I hate that I can’t control the excitement I feel when my phone chimes with a text from Oliver. He hurt me, and my heart has that painful memory, but my body didn’t get the memo.
Oliver: How are you feeling today?
Me: Fabulous, LOL, you?
Oliver: Like someone tried to murder me in my own home.
Me: You probably deserved it.
Oliver: I did.
Me: Contemplating the trip home tomorrow. Would it be weird if I crawled at the train station?
Oliver: Not in Boston, but maybe in Hartford.
Me: Wondering what I’ll tell my parents?
Oliver: May I suggest the truth? Lies can be BAD news!
Me: Point taken :(
Oliver: Why don’t you take my car?
Me: I couldn’t. What if something happened to it?
Oliver: It’s insured … like everything in my house was.
Me: Low blow.
Oliver: Sorry. I think I’m the one that broke the only irreplaceable thing that day.
Me: ?
Oliver: Us.
I exit the message screen and toss my phone aside. Where the hell am I? I love him. I hate him. I want to have some self-respect, to stay angry at him, but he lost a child. He has some serious emotional issues and he’s still married. Do I sever all ties with him? Can we be friends or neighbors? Then there is the burning question—why is he divorcing his wife? She lost her baby. I’d probably go insane too. It doesn’t make sense.
Chapter Twenty-One
Naked Boots
Oliver
Key. Lock. Door.
I still can’t open my eyes, but I slide inside the room and collapse down the wall hugging my knees to my chest. The sweat surfaces in an instant. Heart racing, body shaking, the memories still cut too deep. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t now. I just hate her so much.
With each labored breath, I squeeze my eyes shut tighter until all I see is Vivian. Her innocent smile and those loving eyes looking up at me like I’m the reason they dance with life. My life, they dance with my life, and without them I’m not sure I can feel alive. My pulse evens out and I relax my eyes, cracking them just enough to see the blurry white outline. I can’t. Fumbling for the door knob, I fight to get out of the room. I can’t breathe. There’s no oxygen in here … no life.
I need a life again. I need Vivian.
Me: I’ll “pick you up” at 8 a.m., we’ll stop for donuts and coffee on the way to your parents’ house.
Vivian: ?? Not taking you to meet my parents.
Me: Why not?
Vivian: Um … because they’ll wonder why I’m bringing my married neighbor home with me.
Me: Tell them because he’s crazy-wild-beyond all words in love with you. AND he’ll do ANYTHING to prove it!
Me: Vivian?
Nothing.
I expect a response, at least a “screw you” or something. There’s a knock at my door. Something!
“Prove it.” Vivian stands with her weight shifted to the outer edges of her bandaged feet and slippers.
“How?” I try to contain my grin because her lips are tilted into a frown and her eyes are tensed into a challenging scowl.
“Carry me upstairs.”
My dick hardens. I may be banged up a bit, but this I can do. I’ll go all night if that’s what it takes. Dear God, I hope that’s what it takes. I scoop her up in my arms and kick the door shut. Bending down, I try to kiss her but she turns away.
“Not yet.”
She’s playing hard to get, making me work for it. Challenge accepted.
“Stop,” she says before we get to the bedroom. “Put me down.”
I ease her to her feet and she hobbles back a few steps. “Prove it.”
I hope she’s asking me to fuck her against the door and not open it, but the nauseating sensation in my stomach tells me I’m not that lucky.
“It’s all or nothing, Oli. You said anything. No take backs?”
Am I ready for this? No. Can I let her go? No.
I suck in a deep breath and release it with a slow nod. “No take backs.” I lift the cobalt vase and dump out the key. Sticking it in the lock, I pause before turning it. The thought of opening it paralyzes me as much as the thought of losing her. “Can I ask you for a favor?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. I’m pushing my luck. “What?”
I rest my forehead against the door and close my eyes. “You go in, but when you come out we don’t talk about it until we get back from your parents’ house this weekend.”
“Why?”
“Just … please, Vivian.” I hate the desperate sound of my voice, but that’s what I am. Right now I’m so desperate.
Her hand rests on my back. “Okay.”
I sigh and turn the lock, but I don’t open the door. “Take your time. I’ll be waiting out here.”
She furrows her brow as I step back and move to the side so I can’t see in the room when she opens the door. Her hand turns the knob with painful slowness, like she’s fisting my heart, squeezing it unbearably tight. I close my eyes and lean back against the wall as she steps inside and closes the door.
There’s a good chance she comes out and says “no fucking way” then leaves my ass. I’m a normal guy in every aspect of my life except this room. A teddy bear or Barbie fetish would probably be easier to handle than this. I’ve never chewed my nails, but right now I’m biting the hell out of them. How long has she been in there? What is she doing or thinking? There is a window; it’s possible she’s halfway to Hartford by now.
The door opens rescuing me from my thoughts or maybe torturing me with the anticipation of her reaction. I’m not sure which yet.
Shit! She’s been crying. A sad smile pulls at her beautiful lips and she sniffles. “So 8 a.m. tomorrow?”
I nod once.
She holds out her arms. My wrinkled forehead isn’t doing a good job of hiding my confusion. “Carry me downstairs.”
My dick, that decided to take a nap when she chose door number one, perks up. My brain sends the silent message that he will not be needed at the moment. I feel his disappointment, I really do, but this was a small victory and I have to believe our patience will pay off … eventually.
“This is good.”
I stop at the door. “I’ll carry you across the street.
“Nope, I need to practice walking, even if it does still hurt.”