35. Chapter 35 #2
A suit I know for a fact Oliver owns; I had a vivid memory of every suit he owned hanging in his closet; it was undoubtedly the same one I’m confident he packed on Thursday night after I put the laundry away.
My heart stops, and my ears start to ring so loudly I don’t hear the click of the front door opening.
My legs kick in before my brain can catch up, and I leg it to the door. My heart aches in relief seeing the hallway light flicker on and the oxygen refills my lungs as my eyes zero in on the very suit I just saw on TV, only this one is worn by someone very much alive.
I sprint down the hall and crash into him.
Being a whole foot taller than me, the giant of a man stumbles against the door, and his hands grip my waist to steady himself as I sob against him. Barely able to breathe, but I cage my arms around his middle in bliss; he’s standing before me.
“Oh, Thank God, Oliver!!” I cry with tears of happiness. “Thank God! I was so worried when you didn’t answer the phone that-” my words are cut off by an unflattering smell flooding my senses. Not his intoxicating cologne, I love to drown myself in; it’s the smell of alcohol.
I slowly step back to see his car keys clutched in his hand; the suit that is usually pristine and freshly pressed is crumpled, with the shirt hanging out, the collar popped upwards, and his tie hanging halfway down. His hands fall away from me to tousle his hair.
He’s…
Oliver is drunk.
So drunk, he can barely look at me.
“Oliver, have you been drinking?!” I blurt in disbelief.
“Y-Yes.” He slurs back sarcastically, waving his hands over his body. Obnoxiously pointing out the obvious as I suck in a breath.
“P…please tell me you didn’t drink and drive. A-and you’re meant to still be in Seattle for-” I try to say, but he ignores my presence and stumbles past me towards the kitchen.
“Oliver, I’m talking to you!” I snap, hot on his trail.
“You said don’t tell you, so I won’t.” He grumbles, reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water.
“Oliver, are you crazy?! Do you know how dangerous it is to drive while drunk? People could die-” I pause to clutch my hands to my head, willing away the thoughts of my parents that flash in my mind.
“Where have you been? Why weren’t you picking up your phone?” I ask him in a calmer tone, taking another deep breath.
“H-had a-” He pauses to hiccup or burp, I’m not sure which, but he’s shit faced. “D-drink with my old friend, and will you calm down, the airport isn’t even that far.” He brushes off his careless actions.
“You drove here from the airport?!” I yell. I can’t even imagine how fast he could have been going or what could have happened during the forty-minute drive it took him to get home from Gatwick Airport.
“Will you keep it down! You’re gonna wake my kid.” He spat at me, leaning on the counter with his hands faced down in front of him.
“Wake him, wake him?” I scoff. “Excuse me, but who’s had to deal with his hour-and-a-half tantrum because he got overstimulated that his brother wasn’t answering his phone, refusing to go to bed because you didn’t call to say goodnight like you always do, so don’t you talk to me about waking him, you drunk bastard,” I growl, throwing my hands in the air.
I can’t believe this.
Here I was fearing this man was dead, and he was out getting hammered. My body was bubbling over with emotions, ready to explode, losing control and needing out.
“Shit, I forgot about that because I was-” Oliver mumbles to himself, rubbing his face, raking his hands back into his hair. “Drinking with an old friend,” he sighs, making me want to punch him in his stupid face.
“Regardless of where you were, you didn’t think to call or at least let me know you were coming home, or that you were even back in the country,” I rant, pacing back and forth, the movement making him dizzy from watching me.
I have never seen Oliver drunk before, and that alone made this whole situation worse. He wasn’t injured or caught in the middle of a shooting; he was home, drunk as a skunk. Barely able to piece words together and acting so far out of character - I don’t even recognise him.
But he’s still talking to me like I’m nothing. It’s funny that he can remember to do that, but has no idea what he just put me through, all of it. Ever since his mother came to visit, Oliver has been determined to set everything good in his life on fire, as if it were to spite her.
And though it hurts me to see him this way, I don’t want to be a pawn in this game.
The Oliver I know, who’s grumpy and clingy, isn’t afraid to talk to me or sacrifice sleep to give me as many orgasms as possible and still show up when he knows he’s needed.
Someone who spent his mornings with me during pillow talk, held me tightly and laughed along with me at the inappropriate things my Gran does in her old age.
That Oliver?
He’s nowhere to be found.
