Author's Note: This is officially AU. I'll admit that I haven't watched Degrassi in a while and for a time; I lost any inspiration that I had for writing. I got it back and I hope that those who are following this are not too disappointed with the fact that this will not exactly follow the current progression of the show.
Chapter Twelve
Day One Thousand Two Hundred Twenty-Nine
Owen had never been the type of man that could boast long monogamous relationships. In fact, discounting whatever it was that he had with Anya back in high school, he could only remember being committed to two other women for longer than a month or two. Even then, he could never imagine in his wildest dreams of continuing the relationships further than the third month.
That was until Clare Edwards happened to waltz her way back into his life.
For the first time, he was looking forward to his future and found that there were odd moments where he was actually planning for it. There were moments when his mind would drift and he could imagine them not only taking the long walk down the aisle but living together as man and wife as well. Some nights, when the dreams were so vivid that he could almost mistake them for reality, he could hear the sounds of children laughing and feel the pressure of tiny hands against his palms.
And a few times, when he teetered on the line between the dream and waking worlds, he could envision them perfectly. Two little girls who were barely a year apart—one with his dark hair and her crystal blue eyes and the other with his darker blues and her cinnamon hair—who had the same cherubic faces that their mother sported at their age. The older one would be a tomboy and daddy's girl, tagging along as her father taught her the finer points of fixing an engine and making a goal when there was less than thirty seconds on the clock. She would be the terror of the family just as he was while her younger sister would be the angel, an almost replica of the mother she looked so much like. But both would be the darlings of their grandparents' lives, spoiled by the three sets like no other grandchild had been before.
It was amazing how much a life could change when the right person impacted it. And he was finding more every day that Clare Edwards was very much that right person. He was also finding that if anyone were to ask, he could announce with astounding certainty that he was actually enjoying the journey that they were on and he no longer was haunted by the what ifs and the might have been that had hung over his head like a dark cloud for so many years.
A soft moan that could be mistaken for a snore by those who would never know better sounded beside him and Owen looked down at the woman in question sprawled out beside him. The shorn locks that she complained about often because of the trouble she had controlling the wild mass of curls shielded her face from his view but he knew that her closed eyes would flutter every so often and her nose would crinkle as she dreamed. One hand clutched her pillow, the other curled under her chin and when she shifted, the comforter slipped down a few inches to reveal the black lace encompassing the top of her nightgown.
The same nightgown that she refused to remove the night before because they were in his parents' house and sleeping in his boyhood bedroom, no matter how many different tactics he used to get her to change her mind. I don't care how many times you give me the sad puppy dog eyes, Owen Milligan; I'm not changing my mind on this. Do you know how creepy it would be if they were to hear us and then have to have breakfast with us in the morning? I'm a bit grossed out just thinking about it, she had told him after what seemed like the millionth time of pleading his case.
The fact that she refused to do what so many other girls he had known would have done actually made her more attractive to him instead of less, giving him just another reason as to why he knew that she was meant for his future. A future that he had contemplated and ultimately decided to begin before this holiday was over as evidenced by the small gift-wrapped box he had placed on the nightstand beside him in wait.
He only hoped that she had the same idea for the future as he did.
Another moan escaped her lips and her body shifted again. This time when he glanced at her face, the curly locks that had acted as a mask had been pushed back and her eyes were open and staring up at him. She lethargically raised herself up to a sitting position, using a combination of his body and the headboard to keep from falling back into the warm comfort of the mattress.
"Merry Christmas," she whispered, sleep still clinging to her voice as she leaned the rest of the way up to deliver a brief kiss on his cheek. Three months into their relationship and she still refused to make any more contact than that until she had visited the bathroom and eradicated the dreaded morning breath. Another neurotic trait that should have put him off but only solidified his opinion on what his future held. "How come you're up so early?"
"My mom and Tristan are obsessed with Christmas morning. Growing up, Dad and I never got to sleep past eight before one or both of them would be waking us up. Mom would wake us for some huge breakfast she'd proudly concocted, even though it was hardly edible, and Tristan always wanted to see what Santa brought," Owen explained. "I guess I just got used to waking up at dawn even when they no longer did. Even when the family festivities ran their course and we all started spending the holidays doing our own thing, I would wake up from anticipating their early morning wake up call."
