Page 94 of When We Were Us

Oliver reached out, taking my hand in his. His thumb traced soothing circles on my skin as he spoke. "I don't give a shit about the island. I only care about how you feel." He paused, considering. "I can put it on the market. I'm sure it will sell fast now that it's fully operational with power and water."

"It was lovely before..." I trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"Yes, it was," Oliver agreed, his voice tinged with regret. Then, his tone lightened slightly. "We can find another place. Maybe somewhere out west where no one can sneak up on us."

I shot him a look, caught between amusement and exasperation. "Is that supposed to be a joke? I don't want to live my life looking over my shoulder."

Oliver's expression sobered. "We're completely safe," he assured me, his voice firm.

"Then why do we have security?" I challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's precautionary. I'm protecting what's important to me."

I felt a rush of affection mixed with a hint of frustration at his overprotectiveness. Before I could respond, Oliver leaned in, pressing his soft lips to mine in a tender kiss.

As we parted, I found myself smiling despite the heavy topic. "You're impossible, you know that?" I murmured, my tone softening.

Oliver's eyes twinkled with love. "Impossible to resist, you mean?"

I playfully swatted his arm but didn't pull away. As we sat there, the weight of our decision about Fox Island hanging between us, I realized that home wasn't about a place – it was about the person you shared it with. And despite everything we'd been through, Oliver was still my home.

The living room buzzed with festive energy as we gathered around the tree. My mother, true to form, had outdone herself, especially with the arrival of her new grandchild. Teagan, the undisputed star of the holiday, cooed contentedly in Sadie's arms.

As I watched my niece being showered with gifts she wouldn't be able to use for months, I felt the secret of my own pregnancy pressing against my lips. The urge to share our joy was almost overwhelming, but I held back, savoring the private knowledge for just a little longer.

Oliver's arm tightened around my waist, his warmth a comforting presence. His eyes met mine, a silent understanding passing between us. We'd gone all out for Teagan's first Christmas, our own excitement for the future barely contained.

When Teagan began to fuss, signaling nap time, I found myself volunteering to help my mother in the kitchen. As I arranged prosciutto-wrapped melon on a festive platter, she turned to me, her eyes searching my face.

"How are you?" she asked, her voice laced with motherly concern.

I focused on the task at hand, keeping my tone light. "Fine."

She paused, then pressed gently, "Better than Thanksgiving?"

I felt a flicker of irritation. "There was nothing wrong on Thanksgiving. I had a work deadline."

My mother's disapproval was palpable. "It was a holiday. You should spend it with family."

I met her gaze, my voice firm. "I was with family. Oliver."

My mother's voice was soft, laced with concern as she turned to face me. "You two seem to be getting along well."

I paused, setting down the platter I was holding. "We are," I replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into my tone. "Why would you think different? I love him."

She busied herself with arranging appetizers, avoiding my gaze. "Sometimes tragedies cause rifts in relationships."

I took a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. "It's been hard to deal with what happened, but we survived."

My mother's hands stilled, her eyes meeting mine. "Have you thought about seeing a therapist?"

Frustration bubbled up inside me. "I don't need a therapist," I snapped. "Get off it, Mom. I want to enjoy the holiday."

Before she could respond, Sadie and Kristen swept into the kitchen, their cheerful voices cutting through the tension. Grateful for the interruption, I mumbled an excuse and slipped away, seeking refuge in the bathroom.

As I washed my hands, trying to calm my nerves, a soft knock on the door startled me.

"Sweetheart, can I come in?" Oliver's voice was gentle, concerned.

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