“I’m sorry, I wanted to surprise you. I should have called and told you before I came home.”
Her eyes fall to the sink. She spits and tosses her toothbrush in the cup.
“Okay, I’ll just see you later then.” She squeezes past me without making eye contact.
I grab her arm. “Vivian …”
She yanks it from my grip. “No, it’s fine. Maybe we can go someplace nice for dinner or something. I have to go. We’ll talk later.”
I chase her down the stairs. “Vivian, wait!” I push the front door closed just as she opens it. “Don’t, please don’t do this.”
Her forehead thumps against the door and her sobs fill the air.
“I’m so sorry.” I turn her around and pull her into my arms. She doesn’t hug me back. Instead, she keeps her hands over her face.
My anger inside is fueled by her tears. Caroline is a lost cause and maybe I am too. I’m so fucking confused.
“I’m s-sorry.” She pulls away and shakes her head while wiping away her tears. “You don’t need this.”
I turn and take a few steps away with my hands planted on my hips. “Dammit! Stop apologizing. This is not your fault. This is me all me! My fucked-up life is sucking everything out of you. I wish…” I look to the ceiling, releasing an exasperated breath “…I wish I could just let go.”
She sucks in her quivering lower lip and swallows hard. “I have to go.”
My head falls, shoulders slump, and the door bangs shut.
Vivian
In the off-season The Green Pot closes at noon on Saturdays. Most days Maggie and I stay until one cleaning up and chatting. Today I don’t feel chatty.
“Spill it, Viv.”
“Spill what?” I ask, carrying in the mums from the sidewalk.
“You showed up late this morning with puffy eyes and you’ve been sulking ever since.”
“Oliver’s back.”
“Sweetie, that’s great … isn’t it?”
“He’s leaving again tomorrow.”
She stamps the back of the checks. “Well, at least he came for a visit, right?”
I frown. “He came back to get some stuff. The visit part is just a perk, if you can call it that.”
“He came back to see you, Viv. There’s nothing he forgot that he can’t pick up in Portland, except you.”
“You think so?”
She crooks her finger at me. I mope over to her.
“Come here.” She hugs me. “I know so. He loves you and being away from you has to be killing him. Besides, I’ve been so proud of you the past couple of months. You’re doing great in school, you still find time to help me out, and until today, I haven’t seen you be anything short of your jovial self.”
I step back and tug at my lower lip with a grimace. “Yeah, well it’s sort of been an act. I’m pretty driven so the school and work part has been easy, the jovial part … not so much. Honestly, I’ve been miserable on the inside. Life without Oliver is dull and lifeless. I shine when he’s here. I feel confident by his side and beautiful in his eyes.” I laugh. “I know it sounds so pathetic. I shouldn’t need a man to have that.”
“You’re right, you don’t need a man, Vivian. But life sure is a lot more fun with them.”
We both laugh.
“Thanks, Maggie. You’re the pep-talk queen.”
“Rosenberg,” I call, opening the front door. I look up as Oliver walks down the stairs holding him. Rosenberg barks and runs to me after Oliver sets him down.
“Hey,” he says with a sad, I-know-I’ve-hurt-you smile.
“Hey.” I pick up Rosenberg.
“Are we on for dinner at my parents’ tonight?”
“Yeah, whatever you want.” I slip off my shoes and go into the kitchen for a drink.
“Are you mad?”
I draw in a breath and hold it while my brain formulates the politically correct answer. “No, I’m not mad.”
Yes, I’m mad and I’m not sure why or even who I’m mad at. Oliver, for having a past? Myself for falling in love with him? Caroline? Her parents?
“Don’t lie. I know you’re mad.”
I set Rosenberg down and shake my head. Men are idiots; I swear it’s as much a part of the Y chromosome as their penis.
“Well if you know I’m mad, then why ask?” Sarcasm drenches every word.
“What do you want me to do?” He shoves his hands in his pockets.
I grab a glass and fill it with water. “I want you to do whatever it is you need to do, and I can’t tell you what that is because I don’t know.” I take a sip of water. “Talk to your mom or get help from someone else. Stay in Portland until Caroline gets better—”
“She won’t get better.”
“Then stay there until your in-laws are happy or until you can find closure! I don’t know, Oli!” I slam the glass down on the counter.
His brows tense. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I have some studying to do before we leave later.” I walk past him to the stairs with my little lamb, Rosenberg, following me, Oliver too.
I walk toward our closet to change my clothes. The hanging bags on the bed catch my attention. They’re not zipped up yet so I can see Oliver’s suits and dress shirts in them. Near the foot of the bed are his ties and dress shoes. “You going to church in Portland?”
“Work.”
I stop just inside the closet and turn toward him. “Work?”
“The firm where I used to work …”
I nod once.
“…one of the partners is going on maternity leave soon, and I’m going to help out. Make some money and find a way to occupy my time during the day since I can’t go see Caroline until later in the afternoon.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “How long will she be on maternity leave?”
“I’m not sure. She’s having twins so my guess is at least twelve weeks.”
Turning, I suck in a shaky breath which is incredibly hard to do since his confession just punched me in the gut. I pull off my T-shirt and push down my cargo pants.
“You’re so beautiful.” His voice is a breath away as his hands ghost down my arms.
I step away and grab a pair of jeans and a sweater. I dress with quick moves and turn to him. “I have to study.”
He eyes the entire length of my body and nods. His face goes slack as he rubs the back of his neck. Disappointment radiates from him. Join the club, is all I can think.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
For You
Pain breeds vulnerability and right now, as Oliver drives us to his parents’ house, I’m feeling unimaginable depths of both. There’s a wall of awkwardness between us that feels impenetrable. Neither one of us knows what to say or what to do. It’s as if we’re marking time in silence, waiting for yet another goodbye.
His words from this morning linger like poison—“I wish I could just let go.” Let go of what? Me?
Oliver shuts off the car and walks to my side. I get out before he reaches the door. He stops and sighs, as if my refusal to accept his chivalrous gesture is a slap in the face. Too bad.
He offers his hand—that I take. I’ll always take it, even when it wears a glove of heartache and pain.
Oliver stops before opening the front door and cups my face in his hands. “I choose you. I love you. No matter what happens you need to know that. If you don’t want me to go, then say the words and I’ll stay. It’s you I love, all that matters is you.”
I nod through the sincerity of his words. It’s never been a question of Oliver’s love for me. There’s no choice to be made. We claimed each other months ago—no take backs. I’m waiting for him to realize he’s more than the sum of the events of his past. I’m waiting for him to tattoo his scars with something beautiful and not be afraid to show it to the world. I want to give him what he gave me, but I don’t know how and it kills me.