There was no starting over. Not for me.
Yet deep inside, my chest ached. I’d loved this woman so fiercely once. We’d made a baby together. We’d stayed awake through the night talking about our hopes and dreams for the future, planning the kind of life we wanted for ourselves and our children.
And still she’d cheated on me, then left without giving either me or Annie a second thought.
Sometimes I wondered if I’d ever truly known her. Could you ever really know a person, or did you only see the version they chose to share?
I poured a small scotch and knocked it back in one swallow, the burn welcome, the warmth the alcohol generated very much needed.
“Can I have one of those?” Sara asked.
I got a fresh glass and poured her one, pushing it across the counter. She stood and came to join me in the kitchen. Following my lead, she drank the amber liquid, then carefully set the glass back down.
“I’m happy, Sara. It took me a long time to get over you, but finally I’m happy. I’m with Harlow, and that isn’t going to change. You say you want me back? You’re wasting your time. I’ve moved on.”
She shrugged, a faint smile touching her lips. “I didn’t expect you to, even if I kept an ember of hope alive that you might still love me. Annie is a different matter, though. I want a chance to get to know my daughter.”
The words “over my dead body” were on the tip of my tongue, but until I obtained legal advice, I had to keep things on an even keel. There was no point riling her up. She’d only come out fighting.
“Give me some time,” I said. “I need to think through the practicalities. She doesn’t know you, and I won’t have her confused or upset. This will have to be handled very delicately.”
“Okay,” she said in a small voice, gazing up at me from underneath her lashes.
“I’d like you to leave.”
She nodded and picked up her purse from where she’d set it down on the coffee table. She slipped it over her shoulder.
“Why did you do it, Sara?” I blurted. The question had long burned inside me, but until now, the chance to ask it hadn’t arisen, and I hadn’t expected it to come out now. “What possessed you to walk out on me and Annie? I forgave you for the affair. I poured all my love into you. I gave you everything, yet it wasn’t enough. Why?”
She drew in a deep breath, her gaze slightly averted. “I’ve asked myself that question a hundred times, and the only conclusion I can come to is that I felt trapped. I was twenty-one years old with a new baby, a new husband, a life neither of us had foreseen during our college years. ROGUES exploded, and you simply… disappeared. The hours you spent at the office grew longer and longer. I barely saw you. And I was lonely, Oliver. That was why I had the affair in the first place.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me?” I asked.
“I tried,” she cried. “So many times. But it was always, ‘I’m too tired, Sara, let’s do this tomorrow’, or, ‘I’ve just got to take this call’, or the baby would cry and I’d be the one expected to see to her because you were too busy on your phone answering emails.”
My mouth fell open. The picture she painted was far from my recollection. From my perspective, she cast aside our marriage without giving us a chance.
“If that’s true, then you should have yelled, screamed, demanded I listen. One day you were here, the next you’d left, and insisting I only communicate through a fucking lawyer. Take one second to stand in my shoes and realize what that must have been like for me.”
Her eyes lowered to the floor. “You do not understand the strength it took to walk away from you, from Annie. But I knew if I saw you again, you’d persuade me to return home, and I wouldn’t be able to resist you. I never could resist you.”
I scraped a hand through my hair. “Would that have been such a hardship?”
“Yes,” she insisted. “Because nothing would have changed.”
I thought back to the last few weeks with Harlow. I made sure I was home by six-thirty every night unless there were extenuating circumstances. I put Annie to bed and then Harlow and I spent the rest of the evening talking, kissing, fucking. Had things been different with Sara? I honestly couldn’t recall. Sure, ROGUES took up a lot of time. Any new business that grew as fast as ours had needed a shit ton of care, but Sara talked as if I’d completely abandoned her.
I made a mental note to ask Garen for his recollection of that time. All the ROGUES guys had been around during the whole sorry mess, watching as my marriage, and then me, fell apart. But out of all of them, I was the closest to Garen. In college, we’d been the six amigos, but kind of paired up. Ryker and Elliot—best friends since forever—Sebastian and Upton who bonded over their love of Xbox online, and me and Garen, complete opposites who found we enjoyed the conflict our differing views on life brought to our many heated discussions.
“You didn’t take Annie,” I said, stating the obvious.
“No. I wouldn’t have done that to you.” She bit down on her lip. “She was better off with you, anyway.”
Despite saying all the right things, I didn’t trust her. Something rankled, and until I’d worked out what Sara’s angle was, I’d be on my guard.
I removed my cell phone from the inside pocket of the jacket I’d discarded earlier. “What’s your phone number?” Sara reeled off a bunch of numbers. I added her to my contacts. “I’ll call you in a few days.”
A few days. A week. Or how about never?
My internal thoughts were nothing more than a pipe dream. Sara wouldn’t allow me to put her off. She’d demand to see Annie, and if I didn’t handle my ex with kid gloves, previous experience told me she’d run straight to a lawyer.
“Thanks.” She headed for the foyer, then paused in the entryway and glanced over her shoulder.
“You look good, Oliver.”
