The girls have been messaging me all morning, but still no sign from Owen. He’s not answering any of my messages and this time, it really feels as if my fuckup is final.
I spend the day in a zombie state, going through the motions and thankful I have work off this week so I don’t have to face Evie. The girls want to come over, but the truth is I just can’t see anyone. I’ve never been one to cower, to hide, but this time I have to own that I’m ashamed of my own actions.
By nighttime without a word from him, I’ve officially accepted things between Owen and me are over. And to put it plainly, I’m heartbroken. I’ve never loved anyone besides Rosie like I love Owen and instead of telling him, I used every excuse I could think of to ruin it.
It’s seven p.m. and Rosie has finally fallen asleep. It took an hour longer than usual, her little eyes looking around every once in a while as she wondered where Owen is. Eventually she tired herself out and went to bed, unable to keep waiting.
An hour after that I’m sipping wine, contemplating all the ways I can convince Owen to give me a second chance when the front door opens.
I nearly shit myself at the sight of him walking through the door. My heart jumps forward at his presence, and the only thing I want to do is jump into his arms. But I don’t. I wait for him to make the first move.
Getting up from the couch, I place my wineglass down on the coffee table, and then I slowly walk toward him, mentally scolding myself for being in an oversized pajama top and having my hair in a bun.
“Hey,” I whisper, my eyes greedily taking him in. Denim jeans, white T-shirt and all.
“Hey,” he says back.
My chest heaves up and down as I look at him, wondering which of us will speak first. Finally I break, stepping forward. “I didn’t mean it,” I blurt out.
He closes his eyes and breathes out, “I know.”
I can’t stop the tears leaking out of my eyes at his words. I step forward, hoping he doesn’t recoil, and I take another step when he stays in the same spot. Eventually I’m in front of him, toe to toe.
“You were right,” I say. “I was looking for any excuse to sabotage us, but I’m done with that now. I don’t want to be that person. I’m so lucky to have this life, with you, with Rosie. I don’t want to run from it anymore, Owen. So I’m asking, can you forgive me for my epic fuckup the other night? I can’t promise I won’t be an asshole again, but I can promise I’m going to give this my everything.” I pause, taking a deep breath, ready to tell him what’s been in my heart for a year now.
“I’m ready because I love you, Owen. And the ache I’ve been feeling the past few days since you left is worse than any I’ve ever felt before. So I’m asking—hell, I’ll even beg—for a second chance.”
He closes his eyes and they momentarily tighten as his chest continues to rise and fall. I bite the inside of my lip, waiting, internally pleading he takes me back. That he feels the same way.
“Say something,” I whisper, selfishly no longer able to take his silence.
His eyes open and that deep ocean blue I’m familiar with latches onto mine. “It’s never been a question for me if I loved you, Lottie,” he begins. “Not once. I’ve always known that I was gone from the first moment I saw you. So yes, I can easily say I love you too. I love you and I love your little girl.”
A whoosh of air leaves me and I lean forward, a deep sense of relief rushing through me at his words. I feel his hands come to rest on my arms, steadying me.
“And I want to explain where I’ve been the past few days.”
My stomach sinks but I stay silent, wanting him to explain it all.
“I understand your reservations and hesitance—you’ve been burned before—but I’d be lying if I said your actions the other night didn’t gut me. I needed time to process everything and I knew if I answered your calls, it would just pull me back in before I was ready.”
“Okay,” I say, understanding where he’s coming from.
“But there was more than that. After I’d processed it all, I just wanted to come back here and try to fix things. But I did something else, something you might be angry at.”
Oh God.
“Were you with someone else?” My voice cracks mid-sentence.
Panic flares behind his eyes. “God no. I, uh, I found Beck.”
I involuntarily rear back. “What?”
“I didn’t go and see him or anything—I’d never disrespect you like that—but I found out where he’s been living. I know you said you were scared he might try to take Rosie from you down the line, so I wanted to make sure we knew where he was, and I’ve found him.”
