by Loretta Lost
Caroline shudders at this. “But won’t he be upset if you don’t invite him? You don’t want to alienate any of your work friends, Owen. They could be valuable networking contacts to have in the future.”
I kind of want to explain to her that the only work-person I care about having at my wedding is Liam. But it seems like she is going all-out on planning a big wedding, and I want to make her happy. All that I ever wanted was to be married, not really to have an extravagant wedding.
It feels a little like we’re overcompensating for the gaps in our relationship.
Caroline sighs and turns away from me. “If you don’t want to invite Michael, you don’t have to. I’m sorry for always telling you what to do.”
I blink in surprise. “No, it’s okay. You’re right. I shouldn’t alienate anyone. I’ll send him a save-the-date. Besides, if he ends up vomiting everywhere, it will be hilarious! As long as I don’t have to clean it up.”
Caroline looks back at me with a soft expression on her face. “Thanks, Owen,” she says with a smile. “It really means a lot that you’re helping out so much with all of the planning. I know that you’re busy, and you have much better things to do.”
“What’s more important than planning our wedding?” I ask her in surprise.
“I don’t know. Everything,” she says glumly.
“Hey!” I say, rising to my feet. “That doesn’t sound like my Caroline. What gives?”
Moving over to the couch, she falls back into the cushions and places her face in her hands. She curses softly in German. “I’m sorry, Owen. This is just so overwhelming. I thought I lost you completely, and now we’re getting married. This emotional rollercoaster has left me a dizzy. I’m a mess of nerves.”
This is the first time she’s been real with me in days. She’s been acting super happy and excited about everything, and it’s left me feeling confused. It sucks when you no longer recognize the person you’ve just decided to marry.
I move over to sit beside her on the couch, and take one of her hands. “Hey. We don’t have to rush to get married this summer. We could postpone it to next year, or even some distant point in the future. If it’s stressing you out this much, maybe it’s not the right time.”
She shakes her head in refusal. “Owen, if we don’t do it now, I have a feeling that we’re never going to do it. It’s already been such a long time coming.”
I would normally make a joke about ‘such a long time coming,’ but I can’t seem to find the right words anymore. You know what they say: An unfunny Owen is not an Owen at all. Well, they probably don’t say that, but I feel like they should.
“Why don’t you make love to me anymore?” Caroline blurts out suddenly. She looks up at me with tear-filled eyes, and a quivering lip.
I find that there is suddenly a lump in my throat. Haven’t I? I guess not. It has been a while, hasn’t it? I don’t even remember the last time…
“It’s been months,” Caroline whispers as though reading my mind. “Literally months. What the fuck, Owen?”
Months? Has it really been months? How did I not even realize this? I gulp in fear. Is there something wrong with me? Have I lost my mojo? Did something bad happen the last time we had sex? I strain my brain to try and think of my last bedroom experience, and I am startled at the hazy memory that comes back to me:
“I think I’m ready,” Carmen says softly.
She is so beautiful in the dim lighting, and I feel my chest swell with emotion. “Are you sure? No way. You’re just saying that because of what Caroline did.”
She shakes her head in denial. “No, Owen. I’ve wanted you so badly, for so long. I just can’t take it anymore. All the waiting. Will you please just…?”
“You’re supposed to wait until your six-week postpartum checkup,” I inform her weakly, trying to remember all the reasons we should wait. “They have to examine you to make sure that you won’t get any infections or anything.” I want nothing more than to take her in a manly fashion, right here and now, but I know that I shouldn’t. There will be time later. There will be time soon. Maybe tomorrow, when I’m less drunk out of my mind. When I can do this properly.
“Well, why don’t you give me my postpartum checkup?” she says in a husky voice, sliding her hand down under the waistband of my shorts. Her whispered voice is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, and she is making it absolute torture to resist her. “Let’s play doctor.”
“Owen?” Caroline says again, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Oh mein Gott! You keep disappearing into your own head. Where are you going? You’re right here, but you’re not here at all!”
