“No.”
“Huh.”
“I think she probably said everything she had to say to me when she was alive.”
“Maybe she thinks you wouldn’t listen anyway.”
His father lightly socked him in the shoulder. “She always thought none of us listened. But that wasn’t true.”
“So what’s the secret, dad?”
“Secret to what?”
“A long and happy marriage.”
“Hell if I know. Love? Luck? Lack of better options?”
“That’s helpful.”
An insistent buzz sounded between them, and they pulled their respective phones from their jackets. Oliver hoped for a text from the boys. But it turned out to be his father’s phone that had buzzed. His father glanced at the text, then returned his phone to his pocket.
“Who was that?” Oliver asked.
“Mattie. He agreed to take your shift for tomorrow. Heath is willing to trade with you for next week.”
“Why are you changing my schedule?”
“So you can go join your family.”
“Serena doesn’t want me there.” In fact, she had told him exactly that, told him he needed a few days by himself to think. Or feel. Or something.
His father turned to look at him, one eyebrow lifted. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Serena had an affair.”
“She did? With whom?”
“Ben Wardman.”
His father frowned. “Honestly, Ollie, I doubt that. If for no other reason than that Serena is smart enough not to pick someone who lives in town.”
“Thanks, dad. That’s just what I needed to hear.”
His father clapped a hand between Oliver’s shoulder blades and gave him a gentle nudge back toward the paved pathway.
“She’s not the same person she was before the accident,” Oliver added.
“Spouses change over the course of a marriage. Even without head injuries.”
“I think I was just a youthful rebellion on her part and now she wants the life she was born to.”
“Love is always kind of a rebellion, I’d say.”
Oliver didn’t agree with that idea, but he kept his disagreement to himself as they walked back to the parking lot. He had never needed rebellion in his life. Rebel against what? His parents, who’d had exactly the life he wanted for himself? And now that life had gone all to hell. His mother was dead. His wife was like a person he didn’t know anymore. His boys were two hundred miles away, getting their heads turned by their rich grandparents.
His father walked him right up to his car. “You know, Oliver, your mother made me a better person. And I like to think I made her a better person, too. Maybe that was our secret. We were better together than apart.”
Chapter 37
Oliver gazed down at the street, fifty-two stories below. The distance looked much greater from up here. In fact, everything looked different now that he was actually standing in the reception area of the company where Peter Irving worked. Every decision he made in the past twenty-four hours was beginning to look suspect—even the decisions that were made, reversed, and then reversed again.
But here he was. Behind him sat a well-dressed young woman who had quietly picked up a phone and relayed the news of his arrival to Serena’s father. Oliver hadn’t expected his father-in-law to agree to see him this morning, especially not on such short notice and in his office. He still had no idea what he was going to say to the man, despite wracking his brain for words on the train ride up from Washington. But if he was going to lose his family, he wasn’t doing it silently, without even a word in his own defense.
That’s all he had ever wanted. A family, a decent life in St. Caroline. Hell, to hear Mattie talk, that was all every single woman on the planet wanted. A decent man who wanted to get married, make babies, and live happily ever after. Maybe that wasn’t enough for the Serena Irvings of the world, but that was what Oliver could offer. That, and great sex.
Might want to leave that off the table.
Yeah, he wasn’t going to mention that to her father.
Just be yourself.
Yup. He glanced down at his pressed khakis and his boat shoes. When the Irvings came to visit over Easter, Peter Irving had seemed disappointed that Oliver didn’t have his boat out of winter storage yet. Not that he owned a yacht or anything, but years ago he purchased a used Chris-Craft that had seen better days from a guy on Kent Island and fixed it up.
He fiddled with the braided leather belt Serena had given him one year for his birthday, then tucked in his shirt some more. He’d worn a navy tee shirt emblazoned with the St. Caroline Fire Department logo on the chest. Maybe he should have gone with a dress shirt.
But this is who I am.
This was who Peter Irving’s daughter was married to. A man who taught kids how to stop-drop-and-roll. A man who stood on street corners with his boot in hand, raising money for the fire department. A man who could find his way through a smoke-filled building. A man who knew how to restart a heart on a sidewalk. A man who would run into a skyscraper, like this one, to save someone like Peter Irving.
Oliver turned back from the floor-to-ceiling windows just in time to see his father-in-law, in his expensive suit and silk tie, headed across the grey carpet toward him. Oliver met him halfway in a firm handshake.
The realization emboldened him as he accompanied Peter Irving back to his office—which was spacious and elegantly decorated. He sat in the chair that the other man waved at. Peter sunk into his own large leather chair, one that seemed to dwarf him rather than make him look important. He appeared marginally better than he had in March, but his age was clearly catching up to him. Serena’s parents were older than his.
“Glad you could join us here in the city,” Peter Irving said. “Serena took the boys to the Empire State Building this morning.” He checked the heavy gold watch on his wrist. “They’re probably heading over to the museum of natural history about now.” He looked directly at Oliver. “But I’m guessing that’s not why you’re here.”
