noise, it’s clear they aren’t aware that we’re coming.
Charley puts her finger to her lips. “Shhhh… Let's sneak up on them.”
We both giggle and crouch down like some kind of stealth FBI mission is going on. As we get closer, we stay glued to the bar and listen.
“Okay, enough with the bullshit. When are you going to settle down with Olivia? You guys are practically living together as it is. When are you going to marry that keeper?” Travis asks.
“Yeah! Trav and I have a bet that you’ll be the next one to bite the dust,” Marc pipes in.
“Guys. Seriously. You know me so much better than that. I’m not the marrying guy. Making a commitment to being with one person for the rest of my life freaks me the fuck out! I love Olivia a lot. I won’t deny that. But marriage? Mmm…I don’t think so.” Owen diverts his gaze and shakes his head as if it were the craziest thing he’s ever heard.
Charley and I are giggling...until we’re not. My heart sinks and I straighten my back. I blink, and I know I’m blushing even though it’s not noticeable in the dark. I look at Charley, who must have heard it too because she’s looking at me with that, Olivia, don’t run look in her eyes.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say loudly and turn on my heel, walking toward the restroom.
Tears prick my eyes as I make my way through the crowd. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The tears are coming. I need to get somewhere to hide out for a minute fast. Of course the one private bathroom that’s open is the one Owen and I made love—I mean fucked—in that fateful night. Jesus Christ, can I just get one break here?
I slide into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I sit on the chaise lounge, where the man I love more than anything had his way with me a year ago. Putting my head in my hands, I sob. Why does this bother me? Just because he loves me doesn’t mean he wants to marry me. Those are two very different things. And we’ve only been together for a year or so, so what makes me think that he’s even ready to make that commitment? I mean, Travis and Lucy have been together for, like, three years or something.
I’m not making myself feel any better. Why wouldn’t he want to marry me? What’s wrong with me? Am I just his fuck buddy? He asked me to move in with him. Maybe that was to shut me up? Make me happy so I wouldn’t want or ask for more? I barely have a toothbrush in his bathroom. Oh my God, he’s going to leave me. And there it is—alcoholic psychosis. Two mojitos in and I’m raving like a lunatic. I’m embarrassing myself.
I look around as if A) someone can hear my thoughts and B) someone is in the room with me. Yeah, you’ve lost it, Liv.
I grab a disposable paper cup from the wall dispenser and hurriedly drink two glasses of water. The bottom line—when I finish digging through all of my crazy thoughts—is that I’m hurt. I love him. I want him to want to marry me. And he doesn’t, and that hurts—a lot. I was wondering what that pang of jealousy was earlier, and now I know. Owen is my permanent future, and it looks like I’m not his. Jeez, that’s a painful pill to swallow.
“Ollivviaa…” I hear from the door. “Is my naughty girl ready for me? Open up, baby,” Owen says, knocking loudly.
I don’t respond, hoping he’ll just go away.
“Olivia?” he says again, this time more inquisitively. He won’t stop looking for me. It’s no use.
I unlock the door and peek my head out suspiciously. When I see him, I turn away and let him in. I move over to the sink and put my hands on the edge, my head down. He walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, kissing the back of my neck.
“Couldn’t wait for us to do this again, could you? God, I love you. You make me so fucking horny all the damn time.” He’s drunk, rubbing his erection firmly against my ass. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got under there, baby? You know it drives me crazy,” he growls as he
Charley puts her finger to her lips. “Shhhh… Let's sneak up on them.”
We both giggle and crouch down like some kind of stealth FBI mission is going on. As we get closer, we stay glued to the bar and listen.
“Okay, enough with the bullshit. When are you going to settle down with Olivia? You guys are practically living together as it is. When are you going to marry that keeper?” Travis asks.
“Yeah! Trav and I have a bet that you’ll be the next one to bite the dust,” Marc pipes in.
“Guys. Seriously. You know me so much better than that. I’m not the marrying guy. Making a commitment to being with one person for the rest of my life freaks me the fuck out! I love Olivia a lot. I won’t deny that. But marriage? Mmm…I don’t think so.” Owen diverts his gaze and shakes his head as if it were the craziest thing he’s ever heard.
Charley and I are giggling...until we’re not. My heart sinks and I straighten my back. I blink, and I know I’m blushing even though it’s not noticeable in the dark. I look at Charley, who must have heard it too because she’s looking at me with that, Olivia, don’t run look in her eyes.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say loudly and turn on my heel, walking toward the restroom.
Tears prick my eyes as I make my way through the crowd. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The tears are coming. I need to get somewhere to hide out for a minute fast. Of course the one private bathroom that’s open is the one Owen and I made love—I mean fucked—in that fateful night. Jesus Christ, can I just get one break here?
I slide into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I sit on the chaise lounge, where the man I love more than anything had his way with me a year ago. Putting my head in my hands, I sob. Why does this bother me? Just because he loves me doesn’t mean he wants to marry me. Those are two very different things. And we’ve only been together for a year or so, so what makes me think that he’s even ready to make that commitment? I mean, Travis and Lucy have been together for, like, three years or something.
I’m not making myself feel any better. Why wouldn’t he want to marry me? What’s wrong with me? Am I just his fuck buddy? He asked me to move in with him. Maybe that was to shut me up? Make me happy so I wouldn’t want or ask for more? I barely have a toothbrush in his bathroom. Oh my God, he’s going to leave me. And there it is—alcoholic psychosis. Two mojitos in and I’m raving like a lunatic. I’m embarrassing myself.
I look around as if A) someone can hear my thoughts and B) someone is in the room with me. Yeah, you’ve lost it, Liv.
I grab a disposable paper cup from the wall dispenser and hurriedly drink two glasses of water. The bottom line—when I finish digging through all of my crazy thoughts—is that I’m hurt. I love him. I want him to want to marry me. And he doesn’t, and that hurts—a lot. I was wondering what that pang of jealousy was earlier, and now I know. Owen is my permanent future, and it looks like I’m not his. Jeez, that’s a painful pill to swallow.
“Ollivviaa…” I hear from the door. “Is my naughty girl ready for me? Open up, baby,” Owen says, knocking loudly.
I don’t respond, hoping he’ll just go away.
“Olivia?” he says again, this time more inquisitively. He won’t stop looking for me. It’s no use.
I unlock the door and peek my head out suspiciously. When I see him, I turn away and let him in. I move over to the sink and put my hands on the edge, my head down. He walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, kissing the back of my neck.
“Couldn’t wait for us to do this again, could you? God, I love you. You make me so fucking horny all the damn time.” He’s drunk, rubbing his erection firmly against my ass. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got under there, baby? You know it drives me crazy,” he growls as he
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