She disappeared. Just as well. I didn’t know how to respond.
24
Harlow
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. In my haste to retrieve it, I fumbled and dropped it on the floor.
“Shit,” I bit out, picking it up and hoping the screen hadn’t shattered.
Annie giggled. “You said a bad word.”
I formed a fake smile solely for her benefit and pressed my fingertip to my lips. “Shhh. It’ll be our secret.”
She giggled again while I read the text from Oliver.
She’s gone. Please come home. I miss you both.
Relief rushed through me at the speed of a freight train as I realized I’d internally prepared myself for rejection. Oliver and Sara had a history, albeit one fraught with bitterness and hurt. Three months ago, he and I hadn’t even met. I’d never felt my temporary status more keenly than right now. It would be so easy for him to welcome Sara back into his life and make a family with Annie at the center. Sara’s long-term absence had provided me with a veneer of security. Now… I no longer knew my place.
But Oliver’s text had given me a taste of reassurance. I craved more.
Careful, Harlow. Don’t turn into one of those clingy types who panics every time their man is out of sight.
I gestured to the server and asked for our check while Annie finished her bowl of chocolate ice cream. I leaned over and wiped away a smudge at the side of her mouth. My heart squeezed, and I struggled to get air into my lungs. It wasn’t only Oliver I’d fallen for. Annie might not be mine biologically, but I’d gotten closer to her than any other child I’d ever looked after. She was special. If I had to leave her behind, it would break my heart.
This wasn’t the outcome I’d expected when I took this job, and now, with Sara’s return, my whole future could be snatched away in an instant.
“Ready, sweet pea?”
Annie nodded and jumped down from her chair, then rubbed her tummy. “I’m so full.”
“I’m not surprised. You ate enough to last you a week.”
Annie’s chatter on the way home gave me something else to concentrate on. The las
t thing I needed was the chance for cynical voices to take over my mind, spreading their poison, and causing me even more stress.
Even though I knew Sara had left, as the elevator traveled upward, a knot formed in my stomach, and my throat felt dry and scratchy. I could still smell her lingering perfume.
Expensive, cloying, overpowering.
I held on to Annie’s hand as we entered the living space to find Oliver standing in the kitchen, his gaze clouded, worry lines pulling his brows low and making his mouth turn down at the edges. He glanced up, and our eyes met. He shook his head, which I took to mean “Don’t ask me yet” and “Act normal for Annie’s sake”.
Annie dashed across the space and gave him a hug, then proceeded to tell him all about her day, barely taking a breath between her stories of what she did in class, how she and another girl had a falling out over a slice of apple at lunch, ending with how full she felt after her impromptu dinner at Bubby’s. Oliver listened with his usual intent expression, asking her questions and showing immense interest in her day. After she’d updated him on every detail, he sat with her at the dining table and helped her with her homework. Watching them with their dark heads pressed together, Annie oblivious to the momentous event that had put a huge crack right down the middle of our relationship, had tears pricking behind my eyes.
“Won’t be a minute,” I croaked, then sprinted for the stairs. I couldn’t look at Oliver. I found myself standing outside Oliver’s bedroom, our conversation from lunchtime today—God, it had only been a few hours ago—prevalent in my mind. He’d asked me to move in, properly, and I’d rushed to agree.
What a difference such a short amount of time made.
I reached for the door handle, then paused. Until Oliver and I had spoken about Sara, I couldn’t go in there.
It wasn’t my place.
Not now.
Spinning on my heel, I went to my bedroom. I closed the door and leaned against it. My mind raced, throwing up all kinds of dreadful scenarios where I lost the man I loved to someone I couldn’t hope to compete with. And then the second I had those thoughts, I berated myself.
Give the man a chance, Harlow.
I jumped at a light tap on my door. There could only be one person on the other side. Annie wouldn’t knock. She’d burst right in.
With a deep breath through my nose, I opened it.
“Hi,” I said quietly, my gaze off-center, my teeth grazing my bottom lip.
“Give me a half hour,” Oliver said, lightly touching my cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll finish Annie’s homework with her, run her bath, and put her to bed. Then I’m yours.”
I met his solemn navy-blue gaze. “Are you?”
His face crumpled. “Yes,” he said earnestly. “And that’s what I told Sara.”
Hope spiked within me, but I tamped it down. Until we’d spoken properly, jumping to conclusions was a bad idea. “Go and see to Annie,” I said.
He bent his head and brushed my lips with his, and then he was gone.
I closed the door, willing the time to pass. I thought about calling Katie and updating her, but what would I say? Oliver’s wife had shown up to stake her claim on him and their daughter? I didn’t know that for a fact. Before I vented to my best friend, I needed to understand the lay of the land.
Annie’s chatter filtered through the closed door, and then the sound of running water filling the bathtub reached me. I slipped from my room and padded downstairs.
As I poured myself a glass of wine, it occurred to me how easily I’d started treating Oliver’s home as my own. I didn’t think about it as I used to. If I wanted a drink, or something to eat, or to kick back and watch a Netflix show, I did it without hesitation. Yet, now, it no longer felt like home. Whatever Oliver and I had become to each other, he still employed me as a nanny for his daughter.
