—thirtyeight—
the missing gift
WEEKS BEFORE THE Royal Ball, Paige's mom and Isolde practically governed her walk-in dresser−they'd called out two wardrobe stylists and worked with the housemaids to pull out the clothes she wouldn't need and the ones that weren't too appealing both for her frame and the public eye.
Then, they replaced those they had taken out with neutral colors and classic pieces so that it would be easier for her to throw on what to wear without much effort, although still looking well-put together. Clothes that had been cast off were kept in boxes for donation; but most of them were given to the maids by Paige herself, with Aoife being favored the most since they were pretty much the same figures; while the others thought some of the dresses weren't a good match to their ages.
Aoife thanked her copiously.
Even though natural colors−whites and creams, blacks, grays, beige or tans, olives, and blush pinks−had mostly filled the closets to the brim, she requested for some of her other favorite colors like red and purple to be left behind and keep them. They were all but an endangered species to her now, but this would have to do.
So as she stood in front of her life-size mirror days after her birthday, she studied her turtleneck sweater, skinny jeans, knee-high boots, leather gloves−all in black color, only to accentuate the style with a red overcoat. Paige swept in a good amount of air as she pulled up a contented smile.
This was new, but this was good.
Adjustments might not had been completely nice to her but the change was for the better, she thought. She'd also let her hair cascade into soft waves, which she normally wasn't used to doing before, then ran her fingers through them as her attention riveted to the necklace on her chest.
Tilting her head down, she dredged up the pendant then stared at it in the mirror. It was difficult to hide the sadness in her eyes but she'd been practicing the art of looking fine. Why good things had to come to an end left her a frustrated mess. She knew that very well, though, even before everything began.
It was the thought of starting all over again that just made it hard for her.
She had to go on even though she felt like her limbs were slowly falling off.
But if going back to square one meant turning straight back into Owen's arms, she didn't think she would be lamenting about it at all. Feeling the cutting edges of the diamonds placed around the pendant, she thought about Owen's words when he gave it to her.
The world is round, Paige.
Paige nodded to herself. He was right. It was like an upside-down thing. Today she carried the world, tomorrow she would finally stand at the top of it. And if Owen would be the only person who could help her pick up the pieces together, then...
So many of them had come and gone, but he's the one you end up running to. You let others break your heart, while he was the one who'd wiped your tears away. Some people might have shaken you off your pedestal, but he'd always been the one who kept you out of that absolute instability.
Owen is your pillar of strength, Paige. He's the one you always come back to.
Because he is home.
...then, if this would work out, if Owen was the right one all along, she would promise to give her whole heart to him.
I promise, she reassured inside her head with a shaky breath and tightened her fingers around the pendant.
Picking up her black leather handbag, she strode out of her room and was soon heading to Manor Hotel to visit Owen.
He'd called her last night to have breakfast with him at the hotel today as if it was to kick off the 'thing', whatever it was they had now. But she soon found herself smiling, her eyes moving past the blurry images of the world outside the window of the car.
The journey to the hotel lulled her into the backseat with a cozy silence. Crisp snowflakes were sprinkling down all throughout the city that the windows turned into foggy mirrors of Christmas lights, ice-coated twigs, joyous laughter, and strangers covered in fur of the early morning cold, passing by each other.
Strangers. Why does that word sound so familiarly sad and happy at the same time?
Her mind wandered off.
How long had it been since the last time she visited Jude and Robin? Once, right before her birthday, she swung by the hospital in an attempt to invite him and her daughter, only to find out that it was Jude's last day there.
Cain had told her that she could just visit him at their apartment anytime she wanted−apparently, Jude refused the invitation because he didn't feel like he could anyway. She took a mental note to pencil him in on her schedule−amidst the clutter of college and training.
Minutes before arriving, Paige placed the black beret atop her head and craned her neck to stare at the three golden buildings looming ahead. For some reason, she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth curving up into a wide smile.
"Good morning, Ms Paige," one bellman greeted the second she arrived.