"That's actually pretty sweet."
She scooted her body closer to his until she resting mostly against him and he wrapped his arm around her while simultaneously pulling the blanket farther up their bodies. Yeah, he could definitely see waking up like this every day as a great possibility for his life.
"So," she began, taking his hand and entwining their fingers. "Speaking of Tristan, I thought Jason was a pretty good guy. And I know this is the first time you've met him officially despite the fact that they've been together for years. So, what did you think of him?"
"I think he loves my brother and that's all I can ask for," Owen replied. While it would never be completely comfortable for him to discuss his brother's love life, it had gotten easier for him to do so over the years. Owen still wasn't exactly thrilled to have a gay brother but he had grown more accepting of his sibling's sexual orientation over the years and not just because he had to. It also helped that Clare was there to lend an ear, support them both equally and elbow him in the gut whenever he said something that could be misconstrued as crossing the line. "I mean, he isn't the type of guy that my brother usually went for but I think that that's a good thing."
Clare's lips quirked up in a slight grin. "You mean Tristan wasn't usually the one to go for the Emo-type who sports more body art than the local museum? I am positively shocked."
He tickled her side, causing her to squirm and bat this hand away. "You're funny. But no, my brother has always liked jocks."
"I get that. Jocks are pretty damn sexy." She leaned up to kiss him again, closer to his lips this time, and he was tempted to tilt his head enough to make contact complete and lasting. "So, you really like him?"
"Despite the tattoos, I think the guy is the best match my brother's made so far. I can tell my dad thinks so too and he's the harder of my parents to convince."
"Always trying to protect his family just like his oldest son," Clare murmured. She moved her body until she was straddling his lap, her arms around his neck and her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Have I told you lately how happy I am? Not just because you brought me home to meet your parents this week but because you didn't turn me away when I showed up out of the blue in August. I really wouldn't have blamed you if you had."
His hands drifted up to rest on either side of her waist and began to mindlessly move them up and down. "If I had then I wouldn't have one of the smartest, sexiest, not to mention sweetest, women sitting in my lap right now. You know, my family loves you so much that they might disown me if we were to ever break up. In fact, I know Tristan would cast me aside if it meant he got to keep you."
"That would be an interesting custody battle to bring before a judge. I guess it's a good thing that I don't see our break up happening any time soon."
Owen leaned forward, successfully breaking her no kissing before teeth brushing rule as he rested his lips against hers and smiled when he heard her utter a small noise of contentment. When she pulled back, it was all he could do to permanently capture the look of joy in his mind's eye. "Clare, you know I love you, right?"
She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Yeah…and you know I love you too."
He reached over to the nightstand for the box that had been sitting there since just moments after he was certain she was asleep. "We don't usually open presents until after Mom makes breakfast but I wanted to give you this early. You know, while we were still in the privacy of my bedroom."
"Owen—"
"Clare, just open it before I lose my nerve."
She nodded, taking the box in her hand and carefully peeling away the silver wrapping paper. Once finished, she lifted the lid of the white box usually reserved for jewelry to find something much more valuable than any necklace or bracelet could ever hope to be. "Owen, is this—"
"I know you've dealing with a lot with the new job and having to stay with your parents. And I know that our relationship is still relatively new and the amount of time it takes you decide on a pair of shoes is longer than the amount of time we've officially been together. But I'd still really like to have you with me in my apartment in the New Year, calling my home yours, and waking up just like this every morning," Owen proposed.
Her eyes darted from the key in the box to his face and back again. Her mouth open and closed numerous times but no sound escaped. He had envisioned this moment many times in his mind, pictured her shouts of joy and throwing herself at him. Maybe there would be happy tears involved and her running off to call everybody they knew about the news.
What he hadn't expected was her lack of a reaction. Or the ache that moved to wrap around his heart because of it.
"Look, I know you deserve more than a high school teacher slash coach. I'll probably never afford to give you expensive gifts or take you on some exotic vacation just because we both have a week off. You deserve to have all that and more. The thing though is that I'm selfish. I should let you find someone who can give you all of those things but I won't because I want you for myself," he said in a rush of words that tumbled from his mouth before his brain could catch up.