“No, it’s not.” He was not going to let this man intimidate him. “I never formally asked for Serena’s hand in marriage.”
Peter laughed. “Doubt she would have let you do that.”
“No. I’m certain she would not. She seems to have been raised to make her own decisions.” He held his father-in-law’s gaze. “I will never be a rich man. But I love your daughter and I have been good to her.” Peter Irving opened his mouth to speak. Oliver cut him off. “She could do better than me, I’m sure. But she could do a lot worse, too.”
He watched as the other man struggled to maintain his poker face. He imagined that not many people challenged Peter Irving.
“She waited until the absolute last minute to begin our wedding ceremony because even at that point she was still holding out hope that you had changed your mind and would be there,” Oliver continued.
His father-in-law took a deep breath. “You know, you were both young. She was always a little impetuous. Leap before you look. That sort of thing. We wanted the best for her. You have kids now, so I’m sure you understand that feeling.”
Oliver nodded to concede the point.
Peter continued. “We didn’t think rushing into marriage with a man she’d met less than six months earlier was a good idea—emotionally or financially. It was our expectation that the two of you would split up within the year.” His eyes darted toward the heavy gold watch on his wrist again.
Oliver knew the time allotted for this appointment was dwindling.
“Obviously, we were wrong.”
That was about as close to an apology as Oliver imagined he would ever get. Not that he had come here for an apology. He had come to … what? Draw a line in the sand? Stake a flag in the ground? He had spent mile after mile on the train, staring sightlessly through the window, knowing that he had to make this trip but not quite knowing exactly why.
He wasn’t here to antagon
ize his father-in-law. He was here to … then it hit him. He was here to assert his place in Serena’s life, something he should have done years ago—and something that was more necessary now, if the Irvings were going to be part of their lives from here on out. He was here to set the ground rules. For my family.
He stood. “My boat’s coming out of winter storage next week. If you can make some time this summer, you’re welcome to come down and sail with me and the boys.”
He was here to be the better man.
Oliver found his family by the triceratops. Mason and Cam were counting the fossil skeleton’s rib bones, while Serena pored over the museum’s foldout map. He watched them through the crowd for a few minutes, his heart aching with love at the sight of his sons in their best khaki shorts and polo collared shirts. He couldn’t help himself—his mind sketched into the picture a little girl wearing a sundress and Converse sneakers.
Converse sneakers?
He’d seen Jack’s daughter wearing them with a dress. It was a cute look. Girly but tomboy. Exactly the way he had always pictured a daughter of his own.
When Serena was pregnant last year, he had convinced himself that their daughter would have her mother’s wild, curly hair and infectious laugh. Of course, who knew? She could just as easily have ended up with straight hair and Mason’s more guarded disposition.
Either would be fine—or perhaps even some completely new-to-the-family personality. Something to dilute all the testosterone.
He sensed his mother rolling her eyes about now.
He moved with the crowd to keep his wife and sons in view. He was a man of modest ambition, beyond providing for his family and making his hometown a better place. But if he didn’t do those things, who would? Certainly not the “masters of the universe” like his father-in-law.
All of a sudden, Mason and Cam lost interest in the triceratops and rushed over to their mother. Oliver’s heart skipped a beat. Was something happening? A vision of Cassidy in Boston flashed through his head. He glanced around the dinosaur hall, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Families clustering about, tired kids, bored parents. Cam was patting Serena’s hand and it was then that Oliver noticed the vibration in her shoulders. She wiped her cheek with her other hand.
She was crying! He threaded his way through the crowd of tired kids and bored parents, resisting the urge to push people out of the way. What was going on? Did something happen that morning at her parents’ house?
“Dad!” Cam’s voice rang out over the low-level buzz of the dinosaur hall. Mason and Serena turned to look Oliver’s way.
“Babe.” He wrapped his arms around his wife and cradled her dark head against his chest. “What’s the matter?”
“Mom’s sad.” Mason patted her hand.
Oliver peeled the museum map from Serena’s fingers and handed it to his older son. “Why’s that?” Beneath his arms, Serena’s sobs had stilled.
“The dinosaurs remind her of her nana.”
“They do?”
Serena’s head bobbed up and down against his chest. She leaned back to look up at him.
“My grandmother in Atlanta used to take me and Peter to the Fernbank museum when we visited in the summer. They had dinosaur fossils there.”
“Ah.” He looked over her head at Mason and Cam, expecting to see bemused expressions on their faces. But it appeared that bursting into tears over old bones made complete sense to them.
“I’ll explain later,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Dad gave me a few days off.” He ran his thumbs beneath her eyes to wipe away the tears. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Dad! Come check out the triceratops!”
Oliver lifted his eyebrows, silently asking the question.
“It’s fine,” she mouthed back.
Oliver slid his hand down to hers, laced their fingers together, and turned to their boys.
“Okay, so what do I need to know about this fearsome dinosaur here?”
After an exhaustive tour of the prehistoric era and a late lunch at Shake Shack, the four of them tumbled out of a cab in front of the Irvings’ limestone mansion. It was four in the afternoon, and even Oliver needed to get off his feet and rest.
