Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
OLIVER
“I know it’s not like those houses on HGTV.”
As Shea takes in my barren living room, I curse myself for not following Maya’s suggestions and actually getting some decorations for it.
Every time Maya comes over, she tells me I need more color in here. More decorations. More personality, whatever that means.
Although, I guess if I compare my place to Shea’s, I get it.
Everywhere I look in Shea’s house—at least the rooms I’ve seen so far—reminds me of her. The photos in her living room. The dozens of books on her shelves. The splashes of blue all over, since it’s her favorite color. And all the little mementos she’s picked up over the years, the gifts from me and Niall and Jade. Plus all the things she still has from her parents, the blankets from her mom and the carved wooden boxes her dad used to make.
My place, on the other hand, looks like I moved in two weeks ago instead of two years.
The only photos on display are on the dresser in my bedroom—one a portrait of Maya, Cole, and Clara, the other an old picture from my parents’ wedding. In my office, I have my college diploma from UVA on the wall, but that’s the only thing that could be considered a decoration.
Maya refers to my living room as adult-dorm-room style, which I think is a little unfair. Yes, there’s a very large TV with a surround sound system and perhaps an overabundance of metal and glass, but it’s not like I have a futon or a tapestry or something.
At least, that’s what I had in my dorm room in college. Maybe dorm rooms are nicer now.
Still, whatever style of decorating you’d call it, it’s definitely not warm and inviting, like Shea’s place. And now I feel kind of foolish, inviting Shea to stay here, going on about how it would be so great, and now she’s faced with this.
A thirty-six-year-old bachelor’s house—no, former bachelor—that worked for my simple needs, but isn’t going to come close to making Shea feel at home.
“We can order new furniture,” I offer before Shea has a chance to respond. “And decorations. Lots of blue.” Pausing, I scan the room, trying to think of what else to add. “Those candles you like. The aromatherapy kind. And Maya keeps going on about wall art. I could see if Hanna has any extra photos I could frame.”
Shea releases my hand and walks over to the TV, stretching her arms out to measure the width of it. Then she turns around and giggles. “Oll. This TV is wider than I am tall. Are you sure you couldn’t find one bigger?”
If it makes her laugh after the last two days she’s had, then yes. Absolutely.
But I keep my expression neutral as I ask, “Why? Do you think I should? That one is only seventy-five inches. I could buy one that’s eighty-five if you like.”
A wide grin stretches across her face. “Are you sure there isn’t something bigger? Ninety? One hundred inches?”
I smile back at her. “Hang on.” Sliding my phone from my pocket, I pull up the Best Buy website. After a quick search, I tell her, “Well. There’s one that’s one hundred and fifteen inches. It’s only twenty thousand dollars. What do you think? Should I get it?”
With another giggle, she comes back over and slips her arm around my waist. Her eyes remind me of an Adirondack lake in the summer, sparkling blue with glitters of silver and gold. “I think that sounds crazy. Twenty thousand for a TV? Are you serious?”
“I am.” Holding out the phone, I show her the screen. “See?” After a beat, I add thoughtfully, “Maybe if I wait for a sale…”
“Oliver.” She whacks my arm. “I’m sorry I made fun of your gigantic TV. It’s perfect. You don’t need a bigger one.”
It is pretty big, now that she mentioned it. But it seemed to make sense at the time. With my new job in Sleepy Hollow, I wasn’t going to be traveling nearly as much, and I was envisioning lazy Sundays watching the Bills or spring evenings rooting on the Yankees.
Now that I have Shea back, though… I’m imagining new things. Game nights with Shea and my friends, like Leo does with his wife and the B and A team. Inviting my buddies from the station and the fire department over with their partners, grilling out on the patio I rarely use. And holidays, maybe shifting the TV over to make room for a Christmas tree like I did when I was with Shea before.
Am I jumping the gun? Letting myself get too invested too quickly? After all, there’s no guarantee this will work out with me and Shea.
But in my gut, I know this is real. That regardless of the cause, which was admittedly bad, the result was meant to happen. That we’re supposed to be together.
Shit. I sound like one of those guys in the movies my friends’ wives talk about, the ones where it’s always the same story—a woman from the city comes to a small town and discovers there’s more to life than her job. In those movies, apparently, the guys are so sweet and talk about soulmates and stuff like that all the time.
Before Shea, I scoffed at the idea of a soulmate. Of that one person who fits you so perfectly you don’t know how you existed without them.
