Chapter Twenty-Three
Liam
The moment Olivia and I step inside the house, the tight knot in my chest eases. I inhale quietly, savoring the peace and quiet and the aroma of the food we’re carrying.
“Home sweet home,” she says, toeing off her heels.
Hearing her call this place “home” soothes the raw burn in my heart from dealing with my parents. Unnecessary. An extra. Nice to have, but not much of a loss if not around.
It never hurt this badly. But when they did it in front of Olivia, I suddenly became terrified that she might start to see me the way they do. If she hadn’t held my hand, I might’ve run out.
She sets her bag on the table facing the night ocean. “Perrier good?” she asks over her shoulder as she heads to the fridge.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I put my bag down next to hers and open it up.
Manny’s Tacos added paper plates, God bless them.
I pull out fish tacos for her and birria for me.
The server bagged the meat and tortillas separately, to avoid making a mess, with the consommé in a cup.
The Mexican American family who owns the place knows good food that fills your belly and puts happiness in your heart.
Olivia sets two green cans on the table, then sits next to me. She bites into hers, then practically hums with pleasure. “Oooh, this is good. I was so hungry.” She takes another big bite. “How did you get so big and tall eating with them?”
“They weren’t around much. And when they were…” I dip my birria taco into the consommé and chew methodically. “They’re my family. It’s just the way it is.”
She stares at me. “Are they always like that?”
I shake my head. “Not all the time. When my brothers are around, they’re better. Mom and Dad in particular don’t really act out in front of Rhys—you know, my oldest brother.”
“Good. I was wondering if anybody ever spoke up for you.” She polishes off the first taco, then pops the Perrier can.
“What do you mean?”
“Just the way they treated you and talked to you. It was so disrespectful. They’re not entitled to do that to you just because they’re your parents. You should demand more.” She smacks her small fist on the table.
I smile at her outrage. She means well, but I don’t know how to tell her that a child who’s unwanted doesn’t even have the right to demand space for himself. The space he’s occupying right then might disappear anytime without any warning.
Intellectually, I understand that I don’t need to beg for my own space. I’ve built a successful business, and I own a beautiful home most would envy. But a sharp pain slices between my ribs like a shiv every time I’m reminded of what my parents think of me.
I pop my Perrier and take a sip. “Anyway, how did you prepare all that stuff? I didn’t expect you to have such fancy gifts on hand. Grandma isn’t exactly easy to impress.”
Olivia smiles. “Of course you didn’t, because I never told you. After you decided to be my husband, and agreed to the courthouse wedding, I figured I needed to do something to smooth their ruffled feathers. Your parents are lucky I didn’t slap them silly, though.”
“No way.” I can’t imagine somebody as sweet as my wife unleashing violence on my parents, no matter how obnoxious and ridiculous they are.
Her eyes cool. “They weren’t nice to you, and I refuse to reward them with anything approaching what I gave Sorcha and Cedric. And they don’t need to know that our first child will be a Whitmore and not a Kingswood. They can just find out later and weep.”
I chuckle softly. Knowing that somebody other than my brothers is willing to go to bat for me stops the bleeding in my heart.
Who would’ve thought that Olivia, who said our union wasn’t about love, would feel this way?
Does this mean her stance on our marriage is changing, too?
Difficult to tell what’s churning under those cool, intelligent eyes of hers.
I suddenly realize that there are many things I don’t know about her. “Hey, Olivia?”
“Mmm?” she says around a bite.
“Since we were apart for so long after college, what do you think about having some date nights? You know.” I clear my throat. “Like a real couple.”
She pauses in the middle of chewing for a moment, then swallows. “We’re too busy for that.”
I shrug. “We can make the time.”
Her eyebrows pinch together.
I don’t want her to turn me down and act like she doesn’t have any interest in me beyond what we have right now.
I don’t know how long this marriage will last or what Olivia ultimately wants—other than a baby—but I need more.
It’s unfair to her that I want to change the terms of our marriage, but I can’t help how I feel.
And it’s getting worse the longer we’re together.
I don’t know how to explain it without scaring her.
But for now, I just want her to say yes.
Hiding the desperation curling around my gut, I casually dip a taco into the consommé. “Otherwise, I’m going to feel like some kind of sperm dispenser.”
She laughs. “Oh my God, you are not.” She pauses. “Wait, I don’t treat you like that, do I? I don’t make you feel like an object in this marriage, right?”
My anxiety loosens slightly. “That’s not really what I’m saying. Look, I just want to spend time with you and get to know you better, that’s all.” I want a chance to convince you our marriage can last.
“Okay, that’s just playing dirty. You have to stop.”
I frown. “What?”
“You’re looking at me with those shiny puppy-dog eyes.”
I continue to peer at her.
“Makes it impossible to say no.”
I burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
My shoulders continue to shake.
“You’re worse than a puppy!”
“I’ll be a very happy puppy if we get to have date nights occasionally.”
“And persistent,” she says, sighing. “All right, fine.”
“Perfect.” I kiss her cheek. “Then we’ll go to La Mer for our first.”
“Why there?”
“Because you like seafood.”
Her eyebrows jump.
I continue, “You ate every bite of the sea bream Frederich made for our wedding dinner, and sole was the only thing you touched at Grandma’s place. And now you’re eating fish tacos.”
“Okay, Sherlock. Yes, fine, I love seafood. But most people don’t notice. Not even Hugh. He thinks I love beef, probably because he likes it.”
My face scrunches. “Ugh. What kind of father is he, anyway?”
A ghost of a smile flits across her face. “Guess we both drew shitty lots when it came to fathers. But La Mer has a long waiting list. Do you really want to schedule our first date to be months from now?”
I smile. Could she actually be looking forward to the date? “Don’t worry about it. I have a connection.”
“You sure it’s going to work? I heard they don’t even let rich people cut ahead.”
“Yeah, but that’s them. And I’m me.”
“All right. If you say so.” She pauses, then gives me a warm smile. “I’m actually kind of excited about this date—and a chance to get to know you better.”
I smile back. My parents can call me whatever they want, but I matter to Olivia, and that’s enough for me. “Yeah, me too.”