"Hello," she replied brightly, clasping her handbag against her abdomen that she'd hoped didn't appear too stiff. "Thank you for your hard work, sir. You have a good one."
"Oh," the employee was rather stunned at this, if his eyes blinking minutely would be a good indication. Paige quirked up her lips in amusement at the fact that the guy possibly didn't expect that, "of course, Miss. And you are most welcome."
She nodded before proceeding further onto the red carpet.
The guests lounging at the main lobby simultaneously turned to her when they noticed her arrival and she had to stop the heat that promptly spread across her cheeks. It was bad enough that the area seemed like a football field before she could reach where the elevators were.
It wasn't long before she decided that it was one of the cons, or pros, of living her life the way it was now. She had a bodyguard shadowing behind her, and her face had been to many places across the country that it was nearly impossible for her not to be recognized now.
Even in the university, pretty much everyone had treated her differently. Where before she was a nobody, now she was the center of attention−the anxiety that came with it was something she had yet to overcome. Paige was a wallflower and she liked it that way. But with the set of things now, that would be nearly impossible.
Malcolm sidestepped her to push the button himself, his reflexes so fast it was as if he felt her discomfort. She gave him a lopsided smile and let out a breath when the marathon was all over.
"I don't understand why you still have to go up with me," she said, her question ricocheting off the walls since there was just the two of them inside the lift. "I have hands. I can push the buttons myself just fine."
Malcolm, behind his full-black glasses, allowed a fleeting smirk. "Unless you detest me in a way people do for Nickelback, then you'd be damn sure I will be around for a very long time, Miss."
She shot him a frigid look in the mirror in front of them. But Malcolm didn't seem to notice it. Or, perhaps, he just shrugged it off as most days.
But stilled when his words hung in the air. "Wait," she dramatically paused, the pleasure lacing her tone, "you listen to Nickelback?" His head snapped to her in her peripheral vision and she was sure that her face was all smug now. "Thought you're not the type. Like, I don't know, you seem like you'd only listen to Louis Armstrong while shooting people..."
She couldn't help but chuckle when Malcolm fully turned to her as if appalled at her words.
She shrugged. "I mean, hey, I'm not stereotyping here. When I think about it, it does seem cool to pull the trigger, slow motion, while What A Wonderful World is playing."
"I've been in the service for long enough, Ms Paige," he began sternly, hardly fazed when the elevators paused to let in two girls in business clothes. But when he continued, he grumbled under his breath, "Worked with many people, taught brats a couple of lessons, had broken a prime minister's son's nose−can't say I won't be using crafty ways to teach you a thing or two."
But his words easily tickled her sides; albeit she willed herself not to burst out laughing. At least, not when other people were around. But as soon as the ladies stepped out to the 16th floor, where some of the restaurants and boutique shops were located, Malcolm squared his shoulders and spoke with an emotionless voice this time.
"I do listen to Nickelback."
She lost all of her serious bones and cracked up.
"You're not being so nice right now."
Paige held her hand up and tried to do so, only ever sobering up after a series of tears and several failed attempts in keeping the amusement at bay. "It's not a bad thing, Malcolm. I don't know why it's so amusing to me, though. It's just so cute to imagine someone as...phlegmatic as you sticking his earphones in and bob his head to Nickelback."
"Cute is for ten-year-olds, Ms Paige. Not for me."
"Whatever you say," she said, looking up at the red digitalized numbers−38th floor.
It wasn't long before they reached the 44th, just then Malcolm left her, right when Owen's door started flying open, to help himself with coffee from the vending machine.
It was involuntary−the shivers that raced down her spine and the winding of her fingers around the handle of her bag as she placed it down in front of her like a shy girl; one Owen was so familiar with. His lips curved up into a barely-there smirk when he noticed her bashfulness.
Owen leaned into her to plant a soft kiss on her cheek. And it was so unexpected that she was sure her heart skipped a couple of beats. He lingered there for a moment, and she found herself fluttering her eyes close at the sudden delivery of his scent−he was a coalescence of leathery, woody notes, with a hint of citrus and lavender, all of which reminded her of both fall and winter.
