Accepting Owen (Emilia's Perspective)

Chapter Six

"I didn't think you were coming home," my mom said from a couch in the living room.

"I'm really tired, Mom. Could you please call Miss Maurice in the morning and have her get my dress ready? I completely forgot to call her today."

"I called her already," she responded, flipping through channels on the TV. "She'll have your dress ready for you. She said to remind you to be careful with the salt if you  want to look your best."

"Yes, I'll start tomorrow. Thank you so much!" I wrapped my arms around her from behind the couch. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Did it go well?"

"Really well. I really like him. He's so smart and... comforting. He seems perfect."

"That's good, baby. I'm so glad to hear it. Now go get some rest. You sound like you're exhausted."

"I am," I mumbled as I walked down the hallway to my room. I pulled my phone out and sent a message to Owen to let me know when he made it home okay, before collapsing on my bed and falling asleep in my clothes.

~

I woke in a strange mid night haze. I felt like I hadn't slept for more than a few seconds, but simultaneously felt disoriented, like I might've slept into the next year.

I checked the clock on my nightstand, and groaned when I saw it was barely one o'clock. I reached for my phone. Owen had sent me a couple messages. The first said he had made it home safely. The second thanked me for being open and honest with him. He said, "I had a great first day getting to know you. I look forward to the next. Goodnight, darling."

I swooned inside my mind. Darling. I tried to mimic the way he'd touched my lips, but it didn't feel at all the same. I started typing a response, then decided he was probably sleeping and it could wait until morning. I locked my phone, and rolled over in bed.

It wasn't long before my phone alerted me to a new message from Owen. "I'm still awake. You can text me."

He must have seen me read it and start typing. "So my iPhone snitched, didn't it? I just woke up, but I haven't gotten much sleep anyway," I replied.

"Are you worrying?"

"No, I just feel like I can't get comfortable, and my mind is racing."

"I feel the same way. I've been rolling around all night trying to battle the thoughts in my head," he sent.

"What kind of thoughts?"

"Just curiosity about our future. Whether we should move to Chicago. What kind of life we'll live."

"We'll have to figure it out as we go. I think as long as we work together, everything will fall into place. I wish I had stayed with you," I responded.

"I know, but tomorrow night you can stay with me. Then, the day after, we'll be getting married."

I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths. I felt completely awake. "That's so crazy! If you're tired, you can sleep. I'm not really tired anymore, but I don't want to keep you awake."

My phone started ringing, and when I answered his face appeared on my screen. He was yellow from the dim lights in his house. "Hi," he rasped, in a voice deeper than normal.

My insides melted like butter at the sound of his sleepy voice. "Hi," I answered, flipping the lamp on beside my bed and rolling into my belly.

"You didn't even change your clothes?" he chuckled as the light illuminated my face and shirt.

"I didn't. I just walked in and fell asleep." I felt nervous again, trying to take in his features again and commit them to memory. When we lay in bed next to each other, this is what he will look like, I thought to myself. "It's weird to see you and not be able to feel you."

"It is. I'm tempted to just come and get you and bring you home with me."

My heart picked up its pace. "You can, if you really want to."

"Would it wake your parents up?" he asked.

"I stumbled in, drunk, at three thirty the other night. I don't think they notice anymore."

"Fuck," he grumbled, sitting up quickly. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

I changed into a long t-shirt and shorts as I packed an old bookbag with clothes to wear for the next day. The call was still connected, but neither of us were saying anything as I got ready and he drove. I stuffed my toothbrush and phone charger into my bag, and whispered, "I'm all ready for the sleepover," into my phone.

His laughter made me smile. "I'm almost there."

"I'll meet you outside." I pulled the bag over my shoulder and padded down the hallway. I slipped my shoes on by the door, and walked outside just as Owen's headlights danced against the concrete driveway.

The drive was mostly silent, but he held my hand as he maneuvered through the darkness back to his place. He carried my bag through the door for me, and held his arms out. He seemed excited, and I thought my heart would beat out of my chest. "Welcome home," he said.