38. Oliver
Oliver
I’m floating on a cloud as Lissa goes to Henry’s bedroom to check on him. Truman trots out from the living room to stand beside me.
My hands flex into a fist and back, the joy flowing through me, a new and unexpected feeling.
I’m gonna nail that fucker’s balls to the wall.
The visceral pleasure I feel at being able to get at James, to punch him where it hurts, is all-consuming. I could tell what he was from a mile away: a rich, entitled asshole who thinks he can treat people the way he wants because he has money.
Well, he’s about to learn all about the Oliver Heath School of Hard Knocks. I won’t let him hurt her. Ever again.
I stand beside Truman in the hallway, listening to Lissa’s quiet movements inside the room.
All of a sudden, my entire body goes still, a wave of unease seeping through me. Doors I believed were firmly closed have begun opening.
You’re an idiot to think this thing with Lissa will ever work.
I’ve lived my life alone. The only person I have ever been truly close to is my mother. I care a great deal about Adelaide, of course, but it’s a working relationship.
Lissa will never truly want me. Not in the way that I want her.
The parameters of how we met are so blurred and confusing that I don’t quite know how to define what we have. But I’m sure she doesn’t love me.
Who in the world would ever love me?
I stare at the doorway, frozen with indecision.
This is stupid. Everything about my offer, getting involved in her life, and pulling her deeper into mine is beyond foolish. But I can’t seem to stop.
I close my eyes, the shame of how we met tugging at me. I wish it had been somewhere else. Anywhere else. I could have gotten to know her for real, spent time with her outside of my twisted, perverse way of being.
I open my eyes again and find her watching me from the doorway.
“Are you alright?” she asks, frowning at me as I nod automatically, bending down to pick up the dog, hoping that the gamut of emotions I am feeling isn’t written all over my face.
I walk to the doorway, towering above her as I peek inside.
Henry is smack dab in the middle of the bed with his arms out to either side.
“I’ll need to try and shift him onto his side so I can get in next to him,” Lissa says. “He's been sleeping on his back a lot since the surgery.”
“Don’t wake him,” I whisper. “You can come and sleep in my room.”
My hands clutch at Truman as those words leave my mouth.
Did I just invite her to sleep in my bed?
Lissa’s brow furrows as she looks at her son’s sleeping body, and then she nods, slowly.
“Are you sure?”
No. What the hell am I doing?
“Yes. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
I turn around, holding the dog tightly to my chest as I try to process what it is I’ve offered. This makes no sense, but I’m not going to backpedal on the offer at this point.
I walk down the hallway to my bedroom, which is on the same floor as the guest room. Lissa’s eyes widen as she comes in behind me, staring at my bed and the huge windows letting in a hazy light as the snowflakes continue to fall.
“This room is beautiful,” Lissa says, her voice wavering slightly.
“You don’t have to sleep here if you don’t want to,” I blurt out and expect her to sigh with relief and turn back to her son’s room, but instead she looks up at me, those wide eyes curious.
“Where would you prefer me to be?”
At my side for the rest of my life.
“Here.” I bite my tongue as I lower Truman to the floor. The little menace jumps up on the bed, even though he knows he isn’t allowed to, perhaps discovering that I’m a soft touch when Lissa is around.
“Get down,” I say firmly, and Truman lowers on his haunches and sits very primly on the comforter. Lissa snorts softly beside me.
“Truman wants to sleep on the bed too, it seems,” she says tenderly, and I roll my eyes.
“He’s so spoiled. But this is worse than usual.”
I walk over to the dog, glaring down at him as he pants up at me, but I don’t have the heart to move him. Rubbing my palm over my forehead, I push down the frustration at my own weakness.
What is wrong with me today?
“I have a spare toothbrush,” I say, nodding toward the bathroom. “Would you like a shower?”
A vivid image of her body arched on the hood of my car flits through my mind as she nods awkwardly.
“There are towels inside on the left. And some different body washes and shampoos in the cabinet. Use anything you like.”
She walks to the bathroom and stops.
“Holy hell.”
It’s such an odd exclamation from her that I walk up behind her, looking inside to see if there’s something amiss. But it’s the same as it always is.
“This is the most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen.”
I frown down at her as she walks inside.
The black marble and gold accents always felt ostentatious to me.
I had it done when I first moved in, when I thought gold and black were ‘classy’.
If I had to do it over, I would probably choose grays and silvers, but Lissa’s approval is evident as she spins around.
“This is bigger than my whole apartment,” she says, laughing softly. “Look at the shower! It’s the size of the Empire State Building!”
I can’t help laughing at her as she flits about excitedly, exclaiming at the bathtub and groaning as she bends over it.
“Wow. That looks amazing.”
“Would you like a bath instead?”
“Oh no,” she says quickly. “No. It’s far too late.”
I shake my head. “Not at all. You should definitely do it if you want to.”
She looks over at me, her eyes shining. “You wouldn’t mind? I haven’t had a bath in way too long and I totally adore a good soak.”
“Then a good soak you shall have. I’ll turn it on for you, and you can adjust the temperature. There are bath salts and a couple of other things in the basket there.”
I’d just bought these items recently with the thought that maybe someday, if Lissa were here with me, she might want them.
“Thank you, Oliver,” she says, beaming at me, making my insides lurch unhelpfully.
“Enjoy,” I force out. “And soak as long as you’d like.”
I need to leave before I jump in there with you.
She’s practically vibrating with glee as I leave her to it, pulling the door almost closed behind me.
I glance over at Truman, where he’s now sprawled on the bed, just like Henry, and glower at him as I go to retrieve my book and glasses from the bedside.
Truman cracks one eye open as I hear the water start running. He watches me warily, no doubt expecting to be pushed off the bed, but his fur is almost the exact same shade as the comforter, and I let him be, enjoying how coordinated and comfortable he looks.
As I pass the gap in the bathroom door on the way out of the bedroom, I catch a glimpse of Lissa disrobing inside and swiftly look away.
Lissa takes me at my word and luxuriates in the bath for almost forty minutes. I make an herbal tea, convincing myself I’m not waiting for her to come to bed, even though it’s obvious I am.
It’s late, and I’m usually asleep by this time, but I can’t settle.
Even the sound of her moving around in the bathtub is enough to have my cock at half-mast. I frown down at it irritably as it rises to attention when she steps out into the bedroom with a towel around her body, holding onto my clothes that she was wearing before her bath.
She looks panicked for a second, glancing back at the bathroom door.
I hide a smile as she puts the shirt on before pulling the towel out from underneath as if I’ve never seen her naked body.
She turns, looking over me quizzically, and I raise an eyebrow. “What’s the problem?”
“No problem. I just haven’t seen you in casual clothes before.”
I glance down at the T-shirt and loose shorts I wear to bed. “I suppose you haven’t. I stopped wearing suits to bed; they’re too itchy.”
She laughs, approaching the bed. It’s absurd how awkward we both are. I’ve been deep inside this woman dozens of times, and yet it’s as if we’ve never met.
I tug the covers back, and she climbs in, tiny in the bed, my shirt engulfing her. I place my glasses on top of my book and put them beside my bed, turning off the light as we both stare at the snow falling past the window.
“Do you think we’ll be able to get to work in the morning?” she asks.
“Yes. But we might need to leave early.”
“Won’t people notice if we arrive together?”
“Maybe. But I’ll deal with all of that. Don’t worry. Where will Henry go tomorrow when you’re at work?”
“I have a wonderful sitter named Jenna. She’ll watch him since he isn’t ready to go back to school yet. If we can drop him off first, that would be amazing. It’ll be nice not to take the bus for once.”
“Do you think Henry will be okay with the sitter? You know you can take tomorrow off if you need to.”
“Oh, he’ll be fine. He can just rest all day in her guest room and watch cartoons. He’s getting his energy back quickly and is doing so much better.”
“Does she feed him well?” I ask, thinking maybe we could stop by a grocery store on the way to the sitter’s place to buy him some food.
“Yes, she makes him all the foods he loves—mac and cheese, hot dogs, peanut butter and jelly. And she’s really good at getting some veggies and fruits into him as well. Better than I am, sometimes,” she giggles.
She snuggles down beneath the sheets, too far away from me. The distance between us is aggravating, and I’m about to do something about it when she scoots closer.
“If you can’t find me in the morning, send out a search patrol,” she murmurs, and I smile, lying back against the pillow, looking into her stormy-blue eyes and itching to touch her.
“Is Henry a good sleeper?” I ask.
“Usually. Sometimes he has nightmares. But if he wakes up and can’t find me, he’ll call for me.”
“I’ll wake you if I hear him,” I say just as Truman tentatively jumps up on the bed, looking at me hopefully. “Absolutely not,” I say, and he reluctantly gets down onto the ottoman at the end of the bed.
“Poor Truman,” Lissa says sadly as she watches him settle down, and with a growl of exasperation, I pull her against my body.
“Hm, well, he’ll just get in the way,” I say curtly.