“I’m sorry,” I stammer in utter surprise and embarrassment. That memory from my last few moments with Carmen completely snuck up on me. It’s so painful and bittersweet to think of her now. I still feel really rejected and abandoned. There wasn’t any more time, I think to myself sadly. That was our one and only chance to be together. Our last chance. I didn’t even realize that I’d never get the opportunity to hold her again. If I had known, maybe I would have done something differently? I don’t know. Was I drinking too much? Did that bother her? Was she upset at me for waiting too long and not being more aggressive? What did I do wrong?
“Owen!” Caroline nearly shouts. “There you go again. I’m trying to open up to you here, and share my feelings. And you just stare off into space! What is it? Am I no longer desirable to you? Have I become a fat pig? I remember when you could never take your hands off me!”
“Carol, no,” I tell her quietly. Sighing deeply, I reach up to scratch my head in confusion. “I just… I haven’t been myself lately, you know? It’s not your fault. You’re still drop dead gorgeous, babe.”
“Oh, all the compliments. Such flattery!” she says with anger. “Owen, I am sick and tired of your words. Das ist mir egal! I want you to touch me! Ich liebe dich! Du fehlst mir!”
“Whoa, whoa, Caroline!” I say anxiously. Whenever she starts yelling at me in German, you know things are getting bad. Except this time, I think she’s actually saying nice things. “I’m glad you’re telling me all this. Just don’t get upset. If you’re unhappy, we’ll just fix it! Anything you want girl—I’m here to please. Just ask the Owenmeister.”
“No jokes!” she shouts. “Touch me, Owen. Show me that you still feel the way you used to. Or are we going to be one of those married couples who sleep in separate rooms because you can’t stand your wife?”
“Carol!” I exclaim with hurt. “Why would you say that? I’ve been affectionate with you, haven’t I? I’ve given you lots of hugs and kisses.”
“Sex, Owen. We haven’t had sex!” she nearly screams.
“Gee,” I say bashfully, hoping the neighbors can’t hear her. “I haven’t really thought about it. I think there’s just something wrong with me, lately. I haven’t even been in the mood to enjoy the classic cinema of my porn collection, and you know that’s weird! Maybe I should see a doctor.”
“You are a doctor!” she accuses me.
“Yeah. But I’m not a sex doctor,” I tell her cheerfully. “I guess even doctors need sex doctors sometimes.”
“Du Hurensohn! You don’t need a doctor, Owen. You need to touch me. Just fucking touch me already. Won’t you even try?”
I sit here in speechlessness for a moment, wondering if something is actually wrong with me. But I am quickly distracted from my fears when Caroline launches herself onto my body, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me fervently. She straddles me on the couch and begins grinding her hips against mine, but my body isn’t responding the way it normally does. Her eyes are closed as she kisses me, but I can see her clearly.
Oh my god, is there really something wrong with me?
I stare at her as she tries to entice me into sex, and I am a little startled by the way she feels in my arms. Her body is lean and hard, and even a bit bony—such a sharp contrast with Carmen’s small shape and soft curves. I can so clearly remember the way she
felt in my arms. Sure, the extra softness, was mostly pregnancy weight gain, but there was something so feminine about the way that—
Dammit. As soon as I imagine Carmen’s body in my arms, my pants start to tighten.
This causes a moan to escape from Caroline’s lips, and her kisses intensify. I’m feeling pretty guilty for thinking about another woman while Caroline is throwing herself at me, but I can’t help it. The unfinished business with Carmen, and the abrupt way that things ended has been weighing heavily on me. If I’m perfectly honest with myself, Carmen is probably the reason that I haven’t been touching Caroline. Although it’s ridiculous, part of me still feels like I should be loyal to her—I know that’s insane. She’s not even talking to me. She hasn’t even tried to contact me. And I’m now engaged to marry someone else.
“What’s wrong?” Caroline asks me with concern.
