“Let me finish?” She motioned for me to sit back down, so I complied, narrowing my eyes and ready to usher her out of my office if she didn’t get to a point that didn’t feel like another rendition of the “enumerate Oliver’s failings” tune. “You’ve been sad for a long time, Oliver. But this seems totally different from what happened to you after your parents…” she trailed off.
“Died. Lied and then died.”
“Wait, what?” Pamela cocked her head to the side.
Did I really want to tell her everything? The only person I’d talked to about it was Holland. “They lied to me. My whole life.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was adopted. And they never bothered to tell me.”
Pamela actually shrugged, and I felt my anger spike. “Why would they tell you?”
“Why the fuck wouldn’t they tell me?” I couldn’t help raising my voice, but Pamela let it roll right off her.
Her voice was soft and her eyes held mine like she was looking for something inside me. “Why does it matter, Oliver?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. How could she not think it mattered? I couldn’t find any words to explain and didn’t want to lash out at Pamela. I remained silent.
“They loved you. They cared for you.” She watched my face and didn’t say anything else for a long minute. “They were your parents, Oliver. Even if you were adopted. People who adopt babies—they do it because they want them. Because they really, really want them. In some ways that’s so much better than just being born to parents who might end up hating you, or not caring. Or worse, parents who don’t even seem to notice you exist.” Pamela’s voice was quiet and I got the impression she might be talking about herself.
I felt suddenly guilty for believing I had a monopoly on pain. “I’m sorry,” was all I could manage.
We sat in silence for a long minute, both of us lost in our own thoughts. And then Pamela cleared her throat and sat up straighter. “I’m planning a shower for Holland,” she said. “I thought you might want to be involved.”
I raised an eyebrow at what felt like a suggestion more than an invitation. “Okay,” I said slowly. “Are you going to have it here?”
“With your approval.”
“Use the main conference room in this tower,” I told Pamela.
“Already booked.” She grinned at me. “I thought we’d cater in Shivago’s, but no sushi, soft cheese, or lunch meat. Pasta should be safe.”
“Good,” I said, nodding. “Get a ridiculous amount of the fried avocado spears, please.” I’d wanted to introduce Holland to Shivago’s fried avocado myself, but this would have to do.
“Sounds good. I’ve already ordered a cake from Boutineer’s across the street. It’ll have a tiny blue baseball uniform on it, and I drew a tiny version of the MLB device for them to put on there, too.” Pamela grinned as she described the cake.
My heart jumped in my chest. “Blue?”
Pamela grinned, nodding. “She’s having a boy.”
I had a sudden urge to bolt, to run. If I’d followed the impulse I had no doubt I’d have been at Holland’s side as soon as it was physically possible. We were having a boy…the news hit me like a truck. It was like a song that had been playing on endless loop that I couldn’t quite name, a song that I could suddenly identify. My baby. My son.
With a burst of certain clarity, I knew I needed to fix things. I knew it wouldn’t have been any different if Pamela had told me we were having a girl, and I hated that it had taken me this long to realize what I must have known all along. I would be in this baby’s life. I would be in Holland’s life. If she would let me.
“Oliver?”
“Perfect. That sounds good.” I was having difficulty concentrating.
“I’ve emailed the sales team, analytics, and development, and all the folks on this floor and Holland’s. Anyone I missed?”
“Sam in the coffeehouse.” I liked to include Sam, and had told him many times I’d give him a more substantial job if he ever wanted it. I secretly hoped his music career took off, though.
Pamela’s face lit up for the briefest of moments and then returned to normal. Her unwitting revelation distracted me from my own quickly turning mind, and I couldn’t help but push. “You know Sam, right? Tall blond-haired guy? Makes a mean cappuccino?”
“I know Sam,” she said, her face a mask again.
“And…?”
“There is no ‘and.’ We talk sometimes when I get coffee. He’s very nice.”
“A serious musician,” I added.
“I know.” The tiniest dreamy tone crept into her voice on those words, and I watched her, sure there was something going on between her and Sam. And if there wasn’t, I decided maybe there should be. “So,” Pamela said, clearing her throat to change the topic. “Next Friday afternoon, then. One o’clock.”
I nodded, imagining Holland at the head of the long table, glowing as she saw how many of her friends and coworkers had come to celebrate with her. Even pulling her image into my mind caused my body to react. I’d had a hard time seeing her around work lately because the impulse to push her into a closet and take her was almost overpowering. Pregnancy agreed with her, and every time I saw her, my dick went rogue. Her hair was thicker and shinier than I’d ever seen it before, the glossy waves brushing the tops of her incredible breasts as she moved. Her skin was lit with a luminance I’d never seen on another woman, and the curves that had taken over her body were completely insane. I wanted time to explore them, time to run my hands over every single inch of her incredible skin. I wanted to lie beside her and kiss every inch of her, feel the swell of her belly and make her understand how fucking beautiful she was. But she wasn’t mine now. And it was my own fault. And I was going to fix it.
“Oliver?” Pamela leaned forward, lifting an eyebrow as she met my gaze.
“Sorry. What?”
She shook her head. “I just asked if you’d be coming to the shower.”
