Silence was never a good sign when you used the L-word. Owen knew that. He had it happen to him once, in high school, with Lizzie Tyler. The silence had ended in complete and total rejection. Owen had also been on the other side of it. Twice. No, three times. Okay, twice. The third time he had laughed, because he was an asshole. Owen liked to think he had matured since the young, moronic age of twenty two.
He didn't push her, or shift uncomfortably in his seat, because he could see her brain working. Obviously he had surprised her, but Owen had to figure she knew on some level. It was just something they hadn't acknowledged until now. Then again, maybe she didn't know, and he had just all but punched her in the gut and now she was trying to figure out a way to let him down gently. That was okay too.
Mercifully, the silence ended and Owen felt some of the tension building in his shoulders ease when Cecilia returned the sentiment. That was something, even if the rest of what she said was akin to a "I love you too, but..." He said nothing, but absorbed her words, thinking them over in his head. The situation felt fragile, and Owen was the only one capable of completely shattering it if he said the wrong thing. The problem was, he didn't have the right words either.
Owen peered at Cecilia thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. "I went numb after Lucia died. Nothing, no one got through. Not my family, or my wife. So I lost her too. I coped by getting drunk, and fucking nameless women, and losing my job. But I didn't care. I felt nothing and every day became a blur. I was okay with that, because I didn't have to face anything that hurt me." Owen continued, his eyes on her. "I'm not expecting anything from you, Cecilia. I don't want you to feel like this means we have to be anything more than we are. I'm not expecting for you to forget what you went through, or for me to forget my baggage. I'm not expecting sex, or public displays of affection. Or hell, private displays of affection. I just don't feel like it's worth ignoring anymore. I hate this place. I hate everything about this place. Except for you. I would rather be here, with you, and feel this, than be back home where I was barely living at all before. Shit, I know how trite that sounds. I'm not a writer. But I can't express it any better than that. I just needed you to know."