Chapter 6 Olivia
SIX
OLIVIA
Ican’t breathe. Every time I try to fill my lungs I’m forced to remember his smell. His taste. The feel of him as he wraps around my body and envelops me entirely.
Flashes of the night in Vegas run through my mind. Of him holding me in the same way, except we’re not dancing, we’re in front of a guy dressed like Elvis saying our vows. I remember the kiss that night, so similar to the one we just shared, just as reverent and soft and all-consuming.
I draw in another breath, coming to a stop beside the truck, and close my eyes.
In the darkness behind my eyelids, I’m not alone.
I feel myself slipping into a different memory, one I’ve previously tried to hold on to yet also push aside.
One that stars Christopher’s father hovering above me, his features blending into the stars.
Only now, his face isn’t the crescent moon that’d watched over us that night.
Now, his face is replaced with Ford’s.
Hands, warm and calloused and familiar, cup my cheeks lightly. “Olivia?”
My breath shudders from my lips as I peel my eyes open. Ford watches me, concern bleeding into his dark eyes. He doesn’t release me, but he also doesn’t come any closer. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not. I should feel relief, and yet…
And yet I yearn for his touch, for his comfort, more than anything right now.
I swallow hard. “I’m sorry.”
Ford shakes his head gently. “What happened in there?”
My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat. “I don’t think I can make this work. Not how you want me to, Ford. I’m not…I’m not ready for what you want. I don’t think I’ll ever be. I have other responsibilities, and I can’t—” I can’t bring you into it.
And I can’t let him hurt me—or Christopher.
Ford bows his head in a nod as he releases me. I don’t feel good about it, though.
I wrap my arms around myself. “There’s something you need to know about me,” I whisper.
“Something important. And I think it’ll change how you go about the rest of today.
” Maybe even change how he views this marriage.
Because if he isn’t sure about kids now, what will he do when he learns I have one? That Chris might be his?
He stares at me for a long moment before sighing. “We’ve met before, haven’t we? Before Vegas. In a bar with a bucking bull.”
My mouth goes dry, but somehow, I find the strength to nod. “It was you?”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “I’m assuming that means you remember stealing my cowboy hat.”
Tears sting my eyes, making my vision watery. I slump into the hood of the truck with a short, surprised laugh. “I remember the hat. And you. I always remembered you.”
And I still carry a reminder of him with me. Oh, God. I have no choice now. I have to tell him.
“Wait,” I murmur, glancing at him. “Am I the woman you have a vendetta against?”
At that, Ford grins. “I don’t think I’ve forgiven you for leaving me that night.”
“I wish I hadn’t,” I reply, my stomach in knots, bile in my throat.
How the hell am I supposed to tell him about Christopher? Now that I know for certain it is him, how does one mention they have a son they didn’t know about?
I keep replaying our conversation about children over in my head. He’d seemed so distant and uncertain. He won’t commit to them, is what I got from the conversation, which is so…
Defeating.
Ford crosses his arms. “Well, I spent the entire next day unable to get you out of my mind. Or the following months, really.”
“I would have found you if I knew anything else about you,” I murmur, heart pounding.
“You were looking for me?” he asks softly, surprised.
A lump catches in my throat, making it difficult to breathe. “Yeah.”
What looks like relief fills his expression, and his smile widens. “Then Vegas was meant to be, darlin’. How can you deny that?”
God, I want to puke. “I can’t, not really,” I murmur.
Before I can mention our son, Ford kicks the toe of his boot into the dirt.
“I was going to take you into Saddlehorn to the bar there. They have a bucking bull. I wanted to see if you’d remember it—us.
” His grin grows as he takes a step towards me.
“Now, I think I might have to come up with something else to do. Since I doubt you want to go back in there, you want a private tour of the ranch?”
I know I should tell him. I have no reason not to, but I need to get a better feel for his reaction, so I nod. “Sure.”
The truth is lodged in my throat the entire drive around Wild Vista Ranch. I can’t take in the beauty or how peaceful it is without the intense guilt overshadowing everything. The secret that is my baby weighs heavily on my shoulders, sinking me further and further into my seat.
It’s not that I don’t think he wouldn’t be a great father. The gentleness and the excitement that exudes from him tells me enough about the kind of man he is.
The kind of father he could be.
But I also don’t know how he would react to finding out he has a son and the reason I want the annulment is for him. Our conversation is another weight that holds me back. He said he didn’t think he’d be worthy—what does that even mean?
Before I know it, we’re back at my cabin. Ford pulls in quietly, still smiling, like there’s still hope for us.
Now, I tell myself, drawing in a deep breath. Tell him now. Cut the cord. Give him his options. Tell him—
“I have a reservation for us at the Lodge for dinner,” he says before I can open my mouth. “At seven. I know I said I’d spend the whole day convincing you, but you look ready to drop.”
The smile is both filled with concern and hope.
The words die on my tongue. “Sorry. Today has been great so far, and I just…I have a lot to think about,” I whisper, throat tight with emotion.
His half-smile turns more hopeful, more radiant as he nods. “I’m gonna take that as a good thing, darlin’.”
I swallow hard, but the lump only grows thicker. “Why?”
“Because maybe it means you’ll still give us a chance,” he murmurs. “Take the afternoon. Think about it. About us. And I’ll come pick you up for dinner. How does that sound?”
“Good,” I whisper. “That sounds good.”
My heart races as I watch him get out and round the front of the truck to open the door for me. Bile rises in my throat, each kind move, every gentle touch, and the soft way he stares at me making the guilt worse.
And yet, I can’t make the words come. Not as he kisses the top of my head or holds my hand all the way to the door. And not even when he tells me he’ll be back.
It’s all too much—and yet, I don’t know what to do to make it better.
My hands shake as I get ready. I pull my hair back into a low ponytail to keep it out of my face, the strands irritating and overwhelming me no matter how much I try to remain calm. The dress I choose doesn’t feel right, not as it hugs my figure and the curves born of my pregnancy.
From my suitcase, I pull out a collection of polaroids from the first few weeks. My sister had been obsessed with taking them, my niece even more so. I have about a hundred images of me and Christopher from those first weeks where we were both getting used to one another in our new situation.
At first, I’d hated it. But now, I slide them into my purse to give to Ford.
He’d missed out on it all. The pregnancy, the birth, and all our firsts. He didn’t get to be there for the first ultrasound. He didn’t get to hear the heartbeat or feel Christopher moving inside me. He wasn’t there for the first contraction or that final push. And he’s never held our baby boy.
I still don’t know how he’ll react, but I resolve to tell him tonight. After dinner. I won’t spring it on him in a restaurant full of people. It will either be the best news he’s ever heard, or the reason he signs the papers.
It all hinges on tonight.
He made a bet that he would convince me to stay, to give our marriage a chance, but will he still feel the same way once he knows the truth?