The man in front of me is a stranger, walking around with different versions of himself, carrying a mountain worth of baggage he’s choosing to carry, and I can no longer see the side of him I fell in love with.
Macy was right, I am fighting a two-person fight, and I can’t keep this up. I lived for another person in the past, and I’m sure as hell I won’t do it again.
“Aren’t you overreacting a tad? I got home fine, and I’ll apologise to Theo in the morning.” Are the words that bring back my thoughts, igniting the rage in my stomach.
I take a deep breath and speak as calmly as I can muster.
“Have you even checked your phone since you got back here?” Watching him sluggishly pull his phone out of his pocket, blinking a few times so he can focus on the black screen in front of him.
His phone is dead, and he didn’t even know. Had he paid attention and not been so reckless, he’d see the various text messages, calls, voicemails, and emails I’d sent him over the past six hours.
“Overreacting, you say? Have you seen the news? Do you know what happened in Seattle? And where’s Nigel?” I fire at him without an opportunity for him to get a word in.
“Of course, you can’t answer any of those questions. You would have let me know you were okay or that you arrived back early, would be out with a friend and driving home drunk like a fucking idiot and not dead in a ditch somewhere,”
“Okay, God, I’m sorry. Alright?” He grumbles, but there’s no sincerity in his voice.
“Are you, Oliver?”
“You know what? No. Actually, I’m not, and do you know why?” He snaps, throwing his arms out into the air, then slapping his chest like a gorilla.
“Because you’re not my nanny, you’re Theo’s. The only person whose whereabouts you need to know about is his. So don’t badger me about my business.” He growls, giving me a look I haven’t seen in quite some time.
His eyebrows tilted downwards, his mouth slanted to one side, and his eyes were masked with anger. His famous Surly Bastard scowl - the bully in him makes an appearance, but little does he know I’m not gonna be willed into submission, not anymore.
“A grown fucking man would answer his phone, and it’s okay for you to step out of line but not for me?”
Words that make him fall silent.
“It’s okay for you to break the fraternising section of our contract when you kissed me or fucked me in your office all those weeks ago. Or no, here’s a good one. It’s not okay for me to care about your whereabouts, but is it okay for you to outright call me a whore?”
Bringing up old roots isn’t something I tend to do; that situation still makes me laugh, but right now it helps me prove my point. I’d hit my limit. I was tired, frustrated and still terrified with everything that’s been going on - much like Macy predicted, shit had finally hit the fan.
The air between us thickens, becomes less breathable as the silence hangs in the air, but it does sober him up a tad, while his jaw ticks in anger.
“Whatever we’ve done is outside of your contract; you wouldn’t sign one, remember? You are Theo’s nanny, first and foremost, so he is your only concern, nothing more, nothing less.” He recites, pushing off the fridge, walks past me and heads for the door.
I get it now.
Everything that has happened between Oliver and me wasn’t real, and I was the only one trying to convince myself otherwise.
Without a legal document to say so, I meant nothing to Oliver.
Nor did the life-changing sex, the heart-to-hearts or the memories we made, because the only person who saw this transitioning into a real relationship… was me.
But instead, it really wasn’t real; without a legal document, Oliver didn’t consider us official; what we had was nothing but convenient.
This thing between us was never going to be anything more than astronomically amazing sex and a few meaningful conversations, because in the end, the only one who considered the past few weeks a relationship… was me.
“I understand,” nodding, making him stop in the doorway.
“I’m not quite qualified to be one of Oliver’s Calendar girls, but I am good enough to play with as you please, so long as my duties as the live-in nanny are fulfilled.
I’m just your dirty little secret behind closed doors.
” I recite, pushing away the tears, but the catch of my bottom lip between my teeth makes Oliver step into my space, and I avoid his gaze, playing through every mistake I’ve made since stepping into this house.
“I have no idea what is wrong with you today, but I’m about to be heavily hungover. Let’s just go to bed, and we’ll talk about this tomorrow.” He huffs out, reaching out to touch my shoulders, but I step out of his reach.
He sighs in frustration as a response.
“For God’s sake, I’m pissed out of my head right now. I’ve had a long fucking day. What the hell do you want from me, Luna?!” He snaps as if this is all my fault.
And maybe…it was.
In the same way, if my parents needed to pick me up that night, they wouldn’t have died in that car crash. Had I not asked Ji-ji to make a stop on his way home, he wouldn’t have had a heart attack and died alone.