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Oliver stood in my doorway, his beard less trimmed than normal and hollows beneath his eyes that spoke of nights awake. Despite that, he was as beautiful as he was in every one of my dreams—tall, broad, and handsome. His dark eyes burned as he stood staring at me, not moving.
“Come in,” I said, clearing my throat in an attempt to regain my voice. I stepped back and Oliver strode into my apartment, filling the space with his confident beauty and giving me an odd sense of relief. Having Oliver near me made me feel settled, calmer, but I pushed the feeling away. He wasn’t mine. He never really had been.
Oliver raised an eyebrow, standing in the center of my living room and waiting for me to speak.
“Maybe we could sit down?” I gestured at the couch, my voice still weaker than I would have liked.
“I’m not sure it’s appropriate for me to get comfortable in an employee’s apartment on a Friday evening,” Oliver said, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice, which was cool and detached.
I nodded. “I deserved that.” I sat, looking up at him. Maybe he wouldn’t sit, but I didn’t think I’d get through this standing.
“What’s going on, Holland?” His voice softened slightly and I saw a hint of the old Oliver flicker through his dark eyes.
Meeting his gaze after that was an impossibility because I was fighting the urge to just step into his arms, to resume feeling like he was an island of safety discovered in a lonely sea, a place where I was finally at home. I stared at the coffee table instead. “I had a doctor’s appointment today,” I began. “I’d been feeling a little bit…off, I guess. Anyway, I went in—”
Suddenly Oliver was sitting, his knees touching mine and a hand on my shoulder. “Holland,” his voice was broken, gruff.
I met his eyes, relieved to see every ounce of feeling there that I’d extinguished the week before, but no more able to hold that gaze. “I’m fine,” I said quickly. “I mean, I’m not sick.”
He sat back, the hand falling away as a chill raced down my spine. He exhaled.
“I just need to tell you that I’m pregnant,” I said, the words coming in a rush. “I haven’t been with anyone else, and I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m on the pill, I told you that. I guess…it’s just…sometimes it happens.” I met his gaze once the words were out. I’d done it. It was out. No use being pathetic and afraid of what was inevitable. I watched him, waiting for a reaction.
Oliver’s face darkened and he took a deep quick breath in surprise. Then his eyes widened as he blew it out, staring at something in the distance ahead of him that only he could see. And after a long moment, a tiny smile flew across his face and disappeared as he looked directly at me. “I think that’s wonderful.” He seemed to be thinking, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “I’d like to talk about your plans for the baby. Given your reluctance to be linked with me at work, I’m wondering what role I might hope to play here.” The words were formal, but there was a warmth in them that told me he wasn’t upset, wasn’t going to get angry. He did look confused for a second, though, and I held my breath as he stood back up. But then he pulled my tiny giraffe from beneath a pillow where he’d been sitting and gave me a half-grin, putting it on the coffee table and sitting back down.
What role would he play? I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just needed to tell you what was going on.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow and slowly moved to take my hand, the way you’d approach a feral cat or a dog you didn’t quite trust. When I didn’t flinch or move away, he put his other hand on top of mine. “I know you didn’t plan this, duchess,” he said, referring to the plan I’d told him about, the one that had governed my life for more than a decade. “And I know the timing is maybe not ideal.” A grin spread across his face. “But maybe things happen for a reason.”
“You don’t really seem like the type to believe in fate,” I told him, letting the warmth of his skin and his smile rinse away some of the doubt that had been plaguing me.
“I don’t normally, but it seems to me the universe is sending a clear message.”
“Not coming through clearly to me.”
“Duchess.” Oliver pulled my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. “There are so many things I wish I’d said to you before. Maybe this is another chance to tell you. I think we found each other for a reason, and that we’re supposed to be together. I don’t care that we work together. We’ll figure something out, some way to handle that. But this?” He shook his head, a smile on his full lips. “This just feels right. And the idea of starting a family? With you? Just because we didn’t plan it this way doesn’t mean it isn’t the right thing.”
It was almost too much. It was exactly what I wanted but none of it made sense. Nothing had changed, but everything had changed. I felt a tear slip down my cheek. Stupid hormones. I wiped at it angrily. “Oliver, nothing has changed.”
“Everything changes.”
“We still work together.”
“We’re going to be a family.”
I stared at him, tried to imagine going back to work, our relationship in the open. Now not only would I be sleeping with the CEO, I’d be having the CEO’s baby. “How will it look?” I whispered, wanting everything Oliver was suggesting, but unable to see past the whispers and stares I knew were inevitable at work.
“Holland,” Oliver said, and I heard an edge of the voice he’d used to sell MLB. I knew he was shifting into sales mode to convince me. “A job is a moment in time. It’s important, but it’s part of the backdrop of our lives. It’s a detail, like the car that you drive, the place where you live. It’s a choice. But a baby? A relationship with someone who loves you? That’s the focus. And you have all that—that’s what’s being offered here. Don’t distract yourself worrying about the details. They might change, anyway, and none of that will matter if the other things are solid. Look at the opportunity we have. We’re two people who don’t know where we came from, who’ve never been anchored to anyone by the family connection everyone else in the world seems to have, to take for granted.” He smiled, his eyes bright. “I love you, Holland, and I’m going to love this child. Please let me do both.”
Somehow, while Oliver was speaking, I’d found my way into his arms, and now I settled my head against his chest to inhale the clean scent of him. My heart settled within the circle of his arms, soothed by his words despite my surprise at the ease with which he’d said them. He was right. I’d never had a real family, and that was what he was offering. I was afraid to let myself think too hard about it. I could control work, but this? Family had always been the one thing I couldn’t plan or fix, no matter how much work I did. And now here it was, being held out to me like a prize I didn’t even know I’d tried to win. “Okay,” I breathed.
“Okay?” he said, his voice soft but excited.
“I love you, too,” I said, the words muffled by the warm fabric of his shirt.
We stayed on the couch for another half hour, me in Oliver’s arms and him alternately kissing me and peppering me with questions about how I was feeling.
I pushed away the nagging worries I had about work. He was right—this was more important. Everything else would work out.
