CHAPTER 32
Asher
W ell, well, well.
Miss “I Have a Plan for Everything” is totally fucking winging it, and when she made that conscious choice to lie to her parents, it was like a switch flipped for me.
I should be given an Academy Award for holding it together when her father said we’re in love, because now Olivia’s gone and done it.
The battle that wages in me constantly settled out completely when I realized Olivia had made the decision to put us in this false relationship, and now there’s no going back.
She watches me cautiously—she has no idea I’m on board with this plan—but her expression feels like I’m her anchor in this storm. Which is exactly what breaks through my carefully crafted armor.
Sitting across from her parents, I brace myself for the twenty questions Olivia warned me would follow as we eat.
I can’t say for sure, but I’m guessing she couldn’t bring herself to tell her mom and dad, the epitome of old-fashioned tradition, the truth about our situation.
Not to mention every local in the place has their eyes on us right now.
“So, Asher, Olivia’s place is in shambles right now.
Is your home in town?” Ken asks me in friendly conversation.
I look at Olivia; her eyes are pleading, her cheeks rosy.
She’s told her parents we’re in love. And wouldn’t that mean that the best place for the woman I love and our child to stay is in my home, with me?
The answer isn’t even a fight.
“We can make a nice home at my place.” I pop a bite of this damn good lasagna into my mouth as I feel nails dig into my thigh. “I have a good chunk of land just on the outskirts of town, plenty of room inside and out.” I grunt under my breath to stop myself from wincing as Olivia squeezes harder.
“We didn’t decide on that a hundred percent yet, remember?” Olivia hisses. I turn to face her as I swallow.
“I remember, kitten. ” Now I’m just fucking with her. But I don’t miss the way her mouth falls open when I call her the nickname that suits her to a fucking T. “My house really is the safest place for you and the baby.”
“Did you hear that, Ken? Kitten? ” Lynne gushes. “Oh … our baby’s in love.”
Olivia and I keep our eyes locked on each other, and I smirk. The lady on the other side of Liv appears to be leaning in, listening for gossip. So I double down.
“All that land to roam, fresh air, Duke to protect you when I’m at work. You were just saying how peaceful it is.”
“Well, that sounds lovely,” Ken pipes up. “Who’s Duke?”
“He’s my cane corso, my best friend, and he’s tough as hell.” I pull my phone out and show Ken a photo.
“Ah, nice-looking dog. You can tell a lot about a man by his choice of pet.”
“You have Dick too,” Olivia blurts out. Her mother’s mouth falls open and the lady next to them drops her fork. I try to swallow my smirk.
“Excuse me?” Ken says, looking between us as Olivia turns a bright shade of pink.
“His cat … Dick,” she tells them.
“The barn cat,” I correct.
“Yes, darling. But remember you said he can come inside the house more since it’s so hot out lately?” She cocks her head and gives me a “fuck you” with her eyes. Now she’s playing hardball, but Christ if I don’t want to kiss the fuck out of her right now.
“Hmm, I don’t remember that.” I take another bite and address her parents. “Olivia has taken a liking to him. He just showed up on my property a few months ago. But, for the record, he is a dick.”
“Cats aren’t my animal either.” Ken chuckles as I side-eye Olivia. “But what Olivia wants … she usually gets. And your place sounds like the perfect space to start a family.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” I turn to Olivia with a wide grin, feeling way too amused by all of this. I like the idea of her moving in way too much for our friendly pact, but I’m not backing down now.
“Right?” I coax.
“I suppose it is,” Olivia grits out through clenched teeth as I feel her hand slide a little higher up my thigh and squeeze the muscle. Hard.
Definitely don’t hate that. I reach my hand under the table and pat hers.
I push the warning voice in my head aside—because I’m quickly losing my will to fight—and Olivia just keeps on stumbling into my corner even when I try to keep her at arm’s length.
We spend the rest of the dinner answering all their questions: when the baby’s due, what each of us think the sex is.
We talk about Olivia’s reno and my job, and by the time we’re done Olivia seems more relaxed, especially when she sees how happy and supportive her parents are about our “we’re a couple” ruse.
I’m sure it’s a huge load off her shoulders that I’m in her parents’ good books already.
They’re a little tipsy by the end of the night, telling us stories about when Olivia was young, and I watch her blush as her parents talk about her childhood.
The slow, steady creep of pink that moves up her throat reminds me of other scenarios, which has me gripping the table to stop myself from reaching out and grabbing her.
I haven’t even finished my first beer, but I’m almost drunk on Olivia as she talks.
Her closeness with her parents makes it clear why she cares so much about what they think, and for the first time in my life, a flash of want courses through me.
I want to sit at a table with my son or daughter in thirty years and talk about their childhood.
But the voice in my head stops that dream in its tracks: Men in my family don’t get that lucky.
The stories continue as we drive them home, and when we sit down to eat Olivia’s red velvet cupcakes, which are bakery-worthy delicious.
Her parents tell me about how Olivia always had a wild imagination and could be found out in the yard with the boys from the neighborhood, leaving the girls behind as she chased butterflies, or climbed trees, in only her bare feet.
Then they tell me about her teenage years, when she fell in love with sewing and making clothing from old sheets or, once, from a set of curtains.
By the end of the night, we’ve even settled on a four-way wager about the sex of the baby.
Ken is with me and thinks we’re having a girl—he says he’s always imagined he’d have a granddaughter—and Lynn is with Olivia in thinking the baby is a boy.
Everything is easy, happy, and full, and as we ready to say our goodbyes, I’m in an odd state of acceptance.
I have no right to want Olivia. And she wants to keep things platonic and uncomplicated for the child she’s growing. But, despite knowing all of that, as I sit here breathing, I know my home is exactly where Olivia and our baby belong.