“I’ll try,” I said, my voice weaker than I wanted it to be. I would have to fix things—there was no way I could be in the same room with Holland now, celebrating our baby, and be unable to touch her, to claim her.
“You know,” Pamela said as she stood. “Sometimes we’re ready for things when we don’t even think we are.”
“Don’t be obtuse,” I snapped. “What the hell are you saying?”
Pamela looked surprised, and her head pulled back as her eyes widened.
“Sorry,” I said. “What do you mean?”
“Just that maybe you underestimate yourself.”
I shook my head. “I’ve always had a pretty high opinion of myself, unfortunately.”
She shrugged. “You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.”
Chapter 26
Holland
Delia arrived at my office a half hour before the shower was slated to begin, and she found me staring into space from my seat behind my desk. I needed this pregnancy to be over. Combining soul-sucking heartbreak with zero sleep, too much ice cream, and feet that no longer fit into my favorite work shoes was a recipe for disaster.
“You excited?” she asked, walking into my office like the skinny, peppy person she was. I kind of hated her.
“Stop being so skinny.” I might have growled at her.
She gave me a frank look. “Uh-oh. Pissy Pregnant Lady is back.” I’d been less than chipper at our last dinner together.
“She’s come to stay.”
Delia plopped herself into the chair on the other side of the desk. “It gets better. You’ll be done before you know it.”
“The pregnancy part will get better,” I agreed darkly.
Her lips quirked up on one side and she sighed. “The heartbreak will get better, too. That one just takes longer.”
I dropped my eyes, watching my fingers trace circles on top of my desk. “I’m worried I won’t be able to be happy for the baby.”
“Holl.” Delia’s sympathetic
tone drew my eyes up. “Your heart is bigger and stronger than you know. Having kids changes it. I promise you’ll be perfect when the baby comes. You might still be sad, but he’ll never know. Your capacity for love will totally surprise you. I promise.”
I nodded, hoping she was right. I couldn’t imagine myself smiling again without a struggle. “Guess we better get this over with,” I said, pushing myself up out of my chair with a small groan.
“Come on, grandma.”
“I know! I’m like an old woman!”
“I remember feeling that way. It’ll be over soon.”
I stopped her as we walked toward my door, clutching her arm. “Delia, why does no one tell us about all this stuff?”
“What, pregnancy stuff?”
I nodded.
“ ’Cuz then no one would do it.”
“Deel. The farting.”
She laughed.
“And the heartburn…my God.”
“You just get to enjoy every meal twice! Make the most of it.”
I poked her in the side. “No thanks.”
“Have you taken a look at your…uh…parts?”
“I can’t even see my feet,” I told her as we moved toward the door again.
“You’ll need a mirror.”
“What? Why would I do that?”
“Actually, no, don’t. I still haven’t gotten over that shit.” Delia grinned at me.
“Now I’m kind of curious.”
“I swear, scarred for life. Though Carl thought it was cool for some reason.”
I glared at her. “More info than I need.”
We were actually laughing as we arrived at the shower, where people meandered around the main conference room, which was hung with streamers and decorated with blue and white balloons. An incredible cake sat in the center of the table, and Pamela was busily arranging packages at the back of the room.
“Hey!” she called, straightening up when she saw me.
She greeted Delia with a hug. “Thanks for all the help planning,” she said.
“My pleasure,” Delia said. “The food should be here any second.”
On cue, a man in a white apron appeared in the doorway pushing a cart full of boxes and bowls. An incredible smell of garlic and cheese wafted in behind him, and my mouth began to water.
As the food was set up, people began streaming in, and I found myself seated at the head of the long table, a plate of food in front of me and coworkers happily chatting on every side. I actually enjoyed getting to talk to some of the people I didn’t know very well, but with whom I’d worked in the last months on the MLB deal.
For a while it was noisy and festive, everyone eating and talking, dropping by the end of the table where I sat to wish me well and congratulate me. But soon, Pamela was standing next to my chair calling for everyone’s attention. It felt a bit awkward sitting while most people stood around the long conference table, filling the room so that I couldn’t even see everyone there, but my feet got tired and swollen if I stood for long.
“Can I have your attention?” Pamela asked the quieting group. “I just wanted to thank everyone for taking time to come! Holland, will you open your gifts?”
I stood, and I could feel the embarrassed heat climbing my neck. “Thank you, everyone,” I managed to say, looking around the room. “I honestly didn’t realize I knew this many people!” I saw the guys from the sales department, developers I’d been working with on the MLB technology, a few women I knew from the legal department who’d been taking care of ironing out contract details, and so many more faces I recognized. And as the room divided to allow people to pass the packages down the long table to me, I saw Oliver standing in the doorway. He wore a serious expression, the dark eyes locked on me as if maybe he was going to put a stop to this frivolous waste of company time. I froze, unsure what to do, before I recovered myself. His secretary had planned this. Surely he knew about it. For a fleeting moment I thought how strange it must be for him to see so many of his employees celebrating his baby while he stood on the periphery.
