26. Holland
CHAPTER 2 6
Holland
D elia arrived at my office a half hour before the shower was slated to begin, and she found me staring into space from my seat behind my desk. I needed this pregnancy to be over. Combining soul-sucking heartbreak with zero sleep, too much ice cream, and feet that no longer fit into my favorite work shoes was a recipe for disaster.
“You excited?” she asked, walking into my office like the skinny, peppy person she was. I kind of hated her.
“Stop being so skinny.” I might have growled at her.
She gave me a frank look. “Uh oh. Pissy Pregnant Lady is back.” I’d been less than chipper at our last dinner together.
“She’s come to stay.”
Delia plopped herself into the chair on the other side of the desk. “It gets better. You’ll be done before you know it.”
“The pregnancy part will get better,” I agreed darkly .
Her lips quirked up on one side and she sighed. “The heartbreak will get better, too. That one just takes longer.”
I dropped my eyes, watching my fingers trace circles on top of my desk. “I’m worried I won’t be able to be happy for the baby.”
“Holl.” Delia’s sympathetic tone drew my eyes up. “Your heart is bigger and stronger than you know. Having kids changes it. I promise you’ll be perfect when the baby comes. You might still be sad, but he’ll never know. Your capacity for love will totally surprise you. I promise.”
I nodded, hoping she was right. I couldn’t imagine myself smiling again without a struggle. “Guess we better get this over with,” I said, pushing myself up out of my chair with a small groan.
“Come on, grandma.”
“I know! I’m like an old woman!”
“I remember feeling that way. It’ll be over soon.”
I stopped her as we walked toward my door, clutching her arm. “Delia, why does no one tell us about all this stuff?”
“What, pregnancy stuff?”
I nodded.
“’Cuz then no one would do it.”
“Deel. The farting .”
She laughed.
“And the heartburn . . . my God .”
“You just get to enjoy every meal twice! Make the most of it.”
I poked her in the side. “No thanks.”
“Have you taken a look at your . . . uh . . . parts? ”
“I can’t even see my feet,” I told her as we moved toward the door again.
“You’ll need a mirror.”
“What? Why would I do that?”
“Actually, no, don’t. I still haven’t gotten over that shit.” Delia grinned at me.
“Now I’m kind of curious.”
“I swear, scarred for life. Though Carl thought it was cool for some reason.”
I glared at her. “More info than I need.”
We were actually laughing as we arrived at the shower, where people meandered around the main conference room, which was hung with streamers and decorated with blue and white balloons. An incredible cake sat in the center of the table, and Pamela was busily arranging packages at the back of the room.
“Hey!” she called, straightening up when she saw me.
She greeted Delia with a hug. “Thanks for all the help planning,” she said.
“My pleasure,” Delia said. “The food should be here any second.”
On cue, a man in a white apron appeared in the doorway pushing a cart full of boxes and bowls. An incredible smell of garlic and cheese wafted in behind him, and my mouth began to water.
As the food was set up, people began streaming in, and I found myself seated at the head of the long table, a plate of food in front of me and coworkers happily chatting on every side. I actually enjoyed getting to talk to some of the people I didn’t know very well, but with whom I’d worked in the last months on the MLB deal.
For a while it was noisy and festive, everyone eating and talking, dropping by the end of the table where I sat to wish me well and congratulate me. But soon, Pamela was standing next to my chair calling for everyone’s attention. It felt a bit awkward sitting while most people stood around the long conference table, filling the room so that I couldn’t even see everyone there, but my feet got tired and swollen if I stood for long.
“Can I have your attention?” Pamela asked the quieting group. “I just wanted to thank everyone for taking time to come! Holland, will you open your gifts?”
