“You’re not ugly...”
“I’m not...” she said, taking more of his kisses before she managed to pry herself off and slowly get dressed. He watched her, helping where he thought he should, until she stood before him as she was minutes earlier. Yet she looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. She embraced him and snuggled into his neck. “Thank you...” she whispered. “So much.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, rocking her gently. “Shall we be getting back?”
“I need you to make me a promise,” she whispered into his neck, continuing to kiss him there.
“I’ll get you through this, I swear. Don’t give up. You and me.”
“If I can’t give up, you can’t either. If I’m going to do my best to beat this thing, which is what I want to do, I need you to do something for me too.”
“What’s that?”
Tegan leant back and looked at him in the eyes. “Fight.”
It took him a moment to process what she had said, but he saw how serious she was. Her gaze was like steel. Iron clad and immovable.
“You’ve worked too hard to let that bastard carry on about you like that. I’m not going to let you throw everything you’ve wanted away out of loyalty to me. I’ll never understand fighting, Owen. I’ll never like it. But it’s who you are. Not what they say you are...” Tegan pressed her lips against his forehead. And placed his hand on her stomach. “I know you would’ve loved our baby. It would’ve had the best daddy in the world. But we can’t hold on to pain, sweetie...” she said as Owen sniffed away tears. “Never forget... but let it go...”
Owen got on his knees and pressed his forehead into her stomach, shaking with emotion, his eyes scrunched as he cried. He had never gotten closure with Tegan and what they had lost. She had just dismissed him. And although she thought she was doing the right thing, she hadn’t given him the chance to grieve with her. It wasn’t just her heartbreak. He wrapped his arms around her waist and mumbled the words “I’m sorry” over and over. It wasn’t his fault. They both knew it, and he wasn’t apologising in that sense. He was sorry there was nothing he could do to help her, to save their child. Now, she was being strong, for the both of them, in saying what needed to be said. Doing what needed to be done. She had already stepped up to the bridge so to speak. She was standing there, with her hand stretched out behind her, waiting for him to join her in crossing it.
In his mind, he knew what she wanted him to do. What he needed to do. He had to join her in saying goodbye and moving forward. He let out a breath and softly kissed her stomach and then stared at her for a few long seconds. He knew now what she meant. His fight and hers were not the same, but Tegan viewed them as such. They were both championships. His was the belt he had dreamed of since he was a boy. Hers was survival. She wanted them to inspire each other. She accepted him for who he was. He was a fighter. Right now, though, Owen could safely say she was the toughest fighter he had ever seen.
He then stood and let her clear his face. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“’Bout fuckin’ time...” Fiona’s harsh whisper to herself carried from outside the bathroom door where she had obviously been listening.
“Call me when you can,” Tegan smiled, kissing him just before he left the bathroom.
Fiona stood still, seeing them come out of the bathroom, and her eyebrows could not have gotten much higher.
“Oh. Hey, babe. Um...” Tegan looked from Fiona to Owen. “He was... we... um...”
Fiona looked as though she was trying not to laugh. “My house. I’m a snooper. Love me for what I am.”
Owen gave a mini smile, kissed Tegan’s cheek and headed out the front door. He pulled out his phone and dialled his father. “Hey mate, I need your help.”
“With what?”
“We need to call a press conference.”
“Uh... why?”
“I’m back.”
14
Owen walkedinto the same rented apartment he used whenever in Sydney. Where he made love to Tegan all those months ago. Where Robert sat waiting for him now, stone faced. “What’s going on? You sounded pissed off over the phone.”
“Sit down, son.”
Owen crossed his arms. “Nah, I’m good like this. What’s up? Is there trouble with the press conference?”
Robert sighed. “There isn’t a press conference, Owen. I didn’t call. Sit down, please.”
Owen reluctantly lowered himself to the nearest seat, waiting for Robert to speak. “Owen, you’re not thinking clearly.”
“I've talked it over with Tegan, and I'm going to fight Diaz.”