Then, after we broke up, I didn’t want to think about it.
Now? It’s on my mind all the time.
All of it. The long haul, as my dad used to say back when I was a kid. Every anniversary, he’d kiss my mom and say affectionately, “When I married you, it was for the long haul. You’re never getting rid of me.”
Except he did leave, just not of his own choice, but that of a drunk driver when I was fifteen. And the long haul wasn’t as long as he hoped it would be.
“Oll?” Shea touches my cheek, her brows arched up with concern. “I was just joking about the TV. You know that, right?”
“Of course.” Forcing away the maudlin memory, I smile at her again. “I was just thinking. But I’m not upset. Far from it.” Then I pull her into my arms, lifting her so our faces are level, and press a kiss to her lips. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
She twines her arms around my neck and slants her mouth over mine, nipping my bottom lip before stroking the small sting away. “I’m happy, too. Is that weird? With everything that’s going on?”
“No.” I set Shea down and take her hand. “I don’t think it is. You can be upset about one thing and happy about another.”
“I suppose so.” A moment later, she brightens. “Well. I’m happy to be here. With you. Monster-sized TV and all.”
“Monster-sized?”
“Pretty much. Now. Are you going to show me around?”
“Of course. It’s more of the same, though. I’m sorry. If I’d known—” Shit. I cut myself off. Bringing up yesterday’s attack isn’t exactly the way I want to make Shea feel comfortable. “Anyway. Like I said. We can decorate. Maybe tonight we can order some things online. And we could stop at the furniture store after work tomorrow.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” As we head into the kitchen, she swings our hands a little. “I mean, the kitchen is nice. I love the big island, and the windows let so much light in.”
But once we get to the rest of the house, I can tell Shea is struggling to come up with nice things to say. Like in one of the guest bedrooms, which is set up with a treadmill and more free weights than any one person needs, she says, “Well. It’s nice that you have a place to keep in shape at home.”
And in my bedroom, with the stark white walls and matching blinds, she offers brightly, “It’s nice and simple in here. So you won’t have distractions when you’re trying to get to sleep.”
“Shea. It’s not nice. I know it’s not.”
“It is.” She pauses. “Well. It could be. With some actual color. And maybe some curtains.” Her gaze drifts to the bed. “Although the bed is big. So that’s a plus.”
Oh.
And now I’m thinking about Shea on my bed, her gorgeous body spread out across it, looking up at me with sleepy bedroom eyes, and?—
Shit.
It’s not the time.
I’m more than old enough to control my body. Just because one part of me wants to make an appearance…
“Oliver.” Shea takes a step closer to me. Her pupils dilate. A hint of pink blossoms on her cheeks. “What are you thinking about right now?”
“The bedroom. New curtains. A new comforter.”
Liar.
“Really?” Her gaze dips below my waist. A smile teases at her lips. “So you get excited about curtains? That’s a new thing.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, really ?” This time she drags out the word. Then her hand drifts down to brush against the noticeable bulge in my pants, which, of course, proceeds to get even bigger.
“Oh.” I give her an innocent look. “Is that what you’re talking about?”
“Yes.” It’s throaty. Sultry. The voice Shea only uses when she’s aroused. Her fingers trail along my growing arousal, searing even through two layers of fabric. “I’m just wondering what you were thinking about.”
No. We are not making love yet.
Shea’s been through too much. The attack yesterday, the drug the doctor claims should have worked its way out of her system by now, the stressful meeting at Blade and Arrow, and then having to pack up her things to come over here. No matter how badly I want it, I’m not rushing this part. No way.
“Shea.” My voice is husky. “What are you doing?”
Those wicked fingers tease me again as she stretches up to nuzzle my neck. “Just touching you, Oll. It’s been so long.”
“It has.” Without thinking, my hands have somehow found themselves on the sweet curves of her ass. Caressing it.
I pull her against me, jutting hard against her belly.
Shea sighs, her breath whispering across my skin.
Her breasts are full and soft against my chest, her nipples pulling into taut peaks that remind me of how gorgeous they are and how much I used to love taking them into my mouth.
Which makes me even harder.
Fuck.
I’m hard as a damn rock, aching with the need to be inside Shea again.
No. Not now.
Shea is too important to rush. It’s one thing bringing her here, having her live in my house. Not that it isn’t a big deal, but making love to Shea for the first time in over four years? It’s not going to be some quick thing. It’s going to be perfect and romantic and I’m going to make damn sure she’s absolutely ready first.