“Just wedding stress,” I mumble. The answer is somewhat truthful, and it inspires Caroline to try even harder. Her hands are running over my chest, and her fingers are seeking out all of my usual erogenous zones. I want to push her away and tell her that I’m just not feeling it right now, but I know that she couldn’t bear that. She is already so upset about my lack of attention.
I need to try to do this. I need to try to satisfy the woman who will soon be my wife.
My wife.
That thought does give me a hormone rush of good feelings. Safety, security, comfort. A kind of domestic bliss. What am I doing? This is Caroline! Good old Caroline, whom I’ve been banging thoroughly for years. I don’t have to force myself to touch her! She’s a freaking supermodel-like bombshell, with an exotic accent and a brain!
I give in to the sensations and wrap my arms around her tightly, sitting up straighter in the couch. I run my hands over her hair hungrily, and I am about to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom when I hear something odd on the television. I freeze in place and try to listen more closely, and my heart skips a beat in my chest.
“Carmen,” I whisper.
Caroline stops suddenly and pulls away from me, her eyes wide with shock and outrage. “What did you just say?” she asks as she stands up. “Did you just call me Carmen?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I just heard something—”
Caroline draws her hand back and slaps me across the cheek. Hard. “You were thinking about her, weren’t you?” Her voice is filled with hurt, and her eyes are filled with fury. “Is that the only way you can get it up?”
“Caro—”
“I know our names have similar syllables, but really, Owen?” she asks me in an accusing voice. “First you leave me for her, and now she’s in your head when I’m trying to make love to you?”
I raise my hand to silence her as I scramble around, searching for the remote. “One second,” I say, my attention distracted by the eerie sight on the TV screen. When I find the remote, I jam my finger down furiously on the button to increase the volume. I don’t even notice the stinging in my face any longer.
“…the majestic Winters’ estate, right here in New York. Several days ago, the family home was badly burned in what the police are saying was a targeted arson. Richard Winters was trapped inside, with the fire originating right under his bedroom.”
“Oh my god,” I say as my shoulders and chest grow tense. My heart is pumping rapidly and it feels like my blood has become ice water in my veins. The sight of the blackened house chills me to the core.
Even Caroline has become silent as she sits next to me, our attention completely ensnared by the screen. She reaches out to grasp my hand in fear.
“Carmen Winters has been missing since the morning of the fire. We’re only learning now that she was abducted and held in a rural area near Kiev by her boyfriend, Dmitri Petrov, a Ukrainian drug lord wanted for numerous offences and connected with human trafficking. It was discovered that he was living and working under the alias Bradford West, a well-respected lawyer in Manhattan.”
The news is too insane to believe. I feel like my heart has completely stopped beating in my chest. I try to breathe. I know that they got at least some of it wrong: Brad wasn’t her boyfriend. I was.
“No one suspected this young man to have such sinister roots. Remarkably, Carmen Winters was able to escape her captors and is now on her way back to the United States where her family is waiting to welcome her home.”
I shut the TV off and toss the remote control across the room. It smashes into pieces, and I think the battery goes flying under a piece of furniture. I sit there for a moment, trying to process the information. As it sinks in, my blood turns from ice to lava in my veins, and it begins to boil with rage. He took her. That bastard took her. And I didn’t even know. I was on a fucking Caribbean cruise! “I need to go,” I tell Caroline abruptly.
“Wait,” she says, clinging to my arm. “Let me come with you. I’m so sorry, Owen. I didn’t know—”
Pulling my arm away from her, I press the palm of my hand into my head. It’s beginning to feel like all of the seven dwarves are going to town on my brain with a pickaxe. “I just need some air, Carol. I’ll be back in a few.”
I can’t be in this apartment right now. I should have known that something seriously bad had happened. Instead, I let everyone tell me not to worry. I followed their advice to give her space instead of trusting my own instincts. I have been self-centered and obsessed with my own petty fucking problems. Carmen was in danger. Actual danger. And I had no clue.
Practically running out of the apartment, I grab my keys off the coat rack on my way out. I briskly walk down the hall toward an elevator and jab my thumb into the stupid button over and over again until it opens.
My new phone begins to vibrate in my pocket and I lift it up to see Caroline’s name flashing across the screen. I cancel the call and flip to my contacts. I tap my finger against Liam’s name and wait patiently for him to pick up.
“Owen,” says Liam quickly as he answers.
“Liam,” I say with more agitation than I mean to project. “What the actual fuck? Have you turned on the news?”
“No,” he tells me in an almost panicked tone, “but we’re just arriving at LaGuardia now.”
“Yeah? How long have you known?” I ask him, frowning so hard that it hurts my forehead.
“I’m so sorry, Owen. I was just about to give you a call.”
“How fucking long, Liam?!” I demand through gritted teeth. I have never felt this furious with my friend before. He’s lucky he isn’t here in front of me, or I’d be roughing him up. The fucking elevator is taking forever to arrive. I want to rip the doors open and jump down fifteen floors to get to the street level faster. I have to remind myself that wearing Superman boxers has not given me the ability to fly. I struggle to keep control of my emotions, but it’s impossible. “How long have you known that she was gone, and didn’t bother to tell me a damn thing?”
“We just found out, Owen,” he tells me quickly. “I swear.”
I’ve never known Liam to lie to me and his answer helps ease my rage. “What the hell happened?”
“We don’t know. Helen and I really thought Carmen just needed some space. We didn’t even know Richard was in the hospital until an hour ago!”
“Fuck,” I hiss, feeling my body shake with rage. Mr. Winters is such a kind old man, and he didn’t deserve this. “Carmen must have found out about the fire that morning when she left me. She went to go deal with him…”
“Yeah,” Liam confirms. “Richard feels like shit about this whole situation. He thought she was still with us. Apparently, Leslie was taking care of Richard after the fire, and he wouldn’t let her tell us. He didn’t want us to worry about him, and said we’ve spent enough time in hospitals lately.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “I’m on the way to you guys now. I want to be there when she lands.”
“I don’t think you’re going to get here on time, man,” Liam tells me. “We’re heading to Leslie’s house after we pick Carmen up. Th
at’s where the girls will be staying until they can get the Winters’ home fixed up. Why don’t you just meet us there?”
“Fine,” I say, hanging up on him abruptly. The elevator still hasn’t arrived, and I slam my fist into the wall with anger. Screw this. I’ll take the stairs.
Chapter Eighteen
Carmen Winters
Sitting on the plane as it descends, I have a huge, comfortable, baggy sweater draped around my shoulders, I just want to get lost inside its soft recesses, and forget all about everything that just happened.
“Carm—”
Unfortunately, all I can see is the look on Brad’s face right before I pulled the trigger. It was all such a blur in the moment, and it didn’t feel like it was really happening. But now, I can see every detail of the event in slow motion. I killed a man. I know that it was what I needed to do, and I don’t regret having killed him. I just never knew that it would poison every corner of my mind with guilt and sorrow. I thought that once I pulled the trigger, I could leave Brad behind me, far away in the past.
I thought that ending him meant truly ending him, but it’s not even close. Not for me. Everything he said and did seems to be persisting in my mind, replaying on an endless loop of pain and humiliation. I might have been able to stop him from ever hurting anyone else, but I can never erase the memories of the things he’s done to me.
I think I was almost hoping that I wouldn’t survive this trip.
To make matters worse, once I reached the embassy, I was forced to tell my story over and over to dozens of people. Investigators, agents, and so on. Each time I told it, I felt like a part of me died. Eventually, it got to a point where I was staring into space and unable to respond to their questions. That’s when they finally let me rest for a few days, while they checked my story and sorted out my affairs.
Obviously, there was enough evidence against Brad to easily support the fact that he was the type of man that someone would kill in self-defense. I was able to get in touch with Lauren from work, and have her present some of her findings, along with the very recent rape kit that Dr. Leslie Howard had done for me.
