Four Years Later (One Week Girlfriend #4)(71)
Author: Monica Murphy

I have to accept the fact that no matter what, Mom is always going to choose Dad first. Her behavior disappoints me, but I can’t change her and I can’t change him. It is what it is.

At least I have my new family here. Owen and Fable and Drew and Autumn. They’ve embraced me fully into their clan and I love every one of them so much. They’re always there for me no matter what, and that’s more than I can say about my own parents. I’ve grown so close to them, especially Fable. She’s like the big sister I never had. She’s so busy, what with Drew’s career and fame and her own celebrity, but she drops everything to talk to me. And Owen.

She loves us unconditionally.

The last year hasn’t been easy for them either, what with Owen and Fable’s mother dying in jail just after the new year. A heart attack, brought on by all the drug and alcohol abuse she’d done over the years.

No one was surprised and they really didn’t outwardly mourn her, but I know it was hard on them, Owen more so than Fable, only because of all the guilt he carried with him from the number his mom did. She’d worked him as hard as she could, since Fable didn’t fall for her manipulations.

And it worked. He still held on to that need to please his mom no matter how much he knew it was wrong. It was a waste of his time. So when he discovered she’d died, I comforted him as best I could and helped him deal with it, letting him talk, letting him be alone—whatever he needed, I tried to be the best girlfriend I could.

Despite everyone wanting him to try for the pros once he graduates, Owen is tempted to give up that dream. He says he doesn’t believe he has the skill level or the discipline that Drew has to make it. Owen gets distracted and he’s the first to admit it. I both admire his decision and worry for him, wishing he didn’t feel that way. I try to subtly encourage him that he shouldn’t give up on his dream.

Fable, on the other hand, is constantly pushing him to reconsider, which is her prerogative as his sister. He tells her he might, but I’m not sure. I think he’s afraid he’ll fail in Drew’s shadow and somehow disappoint us all.

I’m hoping this summer I can convince him he can do whatever he sets his mind to. He’s so strong, so smart, and so stubborn. All that determination wrapped up in his charismatic package, I don’t see how he can go wrong.

I plan on helping him realize that, though I’m not sure Owen knows what he wants to do. He just lives in the moment. That sort of attitude used to scare me to death.

Not anymore. Lately I’ve embraced living in the moment, too.

It’s rather liberating.

I’m postponing graduate school to gain back some time for myself. I’ve always done what everyone else wanted me to. I accelerated through elementary school, high school, and now college. Always working, always doing what I was supposed to. I’m finally taking some time for myself. I’ll work, I’ll spend time with Owen, I might even pick up a hobby.

I’m excited about all the unknown possibilities. I’ll be fine as long as Owen’s with me.

“There you are.” One warm, strong arm slips around my waist from behind and pulls me in. I lean my head against Owen’s chest for the briefest moment before I turn in his embrace, gazing up at his handsome face.

He’s smiling at me, his gaze soft, his hair a bit of a mess, as if he’s run his fingers through it again and again. Leaning down, he presses a tender kiss to my lips, then pulls away. “Congrats, Chels. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks.” I grin, so happy I feel like I’m going to burst. I still can’t believe he’s mine and that we’re together. That this beautiful, sweet, funny, irritating, sexy man loves me as much as I love him. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

He raises his brows. “Are you?”

“Definitely. It’s so hot.” I nod, glancing around at everyone else starting to leave the field. “We’re all dying to get out of here.”

“I have a gift for you first.” He holds up a bouquet of pink roses, the same shade as the one he gave me oh so long ago, and my heart melts. He thrusts them toward me and I take the bouquet, the clear wrapping crinkling in my hands as I bring the flowers up to my nose and breathe deep their familiar fragrance. “They always remind me of, well … you know.” He’s smiling so big and my love for him nearly overwhelms me.

“I love them,” I whisper, tears threatening, really meaning that I love him. He’s so sweet to me, so good. I remember how I once was, all tangled up in knots over everything and nothing. Worried that I was doing the wrong thing, needing to be a good girl, accomplishing my work, my assignments, desperate to keep everything under control but not really happy.

Not really living.

Owen has untangled all my knots. Smoothed them out and made me see there’s more to life than order and control and being good and seeking approval. There’s beauty and pain and love and sex and happiness and anger. And it’s okay to have all of that, to feel all of that. He makes me feel.

And I know I’m loved.

“Where to now?” he asks, his gaze warming when I unzip my graduation gown and shrug out of it, then drape it over my arm. I’m wearing a pale yellow sundress, and his eyes zero in on the little straps that tie on each of my shoulders. I can only think he’s imagining untying those bows and slowly peeling the dress off of me.

I’m imagining the same thing.

“I don’t know,” I say as he slips his arm around my shoulders and we start walking across the field toward the campus, where his car is parked.

“Feels kind of good to say that. Don’t you think?” He plays with the bow on my shoulder, his finger tracing the loop of fabric, and I shiver.

“Feels good to say what?” He’s distracting me. I can hardly focus when he touches me like that, even in a crowd of hundreds of people, like right now, because we’re surrounded completely.

Somehow, it still feels as though it’s just me and him.

“That you don’t know. We don’t know what we’re really doing next, do we? The entire summer is open for us to do whatever we want.” He smiles down at me, the sight of it making me a little dizzy, and I suddenly stop, causing him to stop, too. People brush past us, some of them grumbling irritably since we’re standing right in the middle of everyone’s path, but I don’t care.

I don’t think Owen cares either.

“I’d rather not know what I’m doing with you, Owen, than have everything plotted out for the rest of my life with someone else.” I mean it. He’s the only one I want. The only one I need.