Imperfect Storm

Chapter 17 A Family Dinner.

The air was filled with tension. Dinner at my dad's house, a supposed family reunion, felt more like a gathering of wary strangers. My parents, forced smiles on their faces, sat across from Owen and his eerily composed mother, Emily. The rest of the table – a hodgepodge of spouses and in-laws – only amplified the awkwardness.
Every secret, every betrayal, churning my stomach. Hillary, ever the optimist, had orchestrated this "long overdue" dinner. "Where's Shane?" Mom chirped, acting oblivious to everything.
"Business trip," Emily replied smoothly, "sends his love." I stole a glance at Owen, searching for a flicker of emotion on his face. Nothing.
Michael Bublé's smooth voice did little to ease the tension. Vanessa, eyeing the adorable Rylen and Emma perched in their high chairs, cooed, "They're just perfect! Honey, maybe it's time..." Jack, nearly choked on his wine. The word "sure!" did little to mask his discomfort.
The night stretched on, each excruciating minute punctuated by forced conversations and hollow laughter. Finally, seeking refuge in the kitchen, I shared a bowl of ice cream with Hillary.
"What were you thinking?" I asked.
"If you didn't want to come, why bother?" a hint of defensiveness in her voice.
"Did we have a choice, Hill?"
"Look, everyone needed to see Rylen and Emma. Dad never visited them after they were born. We had to do this."
"For who? Dad wouldn't even acknowledge them. And Vanessa? She has no right to be near our family!"
"Meg, bitterness gets you nowhere,"

Just then, I noticed Vanessa and Owen were missing. Panic clawed at my throat. I found them by the pool, their figures illuminated by the soft glow of the patio light.
"This is getting old, Vanessa," Owen said.
"But it's so much fun being near you," her fingers trailing down his arm. My nails dug into my palms seeing her touch him like that.
"Stop it," he growled, pushing her hand away.
"You never called," she whined. "Why wouldn't you want to hear from me?"
"Why did you even give me your number? Meg found it, and now you're here..." His voice trailed off.
"Because she's insecure," Vanessa said.
"Don't talk about her like that," Owen snapped. "You have no idea. Just leave, Vanessa. You're making a fool of yourself."
She lunged for him, "But Owen!"
Their faces collided, and a scream threatened to escape my lips.
"Get away from me!" Owen roared. "You're a nightmare! Just like Cole! Except you're not even good at blackmail. Meg and I have nothing to hide. Get. Out. Of. My. Life!"
He stormed past me, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and relief. Vanessa stood there, a statue of shock. Taking Owen's hand, I walked back inside, the weight of the evening finally lifting.

The car was silent except for the faint hum of the engine. "Hey," I said softly, reaching over to touch Owen's arm.
He glanced at me, then back at the road. "Yeah?"
"Just wondering if you're okay. Tonight was a lot."
"Mind over matter," he muttered, turning onto our street a little too sharply.
Pulling into the driveway, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. He shut off the engine, and our eyes met in the dim glow of the dashboard.
"I'm here for you," I said, my voice thick. "Always."
A smile touched his lips. "Yeah, you are."
His hand found mine, and for a moment, everything else faded away. But the moment was shattered by a whimper from the back seat.
Owen sighed, the tension returning to his face.
I laughed, the sound brittle. "Let's get inside."

THE SCENT OF DISINFECTANT greeted me as I pushed open the office doors. Startled, Lucy practically leaped out of her chair, scattering pens across the floor.

"Good morning!" she chirped, hastily gathering the mess. "Coffee run?"
"Iced, please," I replied, my voice sharper than I intended.
Lucy scurried off, her usually composed demeanor ruffled. As I climbed the stairs to my office, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. These past few weeks had been a blur of sleepless nights and relentless worry. Everything felt raw, and on edge.
Reaching my office, I sank into my chair, the cool leather a small comfort. Lucy entered, placing a cold glass on my desk.
"Thanks," I managed, taking a long sip. "Emma's doing well, by the way."
Lucy lingered, a hesitant smile on her face. "She is? Wonderful, Mrs. Wrightson. Congratulations again! I wish you all the best."
"Thank you, Lucy. I appreciate it." A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "Schedule for today?"
"Coming right up."
The rich aroma of coffee filled the air, a small promise of normalcy in the chaos of new motherhood. But beneath the surface. The road ahead was long, but for now, I had this tiny cup of sanity, and that was enough.

"I'm home." I yell, putting down my handbag on the table next to the door. The smell of roses hit me as I push open the bedroom door. The flickering candlelight paints dancing shadows on the dark walls. I shrug off my jacket and kick off my heels, pausing for a moment to take it all in.
"Hi, beautiful," Owen murmurs, pulling me into a tight embrace.
"Hey yourself," I reply, melting into his warmth. "The room looks amazing! Like a honeymoon suite."
A grin spreads across Owen's face. "Well, since we never had one, I thought I'd bring a little honeymoon here."
Two elegant vases flank the bed, each overflowing with blood red roses. Soft candlelight bathes the room, a gentle counterpoint to the scattered darkness. A playful tumble of chocolates in the center of the bed.
"If I knew you had this romantic side," I tease, laughing as I pull him in for a kiss. But the moment is shattered by the faint cries of Emma on the baby monitor.
"Duty calls," Owen sighs, already reaching for the device.
"Go get her," I murmur, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. The weight of the day, the constant demands of motherhood, settle heavily on my shoulders. I know Owen feels it too.
With a tired sigh, I sink onto the bed, my gaze drifting to the ceiling. Unwrapping a chocolate, I let the bittersweet taste melt on my tongue. Sleep must have overtaken me because the next thing I know, I feel Owen's gentle touch brushing the hair from my face.
My eyes flutter open to find him smiling down at me. "Looks like someone got sleepy."
"Yeah," I admit, a soft smile tugging at my lips. "Must have been the long day. Thanks for taking care of everything, babe. I really needed this."
He leans down, his kiss a promise of comfort and support. "I'll run you a bath, Mrs. Wrightson," he whispers.