Chapter Twenty — William
1092 Words
I hated the chocolate.
That was the simplest way to put it.
I hated that Clara’s father had given Owen chocolate.
But what I hated even more was that Owen had accepted it.
I had spent most of the night thinking about it, and every time I did, I became more irritated.
Why had Owen taken it?
Was I not providing enough?
Was there something Owen needed that I wasn’t giving him?
Why would he accept something from a man he barely knew?
And the worst part was that Owen hadn’t even mentioned it to me.
If Theo hadn’t said anything at dinner, would Owen have told me?
I didn’t know.
And that question bothered me more than it should have.
I didn’t like the feeling.
Not one bit.
⸻
The next morning, I came downstairs already irritated.
Owen was in the kitchen preparing breakfast.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Morning.”
He looked at me.
I could tell he noticed something was wrong.
He didn’t ask.
He simply served my breakfast.
I sat down.
Normally, we’d talk.
Normally, he’d ask me about my day ahead or tell me something Theo had done.
Today, there was silence.
I ate quietly.
Every now and then, I caught myself looking at him.
Suspiciously.
He noticed.
Eventually, he looked at me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
It wasn’t a lie.
I was fine.
I was just annoyed.
For reasons I couldn’t properly explain.
When I left for work, Owen texted me later.
Are you okay?
I stared at the message.
I typed:
I’m fine.
He replied:
Okay.
That was it.
He didn’t question me further.
I should have been relieved.
Instead, I found myself wondering why he hadn’t pushed.
⸻
My day at work was busy.
Meetings.
Contracts.
Calls.
Numbers.
Negotiations.
But somehow, between everything, my mind kept returning to one stupid box of chocolate.
It was ridiculous.
I had dealt with billion-dollar negotiations without blinking.
Yet I was thinking about a box of chocolate someone had given my husband.
My husband.
The word suddenly felt different.
I had never cared who gave me anything.
People gave me gifts all the time.
I rarely cared.
But Owen?
For some reason, it bothered me.
On my way home, I passed a luxury chocolate shop.
I stopped.
I didn’t even think about it.
I walked inside.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Give me your best box.”
The attendant smiled.
Within minutes, I walked out with an expensive box of chocolates.
I put it in my office when I got home.
I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d bought it.
Perhaps I was trying to prove something.
Perhaps I wanted to replace the chocolate he had received.
Perhaps I was being childish.
I didn’t know.
I only knew that I didn’t want another man’s chocolate sitting in my house.
⸻
Dinner was normal.
At least, it looked normal.
Theo talked endlessly about school.
He told me about his teacher.
About his friends.
About something Jack had done.
I listened.
Owen listened.
Everything looked like a perfectly ordinary family dinner.
Except I wasn’t ordinary.
I was still thinking about the chocolate.
I didn’t understand myself.
Was I angry?
Yes.
Was I jealous?
Possibly.
But jealous of what?
A box of chocolate?
A man who had thanked Owen for helping his daughter?
That made no sense.
After dinner, Owen took Theo upstairs.
I went to my office.
I tried working.
I opened a report.
Read the same paragraph three times.
Closed it.
Opened another document.
Couldn’t concentrate.
Then I heard the familiar knock.
“Come in.”
Owen entered carrying my coffee.
“Your coffee.”
I looked at him.
“Thank you.”
He placed it on my desk.
I reached beneath the desk and took out the box.
“Here.”
I handed it to him.
He stared at it.
Then at me.
“What is this?”
“It’s chocolate.”
“I can see that.”
He looked confused.
“Why are you giving me chocolate?”
I leaned back.
“Because I don’t want you accepting chocolates from strangers.”
His eyebrows rose.
“William…”
“I mean it.”
“But he was just thanking me.”
“I know.”
“He wasn’t doing anything.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you upset?”
I looked at him.
“I don’t want you taking things from strange men.”
His expression changed.
I continued, my voice firm.
“Especially men you barely know.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“I didn’t take it because I wanted anything from him.”
“Then why did you take it?”
“I didn’t want him to feel bad.”
I stared at him.
“You should not have taken it in the first place.”
He sighed.
“Okay.”
“No buts, Owen.”
He looked at me.
“I’m serious.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t want you accepting things from strangers.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
“Especially men.”
There was a brief silence.
Then he nodded again.
“Okay, William.”
I relaxed slightly.
He picked up the chocolate box.
“I can keep this?”
“Yes.”
He smiled faintly.
“Thank you.”
Then he turned toward the door.
“Owen.”
He looked back.
“Don’t misunderstand me.”
He waited.
“This isn’t about me thinking you did something wrong.”
He nodded slowly.
“I know.”
He left.
I sat alone in my office.
The room was quiet.
I looked at the empty space where the chocolate had been.
Then I rubbed my forehead.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I had never been possessive.
I had never cared who spoke to the people I dated.
I had never cared if another man bought someone a drink.
So why did this bother me?
Why did the thought of another man giving Owen something make something inside me twist?
Why did I care that Owen had accepted it?
And why had I bought him an even more expensive box?
I leaned back in my chair.
Maybe I was angry.
Maybe I was jealous.
Maybe it was both.
But the truth was worse.
I didn’t want another man giving Owen chocolates.
I wanted to be the man who gave them to him.
And that realization left me staring at the ceiling for a very long time.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD