The understatement of the millennium. “Go on.”
“She’s convinced that I need more closure with you before I’ll be ready to move on. She is adamant that until I understand my part in what went wrong between us, I can’t really embrace another relationship.”
Rachel sucked in a breath. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her past in front of her current squeeze, even though they had almost no likelihood of sharing a future. She’d love it if there were possibilities for her and Decker; last night had been incredible—everything she’d fantasized about and more. He was still something like a dream this morning. But real life wasn’t a fairy tale, and she wasn’t expecting happily ever after.
“Owen, I think we’ve said everything important between us.”
“No.” He swallowed. “Tell me . . . Was I truly insensitive to your feelings?”
What a catch-22. If she said no, Owen would know she was lying. If she said yes, it would spark an unpleasant discussion. Good gravy, sometimes she hated her pathological need to do the right thing.
“Yes. We discussed this at the end, if you’ll remember.”
“I didn’t understand. Explain it again.”
Rachel heaved a sigh. “You were always very absorbed with your work, Owen. Before I even left the room, you were already pondering atomic particles or quantum entanglement or whatever the project of the moment was. When I entered a room, most of the time, I wasn’t even sure you knew I was there.”
Owen inhaled stiffly. “Of course I knew. I’m sorry if you thought otherwise. Not everyone understands my work. But Carly does. She finds it as engrossing as I do.”
Then she ought to be a regular barrel of fun. “Great. Maybe you two have more in common than we did and—”
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Decker interrupted. “If Carly wants you to understand how you fucked up the first time, let me clue you in. You were self-absorbed, dumbass. Dude, it’s not always about you.” Decker scowled across the room at Owen. “You didn’t care if you gave Rachel pleasure or made her feel loved. You were more interested in your job than your wife, and that’s never going to make any woman with a drop of passion in her blood or an ounce of love in her heart happy.”
Owen sputtered angrily, then gaped at her with his face full of betrayal. “You’ve spoken to him about us?”
“You’ve spoken to Carly about our marriage,” she pointed out.
Adjusting his shirt, Owen stiffened righteously. “Yes, but we’ve been dating for some time now. We’re contemplating a future together. If I’m not mistaken, you can measure the time you’ve known this obnoxious lothario in hours. Rachel, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but he’s using you for sex. Then he’ll leave you. I thought you respected yourself more than to act like a . . . cheap floozy for someone like him.”
She reared back as if he’d slapped her in the face. In a way, he had. “I was thinking about experiencing all the orgasms I never got when I was married to you. And Decker might not have phrased it nicely, but he’s absolutely right. I didn’t feel valued, Owen. I don’t think you ever truly loved me. If you came here for advice, I’ll give it to you. Start by caring about something besides work. Romance is important. Sex is more than a bodily function. Don’t make her feel like an interruption or your dirty necessity. You did that to me all the time, you . . . jerk.”
The enormity of what she’d just said hit her. She gasped. Had that really just spewed from her mouth? Her mama had taught her that if she didn’t have anything nice to say, she shouldn’t say anything at all. But if he’d come here for the truth, why not give it to him? Clearly Decker was rubbing off on her . . .
“What she said,” he added with a proud smile.
“I’m speechless,” Owen admitted, looking stupefied. “I didn’t know you felt that strongly about frivolous things like flowers and intercourse. I married you because I thought you were far too sensible to care much for such inane things.”
“You didn’t ask. And honestly, you wouldn’t have cared how I felt, Owen. And I’ll tell you the truth. Carly probably cares about those things, too, because she’s a woman, not a robot. If you want to keep her, you need to figure out how to meet her halfway.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” he offered.
Too little, too late. Rachel sighed. “I know. It’s water under the bridge. I just hope you’re ready to be a better man and partner with Carly.”
Owen didn’t answer. He simply sat there, looking disoriented and lost in thought. Rachel had never seen that expression on his face. He was actually worried about losing Carly. The woman mattered to him.
Amazing. Maybe she should have been more honest with Owen while they were married. Instead, she’d done her best to be understanding. The minute he’d started taking her for granted, she should have said something. But the few times she’d tried, Owen hadn’t understood or hadn’t thought it important. His dismissive attitude, as if her feelings were nowhere nearly as important to him as subatomic particles traveling faster than the speed of light at CERN, had really hurt. In the grand scheme of the universe, of course his work was important. But at the time, she’d wondered why she hadn’t mattered, too. He’d been far too interested in chasing what Einstein had never been able to prove. In fact, when she’d said she wanted a divorce, his long sigh of irritation—with nary a word of protest—told her they were never meant to be. If she’d faced that sooner, she could have saved herself a few years and a lot of heartache.
“You’ve gotten what you came here for, pal. Thanks for stopping by.” Decker stood and rounded the coffee table to stand over Owen expectantly.
“I . . .” He looked at Rachel. “That’s so much to contemplate. You’re talking about changing the way I do everything, the way I approach life. Sex is actually important to women?”
“Yes, Owen. I know it’s a lot, but—”
“Look, this girl is either important to you or she isn’t,” Decker cut in. “If she is and you want to keep her, then use your head. There’s a reason she sent you to talk to Rachel. Women don’t usually want their man talking to an ex unless they’re at the end of their rope. And when did you get the stupid-ass idea that sex wasn’t important to women?”
Owen frowned, gaping. “I know it’s important to most men, but . . . I assumed women were less interested in such things.”
“The amount of pleasure you give her is a direct statement about how important she is to you, ass-hat. If you can’t make the effort to make her feel good when she’s yielding her time and body to you, then how can she feel valued?” Decker shook his head. “Didn’t you ever learn to kiss and sweet-talk girls in high school out of their bras and into their panties?”
A red flush swept up Owen’s face. “No. I let beer in college do that for me.”
Which probably explained why he’d kept a few bottles of good wine in the house when they’d been married and given her a glass or two when he’d been “in the mood.”
“Well, now you know that females like conversation with their orgasms. They like to feel special.” Decker dragged Owen to his feet, and her ex stood as if in a daze. “Try that with Carly. Ask her what she likes and listen. Put a smile on her face. And fucking call next time you’re thinking of dropping by to see Rachel.”
He managed to scoot her ex out of the room, down the hall, and out the front door without a protest from Owen. The way Decker had handled her ex had been nothing short of brilliant.
The second Decker shut the door behind Owen, he locked it and flashed her a sharkish grin.