CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE PAST
“It will be alright,” Oliver said softly, running a hand down my spine.
I swallowed back tears, but my sight was blurry, and I couldn’t read the letter anymore. Not that I wanted to. Dejected, I folded up my rejection letter and placed it on the kitchen counter. I didn’t speak for some time as I tried to get rid of the lump in my throat.
Oliver sat on the stool next to me, his hand warm and doting on my back. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
A tear slipped out, and I quickly caught it, shaking my head. “It’s okay. It was stupid to hope.”
“Don’t say that.”
I shrugged. “Hundreds of people applied. They were only accepting a handful of us. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”
I’d gotten A’s on everything except for my math.
I’d even scored fourth quartile on my CASPER test. I had references and a heart-wrenching letter.
I’d been vulnerable in that letter, telling the faculty all I’d endured to get to this point.
The endless hours studying in the library, the sacrifices I made to make that happen.
I really wanted to get into that nursing program.
“I thought I had it all planned,” I continued, broken. “I’m in a Uni town and…I thought it would be amazing to get ahead right here.”
Oliver listened to me attentively. “It’s truly unfortunate, after all your hard work, but think of this: going to that school led you to me, and now we’re married, and we’re happy, aren’t we?”
I nodded, swiping away another tear as I smiled at him. “Of course. I’m so happy. But I’m also sad about it.”
“You shouldn’t be,” he said heartily. “We have so much going for us. I told you I’d take care of you and Rowe, and I’m doing that. What do you even need this program for anyway?”
I looked at him. Oliver was shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray suit pants.
His hair was still groomed back, but I could tell he’d run his hand through it many times, as strands stuck out.
He’d been doing so much work at the Uni, I forgot that he was under so much stress, and now he was deeply concerned for me.
“I just wanted to feel accomplished,” I tried to explain. “Like, to have a plan and then see it play out, and this…it’s what I’ve worked so hard for. I want to be able to provide for Rowe, too, and…just know that I can stand on my own two feet and bring something to the table.”
Oliver nodded. “I understand, Daisy, but plans change, and we have to adapt to the new way of things. And this…” He picked up the piece of paper and suddenly crumpled it into the palm of his hand.
My heart jumped, and I almost protested. A fresh wave of tears formed. I would have liked to have read it over and over again, just to let it sink in.
Oliver caught my look and shook his head. “Sweetheart, this is poison. What’s done is done. You don’t need this to bring you down. You’ve read it once, and that’s enough.”
I tried to nod, but I still stared at the paper. He flung it across the room, and it fell into the sink. I wanted to race to it, pull it out and keep it, but Oliver was already standing up and taking my hand into his.
“If you had gone, it would have taken you away from being here. Those hours are long at the Uni, and I thought…” His words paused, his smile fading.
“You thought what?” I prodded.
He looked down at our hands. “Well…I’m sad about your rejection letter, but…I’m also hopeful that maybe this gives us an opportunity to take the next step.”
I waited for him to continue, feeling confused. “We’re married.”
He nodded slowly, and his cheeks reddened. I’d never seen him so flustered. “I love being a father to Rowe.” Now he looked at me, and there was emotion in his eyes. “I’m good at it.”
I swallowed another lump. “The best. He adores you.”
“I adore him,” he said, voice laced with emotion. “I would love it if we grew our family.”
My lips parted in surprise. I stared at him for a long time. “You mean…”
He smiled hesitantly. “When you want it. I’m willing to wait. But with this rejection letter…and you being here at our home, what better time than now to try?”
Now tears were streaming down my face again, but they were from happiness. “You mean that?”
He smiled broadly. “I do.”
I leaped into his arms, and he wrapped them around me, holding me to his chest. He chuckled at my excitement. “I take that as a yes?”
I responded by kissing him deeply. “Yes, yes, yes.”
After he held me for some time, he pulled away and kissed my forehead.
“Come on,” he pressed. “Rowe’s asleep, and we’re going to have some time to ourselves to relax and unwind.
I’ll pull out your favorite wine, and you’ll put on some cringy romance movie that you love while I try to get you frisky for later. Put that letter behind us.”
I let out a laugh even as I felt hopeless at the thought of not getting into my program. He set up our drinks and threw on a movie, all the while stroking me tenderly, his kisses gentle and full of love. It just made me want to cry some more.
“How did I get you?” I whispered as he handed me my wine glass. He looked breathlessly handsome, and he loved me. He loved me so much, I could tell.
He smiled at me. “My damsel in distress needed saving.”
I nodded as he kissed my lips. “You saved me, Oliver.”
“And I’d do it again and again.”
I pulled back and brought the wine to my lips. “I love you.”
He watched me, his eyes heavy on my face. I licked the wine off my lips, and his gaze focused on my mouth. He sounded breathless when he uttered, “You are so perfect, Daisy.”
My heart didn’t hurt so much when I smiled and buried my head into his chest.
It was the pounding in my head that woke me up. I blinked my eyes open, disoriented and tired. The room was dark, and the fan was still on. I could hear the rain pattering on the window. Aside from that, it was totally silent.
I sat up slowly, groaning because the pain grew tenfold. God, how much did I drink? I tried to remember, but it was a blur. Flashes of last night raced through me. Oliver’s tender kisses, the movie, the wine…
My stomach churned with nausea, and I raced to the bathroom.
I barely made it to the toilet when I spewed, but it was mostly acidic.
My body broke out in a cold sweat as I collapsed on the floor and tried to calm down.
I was shaking and suddenly cold. My head pounded so hard, I wanted to cry.
I ran my hand over my face and tried to catch my breath.
It was then I felt pain in other places. One half of my butt hurt badly, and my neck was in agony. My throat felt like sandpaper, but that could have been from the vomit, except…I swallowed, and it felt swollen, like I was sick.
I heard the door to the bedroom open. I opened my mouth, only able to push out a weak, “Oliver.”
I heard his footsteps approaching, and then the bathroom door swung open slowly. When I saw his face, my heart beat faster. He didn’t look happy. His face was tense, his eyes red, like he’d been crying or maybe up all night.
A Band-Aid sat crookedly over a raw gash on his cheek, but it was too small to cover it.
Instantly, I realized something was wrong.
“Oliver?” His name came out in question now as I nervously looked at him.
His hair was damp, like he’d freshly showered. He was wearing a fresh change of clothes, and I could smell his cologne, but everything else was off. He wouldn’t meet my eye.
“Daisy, I don’t know what to say, alright? I’m still trying to process everything.”
Process what?
“What’s going on?” I asked, panicked. “What do you need to process?”
He let out a surprised huff, his eyes widening. “Daisy, don’t, alright?”
“Don’t what?” Tears sprang to my eyes as I hysterically asked, “What’s going on?”
He glanced over his shoulder, concerned. “Daisy, I don’t want Rowe to see you like this. Please calm down.”
I tried to, but I was failing, and now I was panting. “Why am I in so much pain? Why are you looking at me like I did something? Oliver, please, I don’t know what’s going on. Please!”
He stared at me for some time, like he was trying to gauge whether I was telling him the truth. Why would he look at me like that?
Then he stepped in and shut the door. He stared at it for a few moments, collecting his thoughts. Finally, he said, “Are you trying to tell me you don’t remember anything from last night?”
“Only that I had my wine and we put on a movie.”
He shook his head, huffing again. “Daisy, you went crazy last night. You just…flipped out.”
“What?”
“You blamed me for not getting into your nursing program—”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said they rejected you because they knew we were married, and they didn’t like that.
You weren’t making any sense, and then…then you threw the wine glass across the room and started to go crazy.
Something about how June was right and now that you’re rich because of me, they didn’t accept you because they didn’t see you as a struggling mother, and then… ”
His voice locked up, and he sounded emotional.
“You said I was privileged, that I didn’t know what it was like to be poor, and you just kept screaming it at me, Daisy, throwing stuff all over the place and then hitting yourself while you were at it.
When you stormed into the kitchen, you went to sit down on the stool and missed, and you hit the ground, whacking your damn head back so hard, I almost had a heart attack thinking you’d killed yourself. ”
Tears filled his eyes.
“But then you groaned and you moved, and that was when you started to calm down, telling me you’d made a mistake to ever want me. You fell asleep on the kitchen floor, and I…I had to pick you up and carry you here.”
Now I was vomiting again, but this time it was out of shock and disgust. My body shook so violently, I couldn’t calm myself. Tears streamed down my face. I felt like I was in a nightmare.
“I don’t remember that, Oliver…Oh, my God. Oliver, please forgive me. Oh, my God. Oh, my God…”
Oliver didn’t come to me. He just stood there, still staring at the door. “I need a minute, alright, Daisy? I just need to process.”