did you really think we could fix what’s wrong with us in a couple of days? Two weekends? Which is essentially only four days with you, since you have to get back to work?” I asked him, my voice somehow steady, and I swallowed hard.

“Nadia—”

“It’s not that easy, Owen,” I pointed out. How could I think we were turning a corner?

“I never said it was.”

“I told you I was going to be here for the summer. I told you I was going to fix up the house,” I reminded him. “And I meant it.”

“Nadia, you’re talking about renovations that will cost over twenty thousand dollars. You didn’t even talk about—”

“I did. I did talk about it with you. What you didn’t do, was listen. Which honestly, I’m not surprised about.”

“Nadia—”

“That’s one of the problems, Owen. You don’t listen.” My voice cracked. I hated how upset I was getting. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your money I’m using.” My grandmother had left me some money when she had passed away, and I had been smart with it.

“Again with this my money, your money crap? My money is ours, Nadia.” He sighed passively.

“Right? That’s why you’re questioning me. Like I’m stupid and have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t say that,” he growled, but I was too angry to keep trying.

“Do you have any idea what I do for you and the girls?”

“Nadia—”

“The decisions I have to make because anytime I try to talk to you, you’re just too busy?”

“Nadia—”

“And I’m not just talking about what to make for dinner or whether to buy cage-free eggs or grass-fed meat, Owen. I mean real decisions,” I stressed.

“Babe—”

“Financial ones. I make them all the time. You just don’t have the time to think about it, or you probably never realized it. But I balance our checkbooks. I make sure the bills are sent and paid on time. I make sure the girls’ after-school activity fees are never late, and that they have the equipment they need.”

“I didn’t mean—” he started to backtrack, but I was done. I didn’t want to hear it.

“Good night, Owen. If you want to see the girls before they leave for camp, the bus picks them up at eight in the morning.” Without a second thought or hesitation, I ended the call.

It might have been childish or selfish of me, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stand to talk to him a second longer.