Page 110 of When We Were Us

It was a warm mid-June day, and I dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top. I was in good shape even with indulging in a little too much scotch now and again. I kept working with Brad and confided in him about my marriage. He understood because he was once married to a man who ended up cheating on him. But it all worked out in the end, and he was married again to the love of his life, Jurgen. He gave me hope.

I slipped on a pair of sneakers without socks and slipped on a backpack. Inside, I packed a couple of bottles of water, Trouble’s collapsible bowl, a few dog treats, a pink ball, and a towel. I grabbed the colorful dog leash from the hook near the door and snapped it on Trouble’s collar. I relished the heat as I stepped outside from the lobby, and we headed for the park.

“Get it, boy!” I called as I bounced the ball in the grass. Trouble chased it and grabbed it with his mouth then brought it back to me so I could throw it again. I did this a few more times until his tongue was hanging from his mouth. He needed a rest and some water. I found a relatively shady area to sit on the grass, laid out my towel and got his bowl out to give him some water.

When he was finished, I popped my earbuds in and wound Trouble’s leash around my hand so he wouldn’t chase after something. I felt relaxed and calm until Trouble started barking his head off, straining at the leash. My eyes fluttered open to see Oliver standing in front of me.

My heart skipped a beat. He was standing there wearing a pair running shorts and had his t-shirt hanging from the waistband. His sculpted chest and torso glistened with sweat. Oliver was as handsome as I remembered, and I hated him for it.

I wanted him to be miserable and look the part. He didn’t say a word to me as he knelt and scratched Trouble under the chin while trying to avoid his pink tongue from licking his face. I yanked out the earbuds.

"What do you want, Oliver?" I asked, my voice steady despite the nervous sweat coating my palms. I discreetly wiped them on my shorts, willing my heart to slow its frantic pace.

Oliver's eyes darted to Trouble, sitting next to me. "I just came by to say hello," he said, a hint of smugness in his tone. "Trouble doesn't seem to mind."

I clenched my jaw. "But I do," I hissed, my composure slipping. "You can't just come over here and act like everything is fine."

"Ryleigh, we should talk," Oliver said, his voice softening.

I laughed, the sound brittle and humorless. "Talk about what? There is nothing to talk about. You made that painfully clear."

Oliver leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I want to clear things up."

"Like what?" I snapped, anger rising in my chest. "I declined everything you offered except the apartment. You owed me that much after what you did." My voice broke slightly. "How could you, Oliver? Do you feel good about yourself?"

His shoulders slumped. "No, and I haven't for a long time."

I shook my head, fighting back tears. "It doesn't really matter. We'll be divorced in a matter of months." A bitter smile twisted my lips. "I'm surprised you didn't want a quickie divorce so you could move on with Lara. I saw the pictures of the benefit. I hope you two will be happy together."

"She's a friend and that's all," Oliver insisted, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"A friend who wants to get her hooks in you," I retorted. "I'm sure she's thrilled I'm out of the picture."

"Ryleigh, please." The words came out as a strangled cry, and for a moment, I almost felt sorry for him.

I steeled myself against the emotion in his voice. "Please, what? You should just leave me alone before I scream."

Oliver's eyes flashed with challenge. "Scream what?"

"Sexual harassment or just plain harassment," I threatened, my heart racing.

"Neither would be believed," he said, his tone maddeningly calm.

Fury coursed through me. "Why? Because you're the great Oliver Fox? If people only knew what an asshole you are."

Oliver ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "I can't take anything back. It's out there."

"You ripped my heart to shreds and didn't think twice," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "You made a choice without my input."

"It was the wrong choice," Oliver admitted, his eyes meeting mine. "I've had time to think."

I felt my resolve hardening. "No. I can't be with you again. I can't go through more heartbreak when the next thing happens where you want to run away. Now leave me alone."

Oliver rose, defeat etched in every line of his body. He pulled his shirt from his waistband, using it to wipe his face and chest. Despite myself, my eyes were drawn to the movement, lingering on the healed bullet wound – a stark reminder of all we'd been through.

“I need you to forgive me,” he said softly.

I shook my head, exhaling loudly. “I can’t. I won’t ease your mind. You have to live with what you’ve done. I hope you’re happy.”

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