Chapter 61
The following day came with an almost unreal silence.
Torn between incredulity and the unnerving realization that the pieces finally fit, I had spent the whole of the night flipping Owen's business card over in my hand.
The letters, the too-familiar feelings... they belonged to him. His objectives, which I was unaware of at the time, had tainted the amicable catch-up.
I struggled to catch my breath now as I pushed open the entrance to the modern, minimalist foyer of M&T Galleries.
I accepted Owen's invitation to come here prior to the discovery.
Now that I knew what I had done, facing him was like taking a stage without a script.
"Samantha," Owen gave me a friendly greeting in a relaxed, well-known voice. His effortless smile remained intact as he waited close to the receptionist's desk, looking dapper in a charcoal-gray jacket.
I forced myself to grin and said, "Owen."
"Come on," he replied, pointing to the corridor. "After I show you the area, we can have a conversation. You will adore this location.
The sound of my heels clicking on the immaculate white floors echoed as I followed him.
With lofty ceilings, delicate lighting, and a flawless design that displayed art with subtle elegance, the gallery was breathtaking.
However, I wasn't thinking about the sculptures or paintings. The knot in my chest became tighter with each step I made and every look at Owen's laid-back manner.
He took me to a comfortable, brightly lighted sitting room close to the gallery's rear.
He gestured to a leather armchair and added, "Make yourself comfortable." "Tea? Coffee?"
I put my luggage down next to me and said, "Just water, please."
He came back with two glasses and took a seat across from me. "So," he began, reclining comfortably, "how do you feel about the gallery?
I was honest when I said, "It's beautiful." "Owen, you've done well for yourself."
I briefly glimpsed the same warmth that had drew me to him as a friend years before when his expression relaxed.
However, I was unable to keep the conversation light. Not when I have so much on my plate.
Despite the nerves that were seething beneath the surface, I continued, "I need to ask you something," in a steady voice.
Intrigued, he raised an eyebrow. "All right."
I took the cream envelope I had gotten the previous evening out of my backpack. I carefully watched his response as I set it down on the coffee table between us.
A faint strain crept into his face as his gaze shifted to it and back to me.
With a controlled tone, I started, "I've been receiving these letters." "For weeks at this point. They have been left at my gallery and are quite personal, almost intimate. I pulled out his business card and said, "Last night, I found this along with the latest one."
Owen's expression changed, his easygoing manner giving way to a more reserved one. He began, "Samantha," but I interrupted him.
Owen, was it you?
He paused, looking down at the packet as though it contained some secret. With a sigh, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
"Yes," he said softly.
With a range of emotions churning inside me, my heart fell.
I'm relieved to get answers at last. Uncomfortable with the meaning of those responses.
In an earnest tone, he went on, "I never meant to freak you out or make you uncomfortable." "I simply... I was at a loss for words to express my feelings to you.
"How long, Owen?" My voice was sharper than I meant when I asked. "How long have you been experiencing these emotions?"
His eyes darted to the ground as he stroked the back of his neck.
He acknowledged, "Since before you left for London." "Even at Sterling, I realize it's insane, but I His remarks were laden with unsaid emotion as he faded off.
"Back at Sterling?" I repeated, remembering how Julie had turned our lighthearted talks into something evil back then.
Owen swiftly stated, "I wasn't going to say anything," observing my response. "I respected that you were married. However, you left after everything with Julie and Tyler happened. I considered contacting you, but I reasoned that you needed time. Then, upon learning that you had returned to New York, I
"You believed that the best way to get back in touch was to send anonymous letters?" With an incredulous tone, I interrupted.
Despite his discomfort, he nodded. "There was no other way for me to contact you. Though I didn't want to ruin things before I had a chance to explain, I wanted to say something.
I gazed at him, finding it difficult to make sense of the difference between the Owen I knew and the man seated in front of me.
Although his actions were incorrect and had resurfaced memories I had worked so hard to suppress, they weren't malevolent.
"Owen," I said, carefully selecting my words, "I respect your candor, but this... it's not acceptable. They went too far with these letters. They reminded me of things I didn't want to go over again.
With sincerity, he stated, "I didn't mean to hurt you." "Even though I couldn't express it directly, I just wanted you to know how I felt."
The weight of his revelation hung between us as we sat in quiet for a while.
Even though I could see the sincere remorse in his eyes and the vulnerability in his demeanor, his actions still made me uneasy.
My voice was lower now, but I finally said, "Owen, you're a good person, but I can't give you what you're looking for." I'm still working things out, and I've been through too much. I cannot be the solution to emotions you have been clinging to for years.
His shoulders slumped slightly as he gazed down. "I get it," he murmured softly.
I said, "I hope we can still be friends," but it sounded vacuous.
He smiled at me, a little, sourly. "That would be nice."
Before we parted ways, the awkward chat continued for a few more minutes.
I couldn't get rid of the weight in my chest as I left the gallery.
Instead of the relief I had anticipated from facing Owen, I experienced an odd mixture of frustration and despair.
His emotions were genuine, but I had no need to address them.
However, his admission sparked a deeper emotion in me that I wasn't yet prepared to confront.
As I reached the corner onto the bustling street, my phone buzzed in my ba
ckpack. I looked at the screen as I pulled it out.
Tyler texted.
We must speak. Is it possible for me to visit tonight?
My chest knot grew tighter.