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"Then why wasn't I informed?" I demanded, hands on hips. "I thought I was taking co-lead with you?"
Oliver's jaw clenched. "I changed my mind. You have enough to deal with on this side of the country."
The implications hit me like a slap. "Does that mean you'll be traveling to the west coast without me?"
"More than likely," he said, his voice maddeningly calm. "You still have the two brownstones in Brooklyn and the building in the financial district to worry about."
I stepped closer, my voice rising. "I can handle all of them with room for another project. They're all on schedule."
Oliver finished knotting his tie – a shade that almost matched his eyes – before finally looking at me. "The answer is no. You handle what you have."
"You're ridiculous," I spat, spinning on my heel and storming out to the bathroom.
As I angrily applied makeup, I heard Oliver's shoes clicking on the wood floor, followed by the soft thud of the bedroom door closing. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away furiously. Fuck him.
If he wouldn't pay attention to me, I knew someone who would. It was probably childish, but I needed someone to confide in. Sadie was family, and my other friends lived in Westchester. I needed a face-to-face to pour out my feelings.
The ride to work was excruciating.
We sat on opposite sides of the limo's bench seat, the space between us a chasm. I stared out the window at the bustling pedestrians while Oliver's fingers flew across his phone screen. We might have been mere feet apart, but it felt like we were separated by oceans.
Hours later, the soft glow of The Iron Horse's vintage lighting did little to lift my spirits as I sat across from Tyler, pushing my Caesar chicken salad around the plate. The weight of my confession hung heavy in the air between us.
Ty's face contorted with shock and pain as he processed what I'd just told him. "Jesus Christ, you were pregnant?" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded, my throat tight. "Yes, a little over four months."
"I'm so sorry," Ty said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.
I gave him a weak smile. "It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault, though I feel Oliver blames me."
Ty's eyes flashed with anger. "I changed my mind about him. He really is an asshole."
I sighed, twirling my fork absently. “I want to talk to the woman who lost his baby."
I didn’t have to explain since Tyler looked the information up about Lara Harvin’s miscarriage. He knew the story.
Ty's brow furrowed. "Why do you want to talk to her?"
"I want to find out how Oliver acted after she lost the baby," I explained, my voice small.
"Does it matter?" Ty asked, genuine curiosity in his tone.
I met his gaze, willing him to understand. "To me it does. Maybe it's just me. It's like losing our child was like a switch. He isn't the same Oliver. I understand he's hurting, but so am I."
Ty's jaw clenched. "And he should know that if he loves you."
"He does love me," I insisted, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears.
"It sounds like he loves himself more," Ty muttered, then immediately looked regretful.
I reached for my wine glass – my second of the evening and my first taste of alcohol in months – taking a long sip to buy myself time. "I don't know what's going on in his head," I finally admitted.
Ty's expression softened. "I wish I had some insight for you."
"Thank you for listening," I said, managing a genuine smile this time.
Ty's eyes locked onto mine, intensity burning in their depths. "Anytime. You know I love you, even if you don't love me back."
