Owen was dressed in cheap, bargain-bin clothes, his body stooped. Not only had his hair gone gray, but his eyes were also murky and timid.He stood at the restaurant entrance, gazing at me and Philip with jealousy and regret."Brooke," he called out to me hoarsely.The security guards wanted to escort him out, but I waved them off. I was curious to see what bullshit he'd try to feed me now.Owen walked up to me and, right in front of everyone, dropped to his knees with a thud."Brooke, I know I messed up. For six months now, I haven't stopped thinking about how good you were to me, your cooking, and the turtle cushion you made me."He pulled a filthy object from inside his coat.To my disbelief, it was the pink turtle cushion I had thrown away. He must've fished it out of some garbage dump somewhere. It was tattered and worn, yet he held it in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world."Brooke, I also found the protective charm. I sewed it back on—see, it's sti
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