In short, Owen was a portmanteau of all masculinity in the world that made her weak at the knees.
"Good morning," she managed when they broke apart. Her voice was so small that she even thought she couldn't hear her own voice. But Owen turned up an easy smirk. He returned the greeting and closed the door softly behind him.
"Come," he shot his hand out to her. Gingerly, she reached for it and he tugged her to the round table by the middle of his office, positioned close to the large glass window. There were foods laid out on the table but she couldn't help but stare in awe at the scenery of downtown Bradbury, "She's a beauty, isn't she?"
"Yes." She looked at upside of her left and found Owen staring at her rather strangely. "You should set the curtains aside more often."
He shook his head. "I go out to the balcony when I want to clear my head while looking at it at the same time. But now's not the time. It's too cold, so I just settled for this today."
"You haven't prepared much," she quipped as she looked down, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Wow, thank you."
There were french toasts, croissants, a pot of coffee, pancakes, ham and scrambled eggs, bacon, and some fruits all systematically cut and beautifully arranged on an oval plate. There were roses as the centerpiece, plates and utensils prepared in a fine-dining way. It was almost like the breakfasts she had in Paris. Owen simply smiled and pulled the chair for her to be seated before rounding to his so that now they were facing each other.
Owen flapped his napkin before placing it on his lap. "Well, you're allergic to eggs so there's ham and bacon. I know you still eat it but I don't want you to leave the hotel looking like you've been a playground for mosquitoes or something."
Paige chuckled.
The meal passed in a companionable silence, only speaking when Owen had asked her if she wanted more of this and that. Sometimes, Owen could be very suave and sweet when he wanted to. The times she had with him had always been comforting, save for the times whenever he'd make some remarks that would make her heart race.
Or−things that would seem to dismantle all the thinning sanity she was left with. Others might had to be kissed before they could stumble into the ground like a weakened blob of one's self. While Owen had simply served her a bacon and sliced it into smaller pieces and already, she was sure she'd be thinking of it for days.
It was the idea which pushed him to do so that made her affected more than she let on. Not the act itself but the thought of the act.
"When's your Christmas break?" he asked afterwards, wiping the rim of his mouth with his napkin. "I thought of going on a time-off for a couple of days. I was thinking if you could come with me at Lakewood; it's the best season to go visit there−"
She almost spat the coffee she was drinking.
"You alright?" He hurried to her side and rubbed her back. She nodded and planted her hand on her chest. He immediately helped her with water, and even though she wasn't thirsty at all, she snatched the glass out of his hand and practically drowned herself with it. "Easy, Paige."
She breathed and looked up at him. "What did you say?"
He scrooched so that his eyes were leveled to hers. Then, he smiled, his eyes perennially expressive and bright. "I want you to come with me at Lakewood."
"I−" She swallowed. What did she say to Jouwee about this not happening again? "I don't think..."
"Come on. It will be awesome."
His tone was mellifluous, tickling her ears with sweet tones that she eventually found herself nodding. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes, I'm coming with you."
Owen's smile widened, but not after biting his bottom lip as if to stop himself from smiling in the first place. "Okay. Sounds amazing."
And then she bit her lip, too. Only to chuckle in the end rather quietly.
Maybe just maybe, they would work out in the end.
﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
"No, it's unnecessary," she said to Owen as they footslogged towards the direction of the elevator. He'd told her that he would drive her to university and to the park starting tomorrow, which she immediately decided against. "It's bad enough that I have two bodyguards with me all the time."
"Well, how about this..." he paused in his tracks, so did she, "I take the route to your university, they take the park. Hackett and Manor are practically neighbors. It's a good deal already; what do you say?"
She rolled her eyes, keeping her amusement at bay. "It's not like you're one to listen."
Owen smirked. "You got the hang of it, babe."
She tried to ignore the endearment, hoping it wouldn't get to her by overthinking such a simple thing. When they reached Malcolm sitting at a couch in front of the elevator, he closed the newspaper he was reading and stood up.
It was Owen who ambled to him first. "We were talking terms about me driving her to school and you guys picking her up when it's time for her to go to the amusement park. However−" he added when Malcolm opened his mouth, "you can follow us around, I don't mind. Abduction's not my style, though. Why would I when I can make the girl say yes?" he joked, chuckling when Paige whacked his arm.
Malcolm nodded without a word, and they all moseyed towards the lift. Just as Malcolm pushed the button to the ground floor, Owen cursed under his breath.
"Give me a minute. I left my phone."
"Okay," Paige said, and they stumbled back from the opening doors.
It wasn't even a minute later when they heard muffled footsteps hot on his heels. He was close when Malcolm pushed the button again so they went inside the lift first.
A janitor was stood at the far corner−his overall attire a good indication for his position just like any housekeeping attendants of Manor. She smiled and turned, with Malcolm occupying the position behind her so he was leveled to the other man.
The doors were closing in as the mirrors reflected them all, her eyes cursorily glancing at the people with her. She perked up when a hand wedged between the doors and Owen waited until the elevator was wide open.
"Sorry." His eyes traveled across for a moment before he smiled and sidled next to her. "Oh, one sec−"
Paige groaned. "What is it this−" her words cut short when Owen reached for the skin right under her bottom lip and wiped something off, the pad of his thumb leaving a hot trail. It was as if he just lit her up and instantly, she was ablaze.
"Strawberry jam."
She wanted to vanish.
Although the elevator was on bullet speed, the ride was still relatively long compared to the other buildings she'd been into. They were in the 44th so it was simple logic why she had to cozy up for awhile.
Instinctively, she rubbed her hands down her arms as if the snowfall made its way inside. She froze when a pair of hands did the same to her, making her glance up to her left.
"You cold?"
"Um−yeah," she replied and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He was grinning like hell and she scowled at him. Nudging him in the rib, she said, "You're clearly poking fun at me."
"I wasn't the one making the excuses." He barely felt her elbow because his mouth tilted up into a lazy smile, his lashes fluttering in a somewhat dreamy fashion. Ignoring her frigid stare, he hooked his arm around her shoulder rather swiftly that her face was all but buried into his chest. "Don't forget about it, alright?"
When she turned to him, she hadn't anticipated how narrow their proximity actually was. Their noses were a hairsbreadth away so she had to draw back a little.
But Owen, as the stupid jerk that he normally was, had to push her head back in while she, on the other hand, had to fight him back. "Owen, you idiot!"
She defeated when Owen pressed a deep kiss on her cheek, and she dragged a sharp breath. Snickers of his filled all the fours walls of the elevator and Paige shoved him away, trying to stop the blood rushing to her face.
Only for him to hook her back with his arm just as they reached the ground floor. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes," she drawled as they stepped out, only to pause in their tracks when her foot stepped onto something. "Wait."
When she inspected the hard thing against the sole of her boot, her eyebrows immediately weaved together in confusion.
Silver.
She bent down, ignoring Malcolm's demand to let her stand up and let him do it. But this was something she had to see first.
Her breath stopped.
After a few moments, she picked up the hair clip with diamonds on it, her fingers shaking as she held her dad's gift for her sixteenth birthday. It was still in mint condition as if she'd traveled back in time−to the very same day she'd lost it. Which had happened months ago!
"Oh, my god," she said and stood up, still quite in disbelief. "I didn't think I'd find this ever again. I lost it a long time ago! How did this happen?"
"Is that yours?" Owen asked.
Paige studied the clip. She remembered her name was embossed on the upper edge of it somewhere. "Yeah, it's mine," she said.
She looked ahead of the lobby in an attempt to find someone who'd perhaps dropped it. And then behind. But everyone was busy at the lobby, and behind them was nothing but an empty hall of elevators.
She shook her head and beckoned the two to walk again. The important thing was−she got the hair clip back.
She was so happy that she tiptoed on her toes as she grabbed Owen, planting a kiss on his cheek before leaving him speechless.