And his rush of words made him feel like the biggest jack ass in the world because tears were currently streaming down her face. He expected her to leap up from the bed, pack her things and tell him their entire relationship was over because everything he had just said was everything that she had been thinking. He was prepared to spend the rest of the week at his parents alone and miserable as a precursor to what the following year would be like.
What he didn't expect was what happened next.
Looking at a miniscule Clare Edwards, one would never believe that the woman knew how to punch and that she could leave a mark. Which is what she did when she landed a solid hit in his chest that he knew would be sore for days. Not two seconds after hitting him, she wrapped her arms around his neck again and pulled him so tight against her that not even tissue paper could fit between them. And with a grin that contrasted completely with the tears still falling down her cheeks, she pressed her lips against his in a kiss that was filled with saltiness and something else he couldn't quite place.
"You're an idiot sometimes," she breathed when she pulled back. "A certifiable idiot who should learn to let a girl talk before he puts his foot in his mouth."
"What?"
"I don't care that you're just a high school teacher slash coach. I wouldn't care if you were some big hockey star or the guy who picks up our garbage. And while it'd be nice to vacation in some exotic locale, I'm never going to stress about not being able to go. I love you, Owen Milligan. Not because of what you do or what you can give me but because of who you are," Clare replied, the force of her words easing the ache around his heart and bringing about a rush of emotions he could hardly name.
"And who exactly am I?"
The grin on her face grew wider. "You are the guy who protects his family with everything in him because that's what he learned to do from his father. You are the guy who not only became civil with a woman you couldn't care less for but became best friends with because she means the world to me. You are the guy who told me on a cold February day that you refused to sleep with me until I realized what you already had: that we are perfect together.
"You're the guy who can sit and listen to me talk for hours on end about every little thing and actually wants to hear about my day. You're the guy who doesn't need to even say a word to make me feel protected and comforted all at the same time. You are the last thing I think about before I go to bed and the first thing that crosses my mind when I wake up. You accept every little neurotic tendency I have and you try not to show just how amusing you find some of them. And you love my family which is…well, nobody I've ever been with has actually even liked my family."
They shared a chuckle at that before Clare continued. "You think you're selfish because you refuse to let me find someone who can give all those superficial things you mentioned? Well, I'm even more selfish because I choose to keep the best man on this planet all to myself."
"Wait, does that mean what I think it means?"
Clare nodded, sniffling a bit. "It means that you're going to have to pry this key from my cold dead hands if you ever want it back."
Owen let out a cheer and flipped their bodies so she was lying underneath him. Smothering her laughing face with kisses, he used his thumbs to wipe away the tear tracks on her cheeks. He never knew that a woman could bring this much happiness to his life and thanked every star in the sky that the universe had deigned him fit to bring this one into his life.
But after they were finished celebrating and both were dressing for the day before either of the Milligan early risers could barge in on them, a thought passed through his mind. He realized in their grand speeches, he had mentioned something but she had never addressed it.
"Uh, Clare?" he ventured as she was zipping up the boots that were a present from Alli. "You never said anything about not caring about expensive gifts."
The smile on her face did not make him feel any better. Nor did he feel better when she placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him softly. If she was trying to reassure him, she was doing a piss poor job of it.
"I'll make you a deal," she said. "I only want one thing from you that costs more than a bouquet of roses."
"And what is that?"
"When the time comes, you'll figure it out."
He would have figured it out then if his brother hadn't chosen that moment to announce that breakfast was on the table, causing the end of their conversation to be conveniently forgotten.
- O – C –
Day One Thousand Two Hundred Eighty
There had never been a Valentine's Day that he had never been without a date. There had been blondes, brunettes and the occasional redhead over the years. Some had been blind dates set up by friends and family while others had been women that he was in short-term relationships with that ended not long after the auspicious holiday. All were eager to spend the day with someone, even if that person was not the one, if it meant that they didn't have to be alone and he never had to put effort into planning the actual dates. And the fact that they were just satisfied to have dinner as a couple instead of being single suited him just fine because it was not as though he ever had the desire to actually plan anything special.
No desire to make any holiday special for any woman until he involved himself with a cinnamon haired woman with eyes the color of a glacier in the arctic. That sudden desire had him planning the day for the last two weeks, from where they would have dinner to the perfect gift he could obtain on a teacher's salary to making the after dinner activity they would partake in extra special. It was odd giving so much care and thought into something that he had disregarded as just another day for so long but it was just another thing to add to list of reasons he was become a big softie like Alli like to call him now.
