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“I wasn’t thinking. And I was afraid,” he admitted, his voice cracking.
“I needed you and you abandoned me. You just shut off. Once I lost our son, that was it. Like you didn’t have a need for me anymore,” I said, my voice breaking.
“I handled it very poorly. You deserved better. I don’t know what else to say,” he said, his eyes filled with regret.
"If I come back—" I began, my voice wavering slightly.
Oliver leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Not if," he interrupted, "when."
I sighed loudly, running a hand through my hair. "Suit yourself. When I come back, you need to do a few things for me. This is non-negotiable."
"Anything," Oliver said without hesitation, his eagerness palpable.
I held up a hand, cautioning him. "Don't say yes yet until you hear them."
Oliver's jaw set with determination. "I'll agree to anything if you come back."
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "We need to go to couple's therapy."
To my surprise, Oliver nodded. "I know. I was going to suggest it."
"You were?" I asked, unable to hide my shock.
"I've wanted you to go for a long time," he admitted, his gaze dropping to his hands.
Eventually, I would tell him that I was seeing a therapist because the nightmares got too intense. Without him to be there to shut them down, they were an uninvited visitor on a nightly basis. Since I’ve been seeing Dr. Snell, they’d calmed some.
I leaned forward, my voice intense. "This isn't just about me. It's about us as a whole. Suppose I get pregnant again and have another miscarriage? Are you going to shut down and walk away? I can't handle that."
Oliver grimaced as if in pain, his shoulders tensing. "I won't," he promised. Then, almost tentatively, "You should stay home once you get pregnant."
I shook my head, frustration creeping into my voice. "Oliver, that won't stop me from miscarrying. It's nature."
"I hope it doesn't happen again," he said softly. "I'm not sure I can take it, but I promise you that I won't run away. I'll be open and honest about my feelings."
He set his wine glass on the small table between us and stood, moving to the end of my lounger. His hands found my legs, stroking gently. Despite my resolve, warmth bloomed in my belly at his touch. I felt my nipples tighten, a familiar ache of need stirring within me.
Oliver reached out, cupping my face with his hand. His touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine. "I love you, Ryleigh," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "I'll walk through fire to make this work."
I swallowed hard, fighting against the urge to melt into his touch. "I don't want you to walk through fire. I want you to make me a promise and keep it."
"I will," Oliver vowed, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. After a moment, he asked, "Can I ask you a small favor?"
I couldn't help but laugh, the tension breaking slightly. "Back together for two minutes and you're already asking for favors?"
A small smile played at the corners of Oliver's mouth. "Can I kiss you?"
My heart raced, desire warring with caution. "That's not a good idea."
"On the cheek at least," he pressed, his eyes pleading.
I hesitated, then relented. "The cheek is fine."
As Oliver leaned in, his lips brushing softly against my skin, I closed my eyes. The familiar scent of him enveloped me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.
“I think you should go,” I whispered.
"Now?" Oliver asked, his voice low and husky.