Shea kisses her way up my neck and along the underside of my jaw. Her heart is beating so hard I can feel it.
Taking one hand off her ass, I cup her nape, tilting her head back to capture her lips.
And it’s magic. Just like it always is.
How did I ever get by without her?
I can’t do it again. Not unless Shea wants it. If she wants to end things, I’ll always respect her wishes. No matter how much it hurts.
But if someone else tries to take her from me?
I won’t hesitate to do anything to stop them.
“Oll.” Shea breaks our kiss and meets my gaze. She looks so beautiful, like this wanton Snow White, all rosy lips and bright blue eyes and dark hair contrasting against her creamy skin. And once again, I can’t believe just how lucky I am to have her with me again.
“What, Shea?”
“What do you think…” She glances at the bed. “Maybe…”
Shit. How am I going to do this without her feeling rejected?
First, get out of the bedroom. That would be a good start.
Scooping Shea into my arms, I carry her back into the living at a jog. She yelps and grabs my neck. “Oliver. We’re going in the wrong direction!”
Once I get to the couch, I sit down and arrange her on my lap. Then I hold her gaze as I say as gently as I can, “It’s not that I don’t want to.”
“What?” Hurt flashes in her eyes. “I thought?—”
“Trust me. I have thought about making love to you every day. Multiple times. Probably too many times, if I’m being honest.”
“Then why?”
“Because…” Please say the right thing. “Because I want this to be right. For our first time?—”
“It’s not our first time. Not even close.”
“But this time it is. And I want to make it perfect. With flowers and massages and champagne and hours to take our time.”
Her forehead pinches in confusion. “Champagne?”
I kiss the tiny puzzled lines. “Yes. And strawberries. It’s supposed to be romantic.”
As Shea stares at me, I try to explain. “Yes, I want to make love to you right now. Not sex. Making love. More than anything. But after everything you’ve been through the last two days, I just… I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Oll. I am.” At my raised eyebrows, she gives me a sheepish look. “Well. Mostly.”
“Can we just…” I crack open my chest and pull my heart out, ready to hand it over. “For me, Shea. I need to know you’re okay. That you’ve eaten and you’re rested and those drugs still aren’t in your body. Please don’t think I’m rejecting you. I’m not. Once those shadows”—I brush my thumb across the dark smudges under her eyes—“are gone, and you’ve had some time to settle in, we will definitely make love. Many times.”
A few seconds go by as Shea studies me, not frowning, but not smiling, either.
Then she kisses me lightly. “Okay. I get it. If our positions were flipped, I’d want to make sure you’re okay, too.” A pause, and then, fiercely, “But I’m not waiting long. Because then I will feel rejected.”
“Never.” Threading my hand through her hair, I cup the back of her head and kiss her again. “I’m not. And I won’t. I promise.”
Her lips twitch. “Not like that time in Ocean City, right?”
“Like what ti—” Oh. Right. The romantic weekend getaway for our one-year anniversary that turned out to be anything but. “I wouldn’t really say I rejected you, Shea.”
“Well, it was our anniversary, and I bought all that sexy lingerie. Plus, the edible massage oil—” She stops and widens her eyes hopefully. “Can we get some more of that? For when we do make love?”
And there it goes again. Right back at attention.
Sternly commanding my body to stand down, I reply, “Definitely. We’ll order it tonight.” Then I add, “And for the record, we didn’t have sex that weekend because we literally couldn’t sleep on the bed. That was one of the worst places I’ve ever stayed, and that’s saying a lot.”
Shea laughs. “It looked nice online. How was I to know those were old pictures?”
“You mean pictures from twenty years ago, more like.”
“Maybe.” She snuggles against me. “It was a memorable trip, though. Sleeping out on the beach because it was cleaner than our hotel room. And trying to shower without touching anything.”
“It was memorable,” I agree. “But I wouldn’t have done it any differently. It was special because I was with you.”
“Oliver.”
Sadness touches her features, and I just know she’s thinking about the time we lost.
“No, Shea. Don’t feel bad.” Framing her cheek with my hand, I hold her gaze. “We’re together. And we’re going to go on more trips. Make new memories. That’s the important thing.”
After a silent moment, she gives me a little nod. The sadness in her eyes fades. With a smile, she says, “You’re right. We have lots of new memories to make. And I can’t wait.”
My heart.
Only Shea can make it feel this way.
“I can’t wait, either.”
And in my head, the words I’m still waiting to say.
I still love you. I never stopped.