Their day had begun with breakfast in bed which had been a task since it called for him sneaking out of their bed at five in the morning without her noticing. The last thing he wanted to do on a drizzly Saturday morning was leave the warm cocoon that was their bed earlier than he ever had to and a sleepy Clare just waking from the dream world had quickly become his favorite sight. But he had wanted to set the tone for the day by visiting her favorite café and choosing some of her favorite pastries that always seemed to be sold out whenever she stopped by the establishment. He also needed to swing by Alli's apartment to pick up the gift that both she and Clare's mother had helped him decide on.
After a stop at the café and flower stand, he successfully delivered the breakfast to his girlfriend who was just waking up when he found the truth in the saying his grandmother used to recite at regular intervals. Man plans and God laughs had never been truer of a statement when Clare informed him she had to meet a client for lunch just after the last crumb was consumed. And while he wanted nothing more than to inform her that he planned an entire day of pampering for them at a local spa that she had been talking nonstop about since it opened the month before, he knew that he had to grin and accept that it was a lunch she could not just reschedule. After all, working freelance was often a hit or miss career and keeping clients happy kept the paychecks coming in.
One steamy make out session leading to a shared shower later, Clare was dressed in her casual business attire that consisted of a pair of khaki slacks and a light pink buttoned-down shirt. With her hair straightened and cosmetics lightly applied, she gave him a swift kiss on the cheek as he went over his playbook at the kitchen table and promised to be back as early as possible as she flew out the door with her messenger bag swinging against her hip.
Since he knew that early would be after their dinner reservations began, he set about making the necessary calls to schedule their appointment at the spa for another weekend and canceling with the Italian restaurant that had almost been completely booked when he first called two weeks before. He assured both the receptionist at the spa and the hostess at the restaurant multiple times that he had not been dumped in any way, shape or form and that he was still happily committed but as he ended the calls with more apologies than he had ever uttered, he knew that neither believed him with the pity coloring their voices.
Now he had to figure out a new plan for their evening and one that was not time sensitive. He quickly called Helen to find out what her daughter's favorite home-cooked meal was, writing down the simple ingredients and instructions on an empty page of the playbook. After ascertaining that it would be a task he could accomplish without too much effort, he tore the page out and tucked it along with his wallet in his back pocket, grabbed his keys and headed out of the apartment.
He was still on a mission to make this holiday special for both of them despite the fact that all his original planning had been shot to hell. In his mind, Clare Edwards was special and that made her worth all the added trouble it was taking to show her just how he felt about her. However, it was after the stop at the market and when he stopped at the florist to pick up his order that he discovered all this effort might not even be worth it. And why he should have stuck to his usual philosophy of doing nothing special on what was deemed to be one of the most special days of the year.
Because in the coffee shop across the street from the florist was his girlfriend, laughing at whatever her companion was saying. It wouldn't have bothered him since he knew she was with her new client but then the waitress moved and he could feel his heart literally jump into his throat. Because sitting across from the woman who encompassed his entire future was her past.
It was her past in the form of a dark-haired, green-eyed man by the name of Elijah Goldsworthy.
This was why he was sitting in a darkened apartment instead of a candlelit restaurant hours later, drinking his way through a six pack instead of an expensive bottle of champagne, his mind running through every scenario both plausible and not while alternating between swearing to end their relationship and doing anything possible to keep her with him. This was why, by the time he heard her key turn in the lock and saw her push through the door, he had decided in his drunken stupor that he would do everything in his power to not interrupt as she pleaded her case and he would only beg a little for her to stay if she wanted to leave him. After all, no matter how much he loved her, it was never worth it to keep someone who did not want to be kept.
Owen saw her jump slightly when her eyes landed on his form on the couch and heard the barely audible gasp that she had let loose. "Owen, what are you doing in the dark?" Clare asked, flipping the switch to the table lamp and allowing yellowish light to flood the room. She glanced down at the empty beer cans that littered the coffee table and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Obviously, this was not how she pictured her Valentine's Day going for either of them. "I'm sorry I'm so late but I—"
"I saw you earlier," he broke in, cringing at the raspy quality of his voice. It was a sign of weakness and Owen Milligan did not do weakness. But Clare always did seem to bring out both the worse and best qualities out in him.
