My Husband’s Countdown Dropped When She Smiled At Him Chapter 02

My Husband’s Countdown Dropped When She Smiled At Him Chapter 02

After dropping Paige off, it was already past eight-thirty.

The rain hadn’t let up. If anything, it was coming down even harder.

The car pulled into the apartment garage.

Owen killed the engine.

He turned and reached over to unbuckle my seatbelt.

“I’m sorry, Nora.”

His knuckles brushed against my collarbone. His skin was warm.

“I’ll cancel all my meetings tomorrow and take you to that restaurant. Just the two of us. Okay?”

I looked at his face, so close to mine.

Seven years of marriage.

He was still handsome. Still wearing that familiar tenderness.

His eyes were still locked on me.

But that red number above his head wouldn’t go away. [198 days 11 hours 45 minutes]

I unbuckled my own belt and pushed the door open.

“No thanks. I’m tired. I just want to rest.”

We didn’t talk for the rest of the night.

When I came out of the shower, my head felt heavy and my throat was dry.

Probably from the cold air in the car.

Owen came out of the kitchen with a glass of hot water.

When he saw my face, he walked right over and pressed the back of his hand to my forehead.

“You’re burning up.”

His brow knotted tight.

“Did you catch a cold in the car?”

He guided me to the couch, moving as gently as if I were made of glass.

Then he got the first aid kit, found fever reducers and cold medicine.

Went back to the kitchen for warm water.

“Take these first.”

He put the pills in my palm and watched me swallow them.

“I’ll make you some tea with honey and lemon. Go lie down.”

I leaned back against the pillow, listening to the sound of him cutting ginger in the kitchen.

The clink of the spatula. The sound of water boiling.

That was Owen.

He’d never hit me, never been cheap with me.

He took care of me when I was sick. He brought me an umbrella on rainy days.

He was a flawless husband.

And that was why, for seven years, I’d let that slow-boiling happiness numb me completely.

Until the countdown appeared.

Owen came in with the tea and set it carefully on the nightstand.

“Let it cool for a minute. It’s hot.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand.

“Still mad at me?”

He smiled and squeezed my fingers. 　　“I swear, I just felt bad for her. She’s just a kid. You’re the only one I want.”

I looked at him.

Was I really the only one?

I looked at the numbers above his head. [198 days 10 hours 20 minutes]

No change.

His guilt and his sweet-talking didn’t buy back even one second.

I closed my eyes and pulled my hand out of his.

“I’m not mad.”

That’s when his phone rang.

Loud and sharp in the quiet bedroom.

Owen blinked, then picked it up from the nightstand.

The screen lit up, and I saw the name.

Paige Dawson.

Owen glanced at me. His eyes shifted, just a little.

He didn’t decline the call. He answered and put it on speaker.

That was his move. Total transparency to prove he had nothing to hide.

“Mr. Harper…”

The girl’s voice came through, shaky, like she’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” Owen’s voice went tight immediately.

“My… my roommate locked me out.”

Paige’s voice trembled hard, with rain roaring in the background.

“I was in the shower and I realized I didn’t bring a towel, so I just wrapped one around me and came out. Then the wind blew the door shut.”

“My keys and phone are still inside. I’m calling from the little store downstairs, the owner’s letting me use his phone.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Harper. I didn’t know who else to call.”

Owen shot to his feet. 　　“Stay in the store. Don’t go anywhere!”

He couldn’t hide the panic in his voice. 　　“I’m coming.”

He hung up and went for his jacket on the hook. 　　“Nora, Paige ran into some trouble. I have to go.”

He was pulling his jacket on as he talked to me.

I leaned against the headboard and watched him.

“It’s still pouring out there.”

“I know.”

“I have a fever.”

Owen stopped, mid-motion.

He walked back to the bed and touched my cheek.

“You already took your medicine. Just sleep it off. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“She’s outside in just a towel. If I don’t go, something could happen to her.”

His voice was full of this righteous sense of duty.

“Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I handle it.”

Then he turned and walked out of the bedroom.

The front door slammed shut.

I looked at the tea still steaming on the nightstand.

Then at the spot where he’d been standing.

The air still seemed to hold the red glow of the timer as it jumped. [120 days 8 hours 15 minutes]

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll wait.”