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Chapter 21
Lucian
I watch Olivia drive away until her car becomes a tiny speck on the lake road. The weight of everything that has taken place the last day comes crashing down on me, and I sink to the couch with my coat on. She’s pregnant, and I’m going to be a father. I’ve always wanted children.
When she first told me, I wanted to be an asshole and ask if it was mine, but after the look in her eyes, I couldn’t do it. I knew it was my baby. I also know she wasn’t cheating on me while we were together even though her kiss with Jake was a lapse in judgment. However, the pain from seeing her in another man’s arms still stings after a week and a half since happening.
I remove the black velvet box from my pocket and open it. The ring I selected gleams at me, and I wonder if she tried it on. Did she wear it and know what it would have been like to be engaged to me? The questions were on the tip of my tongue when we talked, but it would have been inappropriate to ask due to the circumstances.
Something in me tells me to get back to Manhattan. I have much to do, and even though Olivia and I aren’t together, I still have my child to think of. I want to provide a home for them. I think about it as I head to the store. I have to repair a hinge on the bathroom door that is rusty. I never replaced the interior doors, but maybe I should in the spring.
While I’m at the hardware store, I pass by the paint section. I can’t resist examining colors that could liven the walls of the nursery in my apartment. Would I want to know the sex of our child so I could paint the room blue or pink? Or would I leave it to chance and paint it a neutral yellow or soft green?
The shades of green make me think of Olivia’s eyes. How I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her until her lids came down over those gorgeous irises. I’m still angry at her, but I can’t deny my love. I wanted to share the bed and hold her all night. When she cried, my heart squeezed so tightly that it hurt.
I don’t know how to put the pieces of our relationship together again, but do I want to? Olivia did me wrong, but she is going to be the mother of my child. Our interaction will never cease until our dying days as a result. I have to decide if I want to spend those days with her in my arms or at arm’s length.
I’ve been back for two weeks now. The furniture was delivered to the new apartment several days ago. When I first got home, I took Olivia with me in the guise of asking her opinion on what to choose. In actuality, I wanted to buy what she wanted, what she liked. After much soul searching, I’ve gotten over my anger. I forgave her, but she doesn’t know that I have.
I’m looking for the right moment to tell her. Until then, it’s brief chats in the hall at Eltech and doctor visits to see how our little one is doing. The first ultrasound I attended with her left me fascinated with the tiny figure on the screen. The doctor estimates that Olivia is two months pregnant and that our child will be born in early September.
I’ve taken to carrying the engagement ring in the change pocket of my slacks and jeans each day. I know I want to ask Olivia to marry me again, and when the moment presents itself, I will. She is cautious, too cautious. Her behavior is like a dog that’s been kicked too much. All her spark is gone.
Each time I see her, my heart flutters. I resist the urge to kiss her breathless. I want her in my life and not just as the mother of my child, but as my lover, my wife, my forever.
A few days after I move into the new apartment, I overhear her talking to someone in the break room about having no heat in her building. The furnace went out, and when she woke this morning, her apartment was freezing. Once the person she is talking to leaves, I slip through the door.
“How are you today?” I ask nonchalantly.
“I’m okay. Glad to be someplace where it’s warm.”
“What’s up?”
“No heat in my building. I woke up to sixty degrees and falling in my place.”
“When are they going to fix it?”
“Management said they’re working on it. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow.”
“It’s frigid out. You can’t stay there in the cold.”
“I would stay at Lexi’s, but she’s not home. She, JC, Megan, and Chase took the children to Disney a couple of days ago.”
“What about Matty?”
“He’s in the Bahamas on his annual boy’s trip.”
“Olivia, if you need a place to stay, you can come to my apartment. I just moved in. I’m working on the nursery, and you can tell me what you think.”
“That’s nice of you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why? Because we’re not together? We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
“Well yes, but–”
I cut her off, “But what? You need a place to stay, and I don’t want you to be stressed while you’re pregnant.”
The hopeful expression she has is erased when she realizes I only want to protect our child. However, it’s not true. I’m sick of our separation.