"Earlier?"
"At the coffee shop, across from the shop that carries those flowers you like."
"If you saw me, why didn't you just come over and say hi?"
His fist clenched, causing him to crush his half empty beer can and, in doing so, causing a stream of amber liquid to dribble down his hand and onto the couch cushions. "I didn't want to ruin the happy reunion. How is Goldsworthy, by the way?"
Owen knew the exact moment realization dawned on her face. And he could tell that the guard she kept lowered around him was slowly being raised as though she knew where the conversation was headed. "He's fine. A little surprised to find out that we were not only together but living together but good, overall," she replied.
He scoffed derisively. "I'm sure. It's always surprising when the girl you want back is madly in love with a guy you hate. Tell me, how long did it take before you informed him you were no longer single? It must have been a while because you two looked mighty cozy when I saw you together."
Her blue eyes flashed dangerously as Clare crossed her arms over chest. "Okay, first of all, Eli doesn't hate you. He hates who you were in high school. Secondly, Eli is still married so my being single, committed or casually dating was never going to be an issue. Even if he wasn't married, it would still not have been an issue because we both recognized long ago the fact that the two of us together is like taking a flame to a can of gasoline. And third, you big dumbass, we looked cozy because I was going over his manuscript. A manuscript he had hired me to go over because it's the first thing he's written since his last novel was skewered by critics."
Clare was right. He was a dumbass. "That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me all of this when you told me about the job this morning," he grumbled.
"I didn't tell you because silly me thought that you might fly off the handle if you knew that it was my ex-boyfriend I was meeting. He had just called last night to let me know that he was in town and wanted to meet for a few hours so I could take a look at the beginning of his next novel. I didn't even know if I was going to do the job and I didn't want to start a fight that didn't need to happen. Guess I should have remembered that I'm in a relationship with a Neanderthal who can't seem to trust me even though I'm good enough to have sex with," Clare answered, her tone biting and cutting him to the core.
And with each cutting remark, he felt the need to strike back. "But why did it have to be you? There is any number of editors in this city and any one of them would be a bet—" he stopped himself but the damage was done.
"A better choice than someone who edits articles for publications that happen to be smaller than most high school newspapers, right? That was what you were going to say, right? I mean, who would have someone as inexperienced as me edit something as important as a novel and one who could make or break their career for that matter? They must want more from me than the expertise that a four year degree and six months as a contracted features editor allows. Because how could anyone ever expect little Clare Edwards to be some kind of professional? There must be an ulterior motive, especially if I have some kind of history with the person requiring my services," she said hotly.
"Clare, I'm sorry."
Clare laughed. "You're sorry? You don't even get it, do you? All you can focus on is that he's my ex-boyfriend and that we have a shared past. Do you even understand what this could do for his career? For my career? This novel marks his transition from reclusive indie publications to the mainstream and if it's successful, I will be known as the one who helped him do it. And it's because of the shared past that bothers you so fucking much that will allow me to help him because I was there in the very beginning when everything he wrote was so raw that I literally feared his talent."
Owen stood, walking over and placing his hands on her shoulders. "And it doesn't matter if it bothers me that my girlfriend is spending the majority of her time with her ex? I know what can happen when two people who have history spend extraordinary amounts of time together. What if he decides that you're worth giving up his marriage for? What if you decide the same? I can't lose you, Clare, but I can't spend my life wondering just when you might decide that he fits in your life better than I do."
"And I can't spend my life with someone who doesn't trust me or in the love I have for him." She shrugged his hands off of her body. "I'm going to go stay with my mom and Glenn for a while. Hopefully, we'll be able to figure this out. In the meantime, I want you to know that I am going to work with Eli because this is the opportunity I've been waiting for."
She turned, walked to the door and turned with her hand on the knob. "I do love you, Owen, so much. I just think that we rushed the next step in our relationship. I'll be back tomorrow to pack up some of my things. Happy Valentine's Day, Owen, make sure you take an aspirin before you go to sleep so you don't have a hangover."
He watched her slip out the door and he was reminded again why he never should have made an effort on a holiday he had never given much credence to before.
To Be Continued...