Four Years Later (One Week Girlfriend #4)(39)
Author: Monica Murphy

Des laughs. “You got it bad, don’t you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this over a girl. You usually just f**k ’em and leave ’em. Hell, Wade and I both have slobbered after your leftovers and you’ve never protested. What would you say if I told you I’d pick up where you left off when you’re done with the tutor?”

“I’d say I’d beat your f**king face in until you couldn’t speak,” I say, my voice low as I stare at him.

The motherfucker actually smiles. “Well, well. Look at you. All worked up over a girl. It’s kind of cute, Maguire. But you’re wasting your time with that one. She’s going to be the one who leaves first and damn, is it going to hurt. You’ll need me and what I supply more than anything once she’s gone.”

Does everyone think I’m a weak ass**le who can’t function without a joint dangling from my fingers or what? “Trust me, I don’t need you.”

“You will. Once your precious little tutor is gone.” He grins, gets up from the kitchen table, and saunters out of the room. Leaving his dirty bowl on the table for me to pick up.

So I do. I pick it up and throw it in the f**king sink, so hard the ceramic smashes everywhere, but I’m not satisfied.

I’m pissed. And a little scared. What if what he says comes true and Chelsea does leave first? I’ve never even thought about it. I’m always the one who walks away.

If the tables were turned, I don’t know if I could stand it.

Chelsea

I always thought I hated football, but this has turned out to be one of the best days of my life. Despite the dark, gloomy skies, the rain somehow decided not to fall once we arrived at the game. We’re watching from high above in a humongous skybox in the new stadium that opened a few years ago.

I’m not even paying attention to what’s happening. How can I? I’m too consumed with Owen as he watches the game with rapt attention, his expression tense, his gaze locked on the field for every play, especially when the 49ers have the ball, specifically his brother-in-law. Every once in a while he says something to either Fable or me, or he leans over to give my hand a quick squeeze. He even drops the occasional kiss on my lips.

All the while his sister sits there, watching us in obvious shock though she’s trying her best to fake it.

She’s nice, his sister. When he introduced us, she actually hugged me, her pleasure at meeting me genuine. I was a little overwhelmed at first because Owen had warned me on the drive here that she could be pretty standoffish when she first meets someone. Says she has a hard time trusting people.

I could relate. Maybe she saw that, too; I don’t know.

Fable’s definitely beautiful, petite yet busty, with long, sunny blond hair and those same flashing green eyes as Owen’s. The affection between the two of them is palpable, and it makes me happy to see such obvious sibling love.

It almost makes me a little jealous, which is so stupid and pointless. Would I ever matter as much to Owen as his sister does? Totally not fair of me to think that way, but I can’t help it.

The drive to the stadium in Santa Clara had been long but fun. He’d come and picked me up in a sullen, agitated mood, but then he’d seemed to brighten a little when he saw me. And when he kissed me, his lips had lingered, and he’d held me extra close. Told me he missed me, his gaze roving over my face as if he couldn’t get enough of me, and for whatever reason, he seemed to calm down.

Had something happened before he came to pick me up? The thought nagged at the back of my mind the entire drive. I tried not to distract him too much since it rained on us most of the way and the roads were slick, so I kept my worry to myself.

And I am a total worrier. I inherited that trait from Mom and I hate it. Though she always claimed all the worry made me that much better of a student, since I feared missing an assignment or getting a bad grade. Worrying kept me on track, she told me more than once.

Whatever.

“So how is Owen doing in school?” Fable asks, her expression curious.

It’s halftime and Owen has taken off. Probably going to the bathroom, leaving me and Fable alone together.

“He’s doing a lot better,” I say, my voice a little shaky. I wish I weren’t so intimidated but oh my God, this is Owen’s sister. The one person he seems to love more than anyone else. She pretty much raised him and he respects her so much. I just want her to like me. “When I first started seeing him, he wasn’t applying himself, you know? And he also wasn’t going to class, which is obviously a problem.”

Fable sighs. “He can be so irritating. And stubborn. If I keep telling him to do something, I swear sometimes he’ll flat-out not do it just because I want him to. You know what I mean?”

I shrug. Not really, because that’s not how I am whatsoever. And somehow I convinced Owen to do his schoolwork. Of course, he had so much on the line at that point I don’t think he was willing to risk it.

“It’s always been hard to keep him focused,” Fable continues. “He’d much rather be doing something else. I think he gets bored easily in class. He’s very smart. He just tends to get … distracted.”

“Well, he’s back on the team, he’s working, and he’s going to school but somehow maintaining his heavy schedule pretty smoothly. I’m trying to help keep him on track. He’s still playing catch-up with his portfolio for the Creative Writing class but I think he’s almost there,” I explain.

“So it sounds like he doesn’t really need to see you anymore, does he?” Fable asks, her voice gentle.

I shrug, unease slipping down my spine. “I guess not.”

She smiles. “He likes you.”

My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I like him, too.”

“Owen has never introduced me to a girl before.”

Now I’m shocked. “Really?”

Fable slowly shakes her head. “He’s always been very … independent. We both have. We’ve had to be.”

I have no idea what she’s alluding to and I wish I did. But it’s not my place to grill Owen’s sister. He should just tell me about his life on his own. Of course, I hold my own secrets close to my chest and I’m still not ready to admit anything to him.

Such as how guilty I feel for being here, in Santa Clara, when really Mom’s place isn’t that far away. I should have gone by to see her. She misses me terribly. I just talked to her on the phone yesterday and she’d sounded so sad, so desolate. She has no one, she likes to constantly tell me. No one but me. She can’t wait for me to come home and go to graduate school. She truly thinks I’m just going to move in and it’ll be the two of us against the world again.