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Chapter 13
Oliver
We were out of the parking lot after the MLB meeting and back on the freeway before Holland spoke. I glanced at her as I drove, trying to get a read on her thoughts, her feelings. I’d been less than honest, and I knew she was pissed about that, and I hadn’t given her enough time to really let me have it. But then there’d been the meeting. I was still riding on a wave of adrenaline coming out of the MLB offices. It had gone as well as we could have hoped. I had very little doubt we’d be hearing from them inside the week.
I was going to go back to work. The suit, the meeting—hell, even just getting a haircut and shaving properly—it had all activated the part of me I’d let drop out of sight a long time ago. In the past days with Holland I’d had a flash of what had gotten me involved in this company in the first place. Repurposing the designs and presenting our solution felt a lot like the first eager conversations I’d had with Adam, when we’d envisioned Cody Technology together. The success we’d just had—had just created ourselves—assured me that I was capable. Maybe even smart. And it made me think that maybe there was a chance I could helm this company—that I had actually been more than a figurehead, even before I left.
Being in that meeting, having that powerful feeling surging through me, with Holland at my side, had been like nothing I’d felt before. I’d been strong, capable, and pretty fucking close to complete, despite my questionable parentage. Some key parts of my life had snapped into focus as I’d walked to the front of that boardroom. I wasn’t going to let those go again. And one of those things was Holland. We were an amazing team.
I wanted to talk, to recap, maybe relive a little of the glory we’d just shared, but Holland’s mood had darkened. She practically leapt from the car when I pulled up to her apartment. My hand was on the door latch, and I was about to follow her, to demand she talk to me, but I thought better of it. I’d dropped a bomb on her Saturday, and hadn’t heard from her for the rest of the weekend. It had been hard, wondering what she’d been thinking, but I’d handled it, knowing that as long as she didn’t tell me I shouldn’t come to the meeting, everything was fine.
But as she practically stormed from my car into her building, things were clearly not fine. She’d presented well—she’d been graceful and smart, articulate and so fucking sexy. But she’d been angry, too, and she had every reason to be.
As I pulled away with the beginning of a dark spot marring my newfound happiness, I hoped I hadn’t already ruined everything. We needed to talk. But she needed to be ready.
I couldn’t help sending the flowers—it was an instinct, and I’d been trained in these things by my dad. By Adam. He was the ultimate romantic, according to Sonja. And I’d been an eyewitness to his grand gestures on many occasions. I’d even sent Holland’s flowers myself, though Pamela had given me the florist’s number.
“Good to see you back, Oliver,” she’d said, smiling as she handed me the number on a Post-it note.
“It’s really good to be back,” I said. I meant it.
Everyone left me alone that first day for the most part. Rob stuck his head in and said hello, surprise written in the arch of his brows, the width of his eyes. But he didn’t say anything else.
When Holland texted that afternoon, I let out a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding, and as I crossed the busy street to meet her, I couldn’t help the way my soul lifted. Light filled me when I thought of her—even when I thought of the angry way her eyes had flashed at me that morning. I’d take her any way I could get her.
I found her seated at a table in the corner, a martini glass balanced in her hand. I smiled, ready to have a civilized conversation over a drink. Holland had other plans.
“You fucking lied to me,” she said quietly, not looking at me. “You didn’t even tell me your real name.” She stared into her martini glass and I felt like I would do almost anything to feel her crystal gaze on me again.
“Holland…” I thought about what to say. “I’m sorry” would sound trite, too small a sentiment for what I felt for hurting her. I couldn’t explain why, but Holland O’Dell had become very important to me in a ridiculously short period of time. It wouldn’t be going too far to say I cared more for her than anyone else in my life. Knowing I might have ruined everything before it had even gotten a chance to begin made me want to tear apart the bar. I looked around, feeling desperate. “Holland,” I started again. “I made a shitty choice. And I don’t want to give you excuses about why…but I wonder if maybe you’ll be willing to give me a few minutes to explain.”
I felt like I was wheeling, searching for something to grasp, something that would click with her and bring her back to me. I was looking for anything that might indicate I hadn’t already lost her.
And then her eyes snapped to mine.
“Oliver,” she said. Her voice was soft and lush and I wanted to wrap it around me. Her chest rose as she breathed, and the rhythm of my heart accelerated. She squeezed her eyes shut and looked down again. “This is hard,” she continued. “Because I am really angry at you. But also because of what you told me, and what I know about everything that has happened to you.”
She’d put all the pieces together. I braced myself for the sympathy, hoping it didn’t go the other way—the misplaced honor granted me as CEO. Few people could avoid one or the other. I watched her, waiting.
“But it doesn’t fucking excuse lying.” She met my eye, a fire burning in hers that felt like a challenge, that made me want to pull her into my arms and let her take out her anger on my body. “This was important to me,” she said through clenched teeth. “You can’t even begin to understand how important. I don’t have a clear shot, Hale—fuck, Oliver, whatever the hell your name is! I’ve had to work really fucking hard for everything. And this feels like…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Now it feels like even if this happens, I didn’t do it myself.”
I waited, but she stayed silent after that, her chin pointed down and her eyes squeezed shut. “Holland, this was your idea. I just lent a hand.”
“You took over,” she said. “And you knew exactly what you were doing.”
I let that sink in and tried to decide what tack to take. “Look,” I said. “We did this as a team. We ironed out the technology application together, and we took the meeting together. Smart business involves knowing your weaknesses and finding someone on your team who balances them. That’s exactly what we did.”
“That’s what you did,” she said. She still wouldn’t look at me. “I didn’t get a choice in the matter.”
“I offered to let you go alone,” I reminded her quietly.
She squeezed her eyes shut again and her words were so quiet I almost missed them. “I needed your help.”
That was it, then, that was the issue. She hated that she had needed help. “That is not a weakness, Holland. We all need help sometimes.”
When she said nothing, my blood began to pulse faster through my veins, and I considered whether I still might lose her over this.
“Holland,” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice from rising with my frustration. “I needed help, too. I just wasn’t as graceful about asking for it. I was spinning, and the thing that stopped me was you. Your idea. The chance to make a real contribution again to something that actually mattered.” I watched people move around inside the bar as my mind spun. “I mean, it mattered to me. You were working on something that reminded me of who I used to be, and you gave me a chance to be that guy again for a while. The fact that you didn’t know exactly who I am, where I fit—that let me just be myself.” I shook my head, taking a breath. Holland’s face was inscrutable, her bright eyes staring into space. I shrugged, unsure what to think or feel. “I’m sorry if it felt dishonest, but I was never purposely deceitful. After everything that’s happened to me, lying is one thing I cannot tolerate. And it’s something I’ll never do.”