And tonight, with the Sara complication raising its head, I’d never felt more like household staff.
I wandered over to the window and stared out at the view, my reflection in the glass gazing back at me, the despair I felt on the inside mirrored on the outside.
What made a woman who walked out on her family years earlier suddenly return? Six years of silence—at least according to Oliver—and then boom! There had to be a catalyst, that one thing, or maybe a series of things, that drove a person into taking action.
Oliver’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. I didn’t turn around, instead choosing to keep my attention on the outside as though I could find the answers to my problems somewhere in the inky blackness.
“Want me to top that off?” he asked, referring to my half-finished glass of wine.
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
The fridge door opened, and Oliver poured the wine. He joined me by the window and slipped his arm around my waist, his thumb brushing over my hipbone. We stood in silence, neither of us quite knowing where to begin.
I began the conversation with the most burning question racing around my mind.
“Why has she come back?”
I sensed Oliver turn his head in my direction, yet still I gazed out of the window. If I looked at him and saw even a tinge of conflict in his navy-blue gaze, it would break my heart.
His breath hitched. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
“She wants me to take her back.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I see.”
Oliver gently cupped my chin, applying enough pressure that I had no choice but to lift my gaze to his.
“I don’t think you do. She’s not getting another chance, Harlow. I don’t want her anymore. I want you.”
I yearned to believe him. So much. But history had a way of shaping the person we were today, and mine was littered with men who’d let me down.
My father for whom I’d never quite been enough, no matter how hard I tried.
A high school fling who took my virginity then told all his friends about what a lousy lay I was.
My first proper boyfriend who had stolen from me to pay his gambling debts.
And then there was Carter, aka The Cheating Bastard.
“Harlow.”
Oliver’s tentative voice broke through the bad memories, his expression earnest as he waited for me to respond to his statement.
“I need you to be sure, Oliver. If there’s even an inkling of a spark between you and your wife, then you owe it to Annie to try to patch things up. And if you’re worried about hurting me, don’t be. My feelings shouldn’t come into it.”
God, I’m a fucking saint. A dumb fucking saint.
Oliver plucked my glass of wine out of my hand and, along with his own, placed them on a nearby table. Then he returned to me, cupped my face, and kissed me with so much passion, my toes involuntarily curled inside my shoes, and my heart skipped a beat. Every nerve ending came alive, my body tingling with desire.
“There is no spark,” he said, interjecting his words with soft kisses to my neck, knowing the feel of his lips there drove me wild. “At least not for me. But there’s a fucking inferno between us. I burn for you, Harlow. Only you.”
My throat tightened, and I drew in a ragged, shaky breath. I tried to swallow but couldn’t, my throat too thick with emotion.
“Oliver,” I said in a shaky voice.
“Yeah?”
“Please take me to bed.”
His eyes smoldered as they traveled over my face, and then he swept me into his arms. I yelped, clasping on to his broad shoulders for security.
He kissed me once on the mouth. “Gladly.”
25
Oliver
I sat across the desk from my lawyer in his too-dark office surrounded by every law book ever written, and yet not a single one could stop Sara from strolling back into my life and demanding to see her daughter.
Not one.
That was the good news, he said.
Good news? If that’s good, what’s the fucking bad?
“Worst case, Oliver, after a period o
f time, she could apply for, and would, in all likelihood, get joint custody.”
My back stiffened, and the walls began to close in. I struggled to steady my breathing. “No. No, that’s not possible. She left, Adam. She left us. Surely that negates her parental rights.”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t,” he said, shrugging. “Unless you can prove she’s a bad mother, that Annie would somehow be in danger in her mother’s care, then the court will be sympathetic toward her. If you want my advice, I’d try to keep this between the two of you and out of the courts. That way you maintain control.”
“An illusion of control,” I said bitterly. Why did I bother to pay five hundred dollars an hour for a lawyer who couldn’t fucking help me?
“It’s better than the alternative,” Adam said. He leaned forward, resting the edge of his linked hands on his desk. “I know this is shitty, Oliver, but you’re much better off keeping Sara placated than introducing conflict into an already difficult situation.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, getting to my feet. “I’ll look forward to receiving your bill.”
Normally Adam would grin at such a barbed comment and return the favor with interest. Instead, he appeared genuinely distraught.
“I’m so sorry. I wish there was more I could do. If anything comes up and you want to talk it over with me, call. Day or night.”
I nodded, offering a faint smile when what I really wanted to do was to scream at the unfairness of the justice system.
Fucking justice, my ass.
I arrived at my office a little after ten to find Ryker sitting in my high-backed leather chair wearing a very strange expression.
“I tried calling.” He fiddled with my Mont Blanc pen, his hooded gaze steady as he watched me hang my jacket on the coat stand by the door.
“You did?” I dug my cell phone out of my pocket and cursed. “It’s on silent. Sorry. What’s up?”
Enraptured: A Billionaire Romance (The ROGUES Series Book 2) Page 15