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"You're an asshole," I spat out, rising abruptly and fleeing to the bathroom, slamming the door shut before Oliver could follow.
Inside the bathroom, I turned on the faucet in the tub, the sound of running water offering a fleeting sense of solace. I dumped in some lime basil bath beads, hoping the soothing scent would calm my frayed nerves.
As I waited for the tub to fill, Oliver's persistent knocks on the door grated on my nerves.
"Come on, Ryleigh. I'm sorry," his voice pleaded from the other side.
"You're a dick. Just leave me alone. I need a bath," I retorted, my anger still burning bright.
Finally, the knocking ceased, and I sank into the warm water, trying to find some semblance of peace. But even as I closed my eyes, the memory of Oliver's lack of trust gnawed at me.
The bathroom door creaked open, and I tensed; my anger reignited at the sight of a naked Oliver standing there.
"Get out. I'm so pissed at you right now," I snapped, turning my face away from him, unwilling to meet his gaze.
But despite my protest, Oliver approached and sat on the edge of the tub, his presence unwelcome yet strangely comforting.
"Let me sit behind you," he pleaded softly, his tone laced with remorse.
"Do you understand that I want to be alone?" I demanded, my voice tinged with venom.
"I want to talk about this. I made a mistake," Oliver admitted, his words hanging heavy in the air.
“You act like I’m some dummy. Why is it that you men think I can’t make a rational moral decision?”
"I don't think that. I don't trust any other men around you, now move forward," Oliver urged gently.
Reluctantly, I shuffled forward, allowing Oliver to settle behind me in the tub. He eased himself into the water and pulled me back between his legs. I leaned back against his chest, his arms encircling me as he began to massage my shoulders. Despite my lingering anger, I couldn't deny the comfort his touch brought me.
He bent down to kiss my neck, his lips trailing to my ear as he whispered, "I'm sorry."
"Oliver, you need to trust me. I love you, and I would never jeopardize our relationship," I asserted, my voice soft but firm.
"I know. It was a lapse in judgment. I never should’ve said it," he admitted, his fingers moving from my shoulders to my breasts, where he began to knead and caress, sending shivers down my spine.
"Don't think sex is getting you out of the doghouse," I warned teasingly, though a part of me was tempted to give in to his advances.
"I'll do anything. I don't like when we're at odds. Can I buy you something?" he offered, his voice earnest.
"So if there was a time to get anything I want, it's now?" I teased, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
"Anything, just pick," he replied without hesitation.
"I only want your love," I responded, sincerity coloring my words.
"You have it," he assured me, his tone filled with warmth.
"On second thought, I've decided what I want," I declared, a mischievous glint in my eyes.
"What?" he asked, curiosity piqued.
"Breakfast in bed," I announced.
"What time? I can set it up tonight," Oliver offered eagerly.
"No, I mean I want you to cook for me," I clarified, a playful smirk dancing on my lips.
"You know it's not a problem. I can cook, but I prefer to order so we can spend time together," he countered.