I stood, and I could feel the embarrassed heat climbing my neck. “Thank you, everyone,” I managed to say, looking around the room. “I honestly didn’t realize I knew this many people!” I saw the guys from the sales department, developers I’d been working with on the MLB technology, a few women I knew from the legal department who’d been taking care of ironing out contract details, and so many more faces I recognized. And as the room divided to allow people to pass the packages down the long table to me, I saw Oliver standing in the doorway. He wore a serious expression, the dark eyes locked on me as if maybe he was going to put a stop to this frivolous waste of company time. I froze, unsure what to do, before I recovered myself. His secretary had planned this. Surely he knew about it. For a fleeting moment I thought how strange it must be for him to see so many of his employees celebrating his baby while he stood on the periphery.
“This is really incredible,” I said, ripping my eyes from Oliver. He’d made his choice, and I’d tried to make my peace with it. I wasn’t going to allow his dark presence to shadow what was—so far—the nicest party anyone had ever given me. I began opening the first package Delia put into my hands—from two of my coworkers in analytics—when Oliver’s familiar voice rang out above the chatter. I smiled over the pack of onesies in my hand and thanked the gift givers in quiet tones, my eyes darting to Oliver.
“I hoped I might say just a couple words,” he began. Everyone in the room hushed and turned toward him. It wasn’t his style to grandstand, and many of them had probably never heard him address a crowd unless they’d been in a meeting with him. But he was doing a bang-up job, making eye contact with everyone in the room and even smiling. I ached to stand in the radiance of that smile again, but kept my place at the far end of the table, as far from him as the room would allow.
Oliver took another step into the room. “Holland O’Dell has been an asset to Cody Technology since the day she was hired here, almost two years ago, as a sales associate. It wasn’t the most fitting position for a woman who graduated top in her graduate program in applied statistics, but Holland didn’t let that stop her. She knew what she wanted to do. She had a plan, and nothing would stand in her way. Today, Ms. O’Dell is the head of our applied analytics department, spearheading the formal relationship between sales and analytics. Though she didn’t ask for this position, she highlighted a need for it and made it clear—in her pursuit of the MLB technology and relationship—that it was necessary. And based on her insight and understanding of both our sales and our technology, it was equally clear she was the best fit for the job.
“I couldn’t be happier than to be here today to help her celebrate another new position in her life—that of mother.”
Clapping erupted around the room, but quickly faded as Oliver continued.
“I also owe Ms. O’Dell a debt of gratitude on a personal level,” he said, and my heart rate accelerated for no discernible reason. What was he going to say? “I lost my parents recently, as most of you know. And I found myself in a pretty dark place until Holland shined a light in to show me a way out.”
Oliver’s voice had lowered, taken on a hoarser tone that felt more intimate, and for a minute it felt like he was talking just to me.
“Holland is a brilliant analyst,” he said. “But she is also kind, genuine, loving, and the most honest woman I’ve ever met.” His emphasis on the word “honest” got my attention, considering that at one time he’d believed I’d been capable of a huge lie.
People around the room had begun raising eyebrows and muttering to each other. This was a decidedly un-corporate speech at this point. The rising chatter seemed to pull Oliver back to himself and he glanced around with a sheepish smile. “And I hope you’ll all forgive me for this,” he said. “But I need to ask her to forgive me, too.” He cleared his throat and looked almost nervous. I’d never seen Oliver look nervous. “I never meant to fall in love with her. I wouldn’t ever purposely fall in love with someone I work with—it certainly raises a lot of issues that are better left untouched in terms of ethics and propriety. But you can’t always choose who you love.”
“No you can’t!” someone called from the crowd. I could feel heat rising in my cheeks, and my head was beginning to swim from standing for so long.
“And for a while I let those issues—and some others—get in the way of what really matters.” Oliver’s eyes were on me again, adding to the heat glowing in my body, threatening to melt me where I stood. “Would it be possible, I wonder, if maybe I asked Holland to open my gift for the baby next?”
Everyone in the room cheered, and I felt dizzy. What the hell was he doing? What was this? I glanced at Delia, who was grinning, but whose face paled when she caught my eye