Accepting Owen (Emilia's Perspective)

Chapter Eighteen

"What's wrong with that?" Confusion dominated Owen's features.

"You were exclusively looking for casual sex two months ago! We're married now! You weren't looking to find love and make a commitment. I'm an impulse buy!" I shrieked.

"No no no," Owen said, shaking his head. "You are not an impulse. It wasn't like that."

I took a deep breath. "I don't think that there's anything you can say to make this any better. I'm going to the beach. Please, don't talk to me right now." I stood from the bed, grabbed my bag, and headed for the dock. As soon as I felt the sand under my feet, I realized that two shots of whiskey before ten AM was probably not my best idea.

I stumbled a little on the uneven surface, but then righted myself. I found the flattest unoccupied surface and spread my towel out on it. I was rubbing sunscreen on my arms, when a towel flipped next to me and settled on top of the sand. I put my hand on my forehead to shield my eyes as I looked up, and then sighed at what I saw. "Seriously?" I asked.

"Shh." Owen stood above me, holding a finger to his lips. "We aren't talking," he said in a factual way. He didn't even seem upset in the slightest. He pulled the sunscreen bottle from my hands and lowered my shawl to put the lotion on my back where my bikini left skin exposed.

I pressed my tongue into my teeth to keep myself quiet. Owen handed the bottle back to me, and pulled his t-shirt off as I laid back on my towel. I peered at him from the shade under the umbrella. His skin was already shimmering in the sun from a slight sweat, making his tattoos even more prominent in his flesh.

He kicked his flip flops off and sighed when his bare feet touched the sand. I wanted to ask him how it felt to feel the sand between his toes for the first time, but I stayed quiet. He walked down the beach into the clear blue water and I closed my eyes, turning my face up to the sky.

I was terrified what it meant for me that I had married a man who just months ago, if not more recent than that, was using Tinder to find one night stands. What if he was commitment phobic and had just forced himself to marry me so he wouldn't be alone? That was what he'd done, wasn't it?

He offered himself up to the mafia to be married, hoping that the fear of being murdered for saying no could convince him to go through with it. It had obviously worked, if that was his ploy. He went through with it. We got married. It explained why everything seemed so easy and comfortable- he wasn't taking it seriously. He wasn't taking me seriously.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I flipped onto my stomach so I could lay my head on my arms. Did I really believe that? Could I really be thinking that Owen's feelings for me weren't real? Did that change the way I felt if I did?

The way he looked at me made it hard to believe he was lying, but maybe he didn't even know it yet himself. Maybe it wasnt really his fault, he just had some issues and was doing his best to work through them. Maybe he was still using Tinder.

My eyes flee open at the thought the moment it had crossed my mind. He still had the app on his phone when I'd asked to see Jess. Was he never planning on uninstalling it? I buried my face in my hands, tucking my elbows under my chest. How had I gotten into this situation? What would my dad say?

If I told my dad what had happened, would he side with me? Would he help me find a way out? I doubted very strongly he would accept me trying to get out of the marriage he hand selected for me. Whenever I had asked him before what would happen if things weren't right between my partner and I, he told me, "That won't happen. You will make it work."

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. "Make it work," I whispered to myself. But how were we supposed to do that? If he didn't want to be with me or never loved me, what would become of us? We would just accept ourselves as bitter, unhappy people for the rest of our lives? Would we eventually give up on the idea of happiness?

Owen groaned as he laid down beside me, and I turned my head away, trying to suppress the sobs that were forcing their way through my chest. Owen rolled into his side and rubbed my back, without saying a word.

Hot pain seared through my chest. I so desperately wanted to roll closer to him, to feel his arms around me and let him comfort me. I just wasn't ready to give in yet.

He sighed, leaning his head on my shoulder and laying his arm across my back. "Darling, you were not an impulse," he whispered in my ear. "Please don't make yourself believe that. I was ready to put down roots. I was swayed by everyone telling me how well arranged marriages can work out. I just wanted one last time."

I turned my head so he might be able to hear me better. "One last what?"

"I knew that I was going to go to my parents and have them help me find a wife," he said, sounding regretful. "After a bunch of mediocre first dates, I decided it was time. I trusted in them, but I just wanted to have no-strings sex one last time. I honestly couldn't tell you why, now. So I downloaded Tinder about two months ago. The only match I ever got was Jess. We talked for a couple of days, but neither of us was interested in a relationship with each other. So we hooked up and that was it. The next morning, I told my parents I was ready to discuss arranged marriage with them."

I gulped. "Why didn't you delete the app?"

"I just forgot it was on my phone. I only used it for one day."

I rolled onto my side so I could watch him through my sunglasses, trying to read his expression. He looked almost relieved, but I wasn't sure why. "So you aren't... afraid of commitment?" I asked after a long while.

"Afraid of... No, I'm not. I'm the opposite. All I ever wanted was commitment, but it didn't work out. That's why I turned to Tinder when I met Jess. I knew I was less likely to find someone who wanted an attachment on there. So, I did lie, kind of. I did know I was going to ask my parents about helping me find a wife, and I'm sorry that I lied. I don't want you to be hurt."

He took a long breath, holding it in for a few seconds, before blowing it out. "I really want to work this out with you. I want you to be able to enjoy this vacation instead of being miserable the entire time. So, tell me how I can help. I'll try to give you space if you need it, or I can-"

I kissed his lips softly. I was convinced. What he was saying made sense, and felt good to hear. I could understand wanting one last hoorah before your life changed. I always loved the last party of summer before the first day of school. That made sense to me, and assuaged my fears of him hating me. He did want me. He did want to commit. I had been thinking about it in the complete wrong way.

His hand wrapped around the back of my neck as he pulled my lips against his roughly, sending butterflies through my belly.