“Where?” I risk asking, knowing he long ago vacated the old address we shared.
“He’s in Glasgow.”
“Glasgow,” I repeat. I’ve never really liked it there; guess I have a solid reason to dislike it now.
“I don’t want to push anything on you, but if you wanted to get him to sign the papers, I just wanted you to have a way to find him.”
“Thank you,” I whisper back, thankful Owen had the balls to do what I’d be dreading.
“But I want to make something so perfectly clear that you never question it. So that when your doubts creep into your mind, you can reference this exact moment for peace and clarity. Okay?”
I look at him, nodding.
“There is zero doubt in my mind, heart, and soul that you are what I want. Rosie is what I want. My entire life I’ve been looking for something worth sticking around for, and last July when I met you, it felt like I’d finally found that. And every day since then, nothing has changed. I’m giving up nothing by being with you, but gaining everything. Do you understand me, Lottie?”
His voice is firm, full of conviction and passion. Full of love.
“I finally fucking understand. I’m so sorry I was so cruel,” I tell him through shaky sobs, hoping he puts me out of my misery soon.
Finally, a small smile drifts across his face. “It’s in the past. We’re only moving forward.”
He pulls me into him, his mouth crashing against mine. His tongue explores every inch of my own, my hand automatically grabbing his hair for support. He bends down and his hands slide under my legs, then lift me so I can wrap them around his waist.
“I want you to move in,” I say before going in for another kiss.
“I’ll pack my shit tomorrow,” he says, then bites my bottom lip.
“Good.”
I continue to ravage him as he walks us down the hall to my room.
Correction.
Our room.
“Are you okay?” Owen asks as we exit the train, our fingers locked together. My bag sits heavily on my shoulders, the legal papers Owen got from Sarah, his coworker Amanda’s wife, inside.
Yep, that Sarah whom I followed him with. Turns out she was looking into getting Beck to sign his rights away for me.
“I am,” I confirm quickly as we exit the station into the cobbled streets of Glasgow. It’s been years since I’ve been here and hopefully this will be the last time.
After much discussion and speaking with Evie, I decided it was best to go see Beck myself. He’d ignored all my attempts at contact, and I was over waiting.
We head to the pub I know he’s currently working at, the smell of beer and cigarettes lingering in the stale air. It’s no Saint Street, I will say that much.
It’s not hard to spot Beck. His tight leather jacket, probably a size too tight now that I think about it, is his dead giveaway. I look down at my own attire, my bleach-blonde hair back to its normal self. It’s not hard to see why so many people used to call us Sid and Nancy.
Now that I’m older, the names don’t seem so exciting.
“That him?” Owen asks, clearly seeing where my gaze has landed. I nod, unsure of what he’s probably thinking. Beck’s fit for sure, his sandy-colored hair and charming smile a draw. But next to Owen? Nah, he doesn’t stand a chance.
“Let’s get this over with,
” I say, beginning the walk to my ex.
A girl with raven hair sits next to him, both of them having a few beers. She notices me first, shoving Beck with her arm before he turns around.
From the sight of him you’d think I was a ghost. I guess I am in some respects.
“Jesus Christ, Lottie?” His face pinches together as though he can’t believe it.
I pull out the envelope and a pen, then place them on the only spare space on the table.
“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we, Beck?”
A soft chuckle comes from Owen and I grin on the inside.
“You need to sign over your parental rights and you need to do it now.”
“You’ve got a kid?” the girl screeches.
I look at him expectantly, his face fifty shades of red.
“I don’t have all day, Beck.” I tap my foot for added measure.
“So, what, I sign this and what happens?”
“You relinquish all legal rights to my little girl. I don’t want you having a come-to-Jesus moment years down the line and trying to take her from me. You had a chance—hell, you’ve had over a year—and you didn’t care then, so why care now?”
“What, are you gonna take me to court?”
