Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“Liam,” I said with a distinct lack of emotion when I opened the door to see his handsome, uncertain expression staring back at me. “What do you want?”
“Can I come in?” He took a step forward and I gripped the door harder, shutting it so there was no space between me, the doorway and the door.
“No. Why are you here?”
Liam crossed his tanned, muscular arms over his chest, one dark brow arched. “Really? You don’t know?”
I sighed, already bored with this conversation. “You showed up here, tell me what you want or go away. In fact, just go away. Good night.” I took a step back to close the door and lock it just in case Liam had a thought to be clever.
“I’m sorry Olive.” His words were bland, obligatory almost in delivery.
“Apology not accepted.” As if some half-hearted apology would get close to making things all right. Nothing would. Not ever. “Are we done?”
“I didn’t know, all right? I thought you were…changing the rules.”
The laugh that came out was half bitter and half amused. “Oh okay then, that makes it all right. Apology accepted, then.” Sarcasm dripped from my voice and it wasn’t lost on him. “Why are you even here, Liam? You don’t want or need my forgiveness.”
His shoulders relaxed just a fraction, proving my theory that forgiveness wasn’t on his agenda. Not tonight, anyway. “Are you pregnant, Olive?”
Straight to the point, I guess. “That’s a pretty personal question to ask someone who’s call you wouldn’t even answer.”
“And that’s not an answer,” he growled, eyes scanning left and right because our little show was sure to draw attention and I was beyond caring.
I shrugged. “Well it’s none of your business Liam so it’s the only answer you’re gonna get. Now if you’ll excuse me, my dinner is getting cold.”
He looked conflicted, torn. The old Olive would have felt sorry for him, would have questioned if she was being too hard on a man trying to apologize. The new Olive, the one who’d been rejected one time too many, she felt nothing over the sadness and regret on his handsome face. “I’m sorry Olive, so damn sorry.”
“You said that already and I don’t accept.” He knew what he was doing when he refused to answer my calls and he knew why he’d done it too. Because he didn’t care.
“Olive-,”
“No. Just stop this Liam, it’s embarrassing and what’s more, it’s insulting. I never once, not in all those calls or texts, asked you for anything but a return all. I didn’t beg you for another night or a date, did I? No, I didn’t. So how about you do me the same favor you did for the past three months and leave me alone?”
“I can’t,” he whispered as his shoulders fell in what was supposed to be disappointment but I didn’t buy it.
“Well that’s your problem, not mine.”
“I was injured,” he admitted as if the whole damn town didn’t know about his heroics or his time in a German hospital.
“Yeah, I can see that.” Which only meant he’d had plenty of time to return a call or a text while he was laid up in the hospital. “You should just focus on healing so you can leave again. Good night.”
“If that’s my baby I have a right to know.” His words were firm and the determined set of his shoulders told me he believed that to his core.
“Maybe you do Liam, but you know what? You don’t get to choose when I do anything, either. So if I am pregnant and if the baby is yours, you’ll find out. Eventually.” With a smile I didn’t feel, I took another step back and closed the door quietly, locking all three locks before I headed back to the living room. And YouTube.
I knew I couldn’t put Liam off forever, but his actions or lack of actions over the past three months told me exactly the kind of man he was, the kind who ran away when life got difficult. When I was ready I would tell him the truth.
But only when I was ready. When I could handle the rejection of my baby without breaking down in tears or worse, I would tell him.
And not a moment sooner.
Liam
I wasn’t usually a man who moped. Moping was for people who didn’t know how to solve their problems, for people who chose to wallow in what they couldn’t do instead of focus on what they could. That wasn’t me, not ever, and I hated that after my conversation with Olive, I’d been relegated to moping around my house, my property like some sad sack bastard from a country song.
At least the view is nice, I thought as I looked out over the blue-green lake that sparkled under the midday sun. I chose this house because of the incredible view, but also because unlike the other houses around the lake, there was a good half a mile of space between my house and the closest neighbor. It gave me the privacy and the quiet I craved when I wasn’t off in some far-flung corner of the world, protecting the lives and property of the one percent.