But … he looked up and down the block, then squinted at the house number on the “house” they were standing in front of. Could you call this a house? The building looked like something you’d see in a movie. A movie about extremely rich people. It was—he counted the rows of windows—five stories. Ahh, it was an apartment building! That made sense. City people lived in apartments.
“Dad!” Cam headed for the wide grey steps. “This is where Grandma and Grandpa Irving live!”
“Cam, wait up,” Oliver cautioned.
But it was too late. Mason was bounding up the steps, as well. Then things got weird. The wide double doors to the building opened and an older, uniformed man stepped out.
“Mr. Delacroix!”
Wait … his boys were on a first name basis with the doorman? Well, not “first name” but clearly past the “stranger danger” admonitions he had drilled into their heads.
“You must be Oliver,” the man looked at him. Okay, so the doorman is on a first name basis with me. “Mr. Irving rang to let us know you were in the city.”
Serena tugged at Oliver’s arm and led him toward the steps. “Ollie, this is Mr. Delacroix. He’s been with my parents for years.”
With her parents? Oliver’s head was spinning now. Then Mr. Delacroix stepped aside to allow them all to enter and … Oliver’s head nearly exploded. He was expecting the usual apartment building lobby—nicer than any he’d ever seen, naturally—but one with a front desk, a bank of metal mailboxes set into a wall, an elevator or two …
“This is your house?” he whispered to Serena as the boys ran up a staircase that looked to be made of … marble?
She looped her arm through his. “Take a deep breath.” She smiled at Mr. Delacroix, who hovered for a moment and then discreetly disappeared up the staircase behind Mason and Cam. “I know it’s a bit much.”
“I guess when you said your parents had a pool in the basement, I thought it was like a communal pool. For the whole building. But …” He looked around at the foyer and shook his head. “Granted, I’ve only been in them when they’re on fire but the mansions around St. Caroline aren’t anything like this.”
“Just one of the many things I like about your hometown.”
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a simple gesture but a familiar one that calmed the blur of agitation in his chest. It had been awhile since he felt calm. Maybe Serena hadn’t been able to magically turn him into a better man all by herself, but he certainly felt better when she was around.
“So why are you here, really?” she added. “And how did my father know about it?”
Footsteps sounded on the staircase, then Mason’s voice. “Dad? You guys coming up?”
“Be right up, bud!” He looked at Serena, badly wanting to take her in his arms but also not wanting to make a fool out of himself if she’d already made up her mind.
To leave him.
“I went to his office first.”
“Why?”
“I should have stood up for myself eight years ago, when we got married. I should have stood up for us. I told him that I know you could have done a lot better than me. But that you also could have done a lot worse.”
Her expression was unreadable, another thing that was different about Serena these days. She no longer wore her feelings on her sleeve. The accident had taken away more than just her memory—it also wiped away some of her exuberance, that devil-may-care approach to life that had led her to marry a man she’d known for mere months.
She was a little more like him now. Cautious. Prudent. Burdened by the understanding that everything could disappear in a heartbeat. He was going to have to shoulder more of the emotional weight of their relationship. He knew that now. If their marriage was going to survive the accident, it
couldn’t just coast along on her energy alone.
He took a deep breath. Talking about relationship stuff had always been akin to running into a burning building for him. Get in, locate the fire, extinguish it, and then get the hell out. That wasn’t the right analogy, though. A relationship wasn’t a fire to put out. It was a fire to keep going. For a firefighter, this was scary territory.
Losing her was an even scarier prospect.
“But I didn’t come here to talk to your father.” He pulled her closer. “I came because we need to talk about … stuff. About everything. About us.” He tucked a dark curl behind her ear.
“It couldn’t wait until the boys and I got home?”
“I was afraid that might be too late. And I know that I totally and completely suck at talking about … you know, stuff. Feelings. But I know I need to try. Try a little harder.”
He held his breath while her eyes searched his, studied his face, took his measure. He wasn’t used to not knowing what she was thinking just from looking at her face or her body language. I must have driven her nuts all these years. Probably he was lucky they were still married.
Her small hands reached up and cupped his jaw, tugged his face down toward hers. Her lips were about to brush his, when Mason’s voice sounded again from the top of the staircase.
“Guys?”
She let her hands slip from his cheeks.
I love my kids. I really do, but … Mason had terrible timing.
Serena took a step back, then turned toward the stairs. “Boys, please ask your grandmother to give you some milk. Then why don’t the two of you go up to Uncle Peter’s room and rest before dinner?”
“Cam’s already asleep at the table,” Mason answered.
She sighed. “Okay. We’ll be right up.” She looked over her shoulder at Oliver. “We’ll have to talk later tonight, okay?”
“Sure thing.” He followed her up the marble stairs to the rest of the Irvings’ ridiculous house.
Chapter 38
Serena quietly closed the door to her childhood bedroom behind her. Surprisingly, the room looked mostly the way it had when she was a teenager. She wondered why her mother had never redecorated it.
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