“Sign the papers and we don’t need to. But I’m warning you, Beck, you don’t, and I’ll come for child support and you’re not going to like how much that is.”
I’m bluffing. I don’t want shit from him, but he doesn’t need to know that. Beck is cheap, always has been.
“Fine, fine, that’s good then,” he says as he grabs the pen and hastily signs all areas. “If you promise you won’t try to come after me, that’s fine.”
The girl next to him scoffs before grabbing her purse and walking away. Yep, he’s not such a prize after all, sweetheart.
I want to reach out and strangle him. Not once has he asked about her, only worried I might make him pay, literally. Piece of shit.
I want to go back in time and kick the younger Lottie who only cared about being in love and having fun with him. But then I wouldn’t have Rosie, so I guess some bad things happen for a reason.
“I don’t want anything from you ever again, Beck. In fact, I hope this is the last time I ever have to set eyes on you.” I snatch the papers off the table, careful to not let them get ruined by the little wet spots from his beer.
“We had some great times together, Lottie. It’s a shame it had to go bad,” he says, his gaze doing a once-over on my body.
I snort. “If by good times you mean cheating on me for a year and leaving me knocked up and alone, then yeah, they were great.”
I shake my head and mumble “wanker” under my breath.
“Who’s that?” he says, motioning his head to Owen but not addressing him.
“I’m the lad who’s gonna make sure her little girl doesn’t grow up wondering why she wasn’t enough for some deadbeat. I’m the one who’s gonna love her, love them both.”
I try to hide my smile, but I know parts of it peek through. Since the moment Owen found out about Rosie, he’s never left my side.
Beck lets out a humorless laugh but says nothing. I can tell seeing me move on pisses him off, but it’s because he’s territorial, no other reason.
Owen stiffens next to me, so I grab his hand and link our fingers in hopes he will calm.
“I’m sorry it turned out this way, Lo.”
I turn to him, my fingers still laced with Owen’s. “I’m not.”
With that I squeeze Owen’s hand, both of us ready to take the next train back to London and leave this all behind us.
If someday my little girl wants to know about him, I’ll tell her the truth and let her make the choice. As for Beck, I already know he’s not going to come knocking.
One Year Later — Christmas 2020
“Are you sure you want to do presents before we go see everyone?” Owen asks as Rosie bolts around the room. Owen and I have been living together for a little over a year, and things between us have never been better. It’s safe to say after getting Beck to sign those papers a year ago, I’ve finally felt as if I can move on.
“It’s just a little something I want you to have before we’re with everyone,” I say. I smooth my hands over my red velvet dress, my attempt to add some holiday cheer into the wardrobe. Also, the three of us have on ridiculous reindeer ears. To say we look like a silly Christmas card family would be an understatement.
Rosie rushes toward the tree, her red tartan dress with a white collar swaying as she runs toward us. Big golden curls sit atop her head, pinned together with a bow, while her blue eyes shine at the row of presents surrounding her.
“Okay, sit down,” I instruct Owen, my insides about to burst with excitement. Also fear. And anxiety. But mostly excitement.
“Down, down!” Rosie yells at Owen. Of course he does it instantly. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger.
I no longer have the fear of Beck taking Rosie, and in the past year conversations of Owen’s permanent presence in Rosie’s life have come up. I know she sees him as her dad. Hell, I see him as her dad too.
We’ve never talked of anything official, but I know Owen. I know how badly he wants official longevity in her life.
“Rosie, come here, baby,” I call to her. She comes running at the sound of my voice but goes straight to Owen, who is sitting on the couch. He doesn’t hesitate to scoop her up, then plop her down next to him. Her frilly white socks occupy her while I turn back to him. With shaking hands, I hand him the envelope. His eyes are curious as he rips open the top.
Rosie, being Rosie, wants in on the action, her little paws attempting to grab the paper from him. He just laughs, picking her up and placing her on his lap. She beams, wiggling on top of him.
“Hurry,” I tease, my anticipation getting the better of me.
Finally, Owen pulls out the set of papers that could possibly change everything for us. For the past two years, Owen has been by her side since before she was even born. Every appointment, every milestone, we’ve shared it with him. Plus, numerous conversations over the past two months have indeed let me know this is something he wants. Something I want too.
Slowly he looks over the paper, his mouth forming a small O shape. He continues to read it and from his sharp inhale, I know he understands what I’m asking.
“I know it’s soon, but I wouldn’t ask you unless I was one hundred percent sure. You’ve been a dad to Rosie since the moment we went to that first ultrasound appointment together. She adores you as much as I do, and to be honest, I’m pretty sure she already thinks you’re her dad. So, Owen, I wanted to make it official and ask. Would you like to adopt her?”
I pause, waiting for his response. He shudders out a breath, and his eyes latch onto my own. They’re slightly damp, something I’ve yet to see from Owen.
“I’m not sure what I did in this life to deserve the two of you, but God, Lottie, you’ve just given me the greatest gift.”
My lips turn up slightly at the sides as my eyes close briefly. Bringing my palms flat against my chest, I try to let him know how much that means to me. “Thank you,” I mouth, not only for this, but for everything.
I don’t know when my feet move on their own, but the next second I’m on the couch, next to my little family. Owen has his arms around me, his lips pressed against my head. We sit like that, Rosie slumping against Owen, her round eyes looking up at us in awe. I don’t know how much her ever-forming mind understands, but it’s clear to me in this moment, she notices the shift.
“You hear that, Rosie?” Owen whispers to her. “I’m officially your dad.”
“My dadda,” she says, her squeaky little voice repeating his words.
And her dadda he is.
Two hours later we’re at Evie’s for Christmas dinner. My mum and dad have flown in, Mum attempting to help with dinner, but truthfully she seems to be making Evie more frazzled. Dad and Steve have seemed to form a friendship, their love
of historic literature keeping them occupied.
Then there are my humans.
Stana and Ali snuggle close to one another, their three-year anniversary of meeting right around the corner. Owen may or may not have let it slip Ali has a big plan for them. A sparkly kind of plan.
Reeve sits on the edge of the couch while Em is on the floor between his legs, her attention solely focused on Rosie and trying to get her to say “Em.”
She’s only just started saying “Mama,” but I don’t want to crush Em’s dreams, so I stay silent.
Owen’s arms are wrapped around my waist while he holds me tight against him, the news of his impending adoption of Rosie the highlight of the night as soon as we walked in. Owen has been absolutely beaming ever since. I’m not sure what it would take to wipe the grin off his face, not that I want to.
Hugo and Louis, Owen and Reeve’s brothers, are chatting about their respective unis, but I suspect their interest lies more in the girl I heard Hugo mention earlier. An American girl he met at a pub a few months ago, reminding me of another couple I know.
“Okay, everyone, dinner in five! Take your seats,” Evie calls.
Everyone starts moving to the table, Rosie bolting away from Em and shakily walking to a few books tilting out of the shelf.
“I got her,” I tell Em so she and Reeve can sit down.
She takes his hand and leads him into the dining room with the others, leaving us to get Rosie.
Owen links his fingers with my own and we walk over to our girl. She doesn’t hesitate to come running toward him, her grabby hands reaching out. “Dadda!”
The moment catapults me back to when Rosie first said that magical word to him.
Owen and I are lounging on the grass at Hyde Park, enjoying an afternoon in the sun with Rosie, when it happens. “Dadadadada,” she babbles, her gaze set on Owen.
“Holy shit,” I whisper as Owen’s eyes widen.
“Did you hear that?” He turns to me, a look of awe splashed across his face.
I nod, mouth open.
He doesn’t hesitate, scooping her up in his arms and cradling her to his body.
“I am your dada, Rosie.”
Late Love Page 21