“This is really incredible,” I said, ripping my eyes from Oliver. He’d made his choice, and I’d tried to make my peace with it. I wasn’t going to allow his dark presence to shadow what was—so far—the nicest party anyone had ever given me. I began opening the first package Delia put into my hands—from two of my coworkers in analytics—when Oliver’s familiar voice rang out above the chatter. I smiled over the pack of onesies in my hand and thanked the gift givers in quiet tones, my eyes darting to Oliver.
“I hoped I might say just a couple words,” he began. Everyone in the room hushed and turned toward him. It wasn’t his style to grandstand, and many of them had probably never heard him address a crowd unless they’d been in a meeting with him. But he was doing a bang-up job, making eye contact with everyone in the room and even smiling. I ached to stand in the radiance of that smile again, but kept my place at the far end of the table, as far from him as the room would allow.
Oliver took another step into the room. “Holland O’Dell has been an asset to Cody Technology since the day she was hired here, almost two years ago, as a sales associate. It wasn’t the most fitting position for a woman who graduated top in her graduate program in applied statistics, but Holland didn’t let that stop her. She knew what she wanted to do. She had a plan, and nothing would stand in her way. Today, Ms. O’Dell is the head of our applied analytics department, spearheading the formal relationship between sales and analytics. Though she didn’t ask for this position, she highlighted a need for it and made it clear—in her pursuit of the MLB technology and relationship—that it was necessary. And based on her insight and understanding of both our sales and our technology, it was equally clear she was the best fit for the job.
“I couldn’t be happier than to be here today to help her celebrate another new position in her life—that of mother.”
Clapping erupted around the room, but quickly faded as Oliver continued.
“I also owe Ms. O’Dell a debt of gratitude on a personal level,” he said, and my heart rate accelerated for no discernible reason. What was he going to say? “I lost my parents recently, as most of you know. And I found myself in a pretty dark place until Holland shined a light in to show me a way out.”
Oliver’s voice had lowered, taken on a hoarser tone that felt more intimate, and for a minute it felt like he was talking just to me.
“Holland is a brilliant analyst,” he said. “But she is also kind, genuine, loving, and the most honest woman I’ve ever met.” His emphasis on the word “honest” got my attention, considering that at one time he’d believed I’d been capable of a huge lie.
People around the room had begun raising eyebrows and muttering to each other. This was a decidedly un-corporate speech at this point. The rising chatter seemed to pull Oliver back to himself and he glanced around with a sheepish smile. “And I hope you’ll all forgive me for this,” he said. “But I need to ask her to forgive me, too.” He cleared his throat and looked almost nervous. I’d never seen Oliver look nervous. “I never meant to fall in love with her. I wouldn’t ever purposely fall in love with someone I work with—it certainly raises a lot of issues that are better left untouched in terms of ethics and propriety. But you can’t always choose who you love.”
“No you can’t!” someone called from the crowd. I could feel heat rising in my cheeks, and my head was beginning to swim from standing for so long.
“And for a while I let those issues—and some others—get in the way of what really matters.” Oliver’s eyes were on me again, adding to the heat glowing in my body, threatening to melt me where I stood. “Would it be possible, I wonder, if maybe I asked Holland to open my gift for the baby next?”
Everyone in the room cheered, and I felt dizzy. What the hell was he doing? What was this? I glanced at Delia, who was grinning, but whose face paled when she caught my eye. She was at my side in two seconds.
“Sit down, Holland!” She pul
led my chair out and helped me into it. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
“I have no idea what’s going on right now,” I admitted. “And I’m not feeling great.”
“Not great like you think you’re about to have this baby?” she asked, her eyes going wide.
“No, like I think I might throw up. I’m so hot and dizzy. And what the hell is Oliver doing?”
Delia put a bottle of water in front of me, which I sipped as some kind of commotion erupted in the back of the room where Oliver had been standing. People were moving around and I began to feel slightly better, though it still seemed like the room was much too hot and there were too many people here. My heart was hammering and my head hurt, and I found it easy to blame Oliver for all of it. What the hell was he doing?
Before I could think much more about it, he appeared at the front of the crowd next to Delia, a humongous box in his arms that was taller than he was. It was long and square, and I could only imagine it must have held some kind of stand-up speaker or space heater for a patio, or…I really had no idea what baby item might require such a box. I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips as I watched him struggle with the awkward package to the front of the room and put it down, a shy smile on his face as he looked my way.
“For you,” he mouthed.
“You want help opening it?” Delia asked, still looking worried.
I was so confused and overwhelmed, dizzy and sick, that there was no way I could casually stroll over and unwrap a seven-foot-tall package without something terrible happening. I nodded.
“Present by proxy,” Delia told Oliver, pulling the huge red ribbon from the front of the box.
“What is this?” Pamela asked, her eyes wide as Delia worked.
Inside the wrapping was an unmarked cardboard box which gave no hints at the package’s contents, leading Delia to put a hand on her hip and shoot Oliver a look of sheer disbelief. One of the guys from development stepped forward with a pocketknife.
“Will I hurt it if I cut it open?” he asked Oliver.
“Don’t cut too deep,” Oliver said, waving him forward.
Mr. Big Page 23