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She raised her chin slightly, and I knew she’d heard me. She sniffed and turned to face me, her eyes less furious than they’d been.
“There’s nothing wrong with needing help,” I continued. “In business, in life. The key is trusting the right people to help, and we made a good choice in trusting each other. It’s going to pay off.”
We sat a moment longer, saying nothing, and then her face softened and she said, “I’m so sorry, Oliver.”
I shook my head. “Don’t be.”
She reached across the table and took my hand. In that moment, every fear I had fell away. Every sound in the increasingly busy bar faded to a pleasant background hum, and all I could see was Holland—those clear blue eyes holding my own. “You told me you were adopted. I understand what it feels like to know you weren’t…wanted.”
Her voice trailed off, but her fingers stayed on mine, warm and comforting. And her words…I didn’t know exactly how to respond. One part of me wanted to scream that no one in the world had ever been more wanted than she was. I couldn’t imagine wanting anyone more…but I knew that wasn’t what she meant, and casting her words into a sexual realm would cheapen them. I just kept my eyes on hers, letting the words sink in. She was right. Someone had decided I wasn’t enough, long before I’d ever had a chance to prove them wrong. It was a dark thought, one I hadn’t let myself focus on much since finding out.
“It doesn’t mean anything about you, though.” She squeezed my fingers softly. “I’ve had a lot of years to think about that. Someone made a bad decision, got into a situation they couldn’t handle. It doesn’t make them a bad person, and it doesn’t mean there was anything wrong with you.”
I got the impression she was talking to herself as much as to me.
“What matters is what happened afterward.”
Her face crumpled for a split second and then cleared.
“Holland…” It felt like my heart might split in my chest at the sadness written in her eyes.
She shook her head and pulled her hand away. “No, sorry.” She took a long sip of her drink and then sat back in her chair, putting distance between us, or maybe just getting distance from the topic. “The point is, I get it. It’s a hard thing to get your head around, no matter how much time you have to think on it.”
I nodded, wanting to do so much more. I hated the hurt I saw on her face, the question that lived in those eyes. How had anyone ever let her go?
“I’m just saying…to find out so late…that would be hard.” She cocked her head to the side. “When they told you, how did they explain waiting so long?”
For a split second I couldn’t speak as the truth welled up in my throat, choking me. I swallowed hard and chased the bile with a sip of whiskey. “They didn’t tell me. Ever. The lawyer did when he went through the paperwork.”
She sat up straight, looking like a lightning bolt had gone through her. “Oh God.”
I could feel the darkness threatening at the edges of my mind and I shook my head, trying to clear the anger away, but it didn’t help. My hand gripped my glass hard. “They lied to me my whole life. They let me believe in something that wasn’t even true—never told me where I came from, who I really belonged to…” I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering how much it had hurt when I’d first learned about it, how hard it had been to process this new reality. My entire life had been a fucking lie. A fucking pile of lies.
“Oliver, no.” Holland’s hand was on mine again, her voice pleading as she leaned in, pulling me back from the edge of the darkness. “I don’t know why they didn’t tell you…but I do know something else, something really important.” She squeezed my fingers and waited until I met her eye. “Oliver…they wanted you. They loved you. Chose you.” It was a whisper, and her voice broke as the words slipped from her perfect lips.
I looked up to find tears welling in her eyes, and the darkness inside me cleared, forgotten, as I took in her pain and wondered how to make it disappear.
“No one ever chose me.” Her eyes shut and the tears squeezed past her lashes, rolling in lines down the pale skin.
Oh God.Seeing Holland upset had hit me hard, but seeing her cry? It almost broke me. I stood up and moved to her side, gathering her into my chest and burying my head in her hair, not caring where we were or who might be nearby. “I do,” I whispered into her hair. “I choose you.”
—
I had wanted to take Holland home with me that night, but she refused. She insisted that she was fine, but that she needed time to think. I let her go, hoping against hope that she’d come back to me, that I hadn’t lost my chance to make those incredible eyes shine again.
The next morning, I headed into my office. I flashed my badge at the security guards, who both seemed to struggle not to look surprised at my appearance for the second day in a row.
“Mr. Cody,” they said as I walked to the elevators.
When the doors slid open at reception, I walked directly to the tall desk where the young receptionist appeared to be frozen, her eyes wide.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Mr. Cody,” she said, her voice soft. She didn’t try to hand me messages or tell me anything else, so I smiled at her and turned to walk to my office.
Pamela lifted her head of long brown hair and watched me approach. I saw something like relief cross her face, and imagined she must have been wondering if I’d be back today. I stopped in front of her desk, finding it hard not to grin at her. “Good morning, Pamela.”
“Mr. Cody,” she said, a faint twinkle in her eye. “It’s nice to have you back.”
