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“I just want to get out of here.”
“Let’s pack a suitcase. We can come back if you need anything further.”
Oliver helped me pack and when we walked out to the entry, he commented about the balloons that were now floating freely.
“Were these for me?”
I nodded. “Yes. It was supposed to be a surprise, now it’s ruined. I’m sorry.”
He stroked my hair. “Sweetheart, it’s not your fault. Let’s go home.”
Oliver carried my suitcase and Brenda helped me gather the bags and balloons while Vlad went to retrieve the car.
“Do you feel better?” Oliver asked softly, pulling me closer to him as we cuddled in his bed. It was barely 9:00 p.m. but the events of earlier in the evening took a toll on me. I wanted to tell Oliver about the man I saw when I came out of the store but I was hesitant.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my voice barely a whisper. "A little."
Oliver held me tighter. "You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you."
I looked up at him, my eyes searching his face. "Oliver, where does Brenda live?"
"I got her an apartment in your building," he replied, his tone calm and reassuring.
"But why? I’m not there much."
"It’s a home base for when you are," he explained, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
It didn’t surprise me. Since we started dating, Oliver had become increasingly protective, and with the break-in, his concern had only intensified.
"I won’t be for a while, if ever," I admitted, my voice tinged with uncertainty.
"Does that mean you’re moving in with me?" Oliver asked, a hint of hope in his eyes.
"I want to, but I should talk to my parents first," I said, glancing away.
"Ryleigh, you’re an adult and we’re engaged," he reminded me, gently lifting my chin so our eyes met.
"Don’t you think it’s better if I discuss it rather than spring it on them? You wouldn’t understand because you’re older," I replied, trying to make him see my perspective.
"And I have no parents," he said softly, a shadow passing over his face.
"I wasn’t going to say that," I protested, but guilt twisted in my stomach.
"But you thought it, didn’t you?" Oliver's voice was steady, but I could see the hurt in his eyes.
He was right; I had. My parents' opinions mattered to me, but given the circumstances, moving in with Oliver felt like the best option.
"I didn’t, and I’m sorry if you thought I did. I want my parents to be proud of me," I said, my voice earnest.
"They are proud. How could they not be when you’re so wonderful?" Oliver replied, his eyes softening.
"You’re just saying that because you love me," I said, a small smile playing on my lips.
"You don’t think you’re wonderful?"
"It’s not for me to think. It’s for others to think," I said with a shrug.
"I’ve already got compliments from other employees at work about you," Oliver said, a note of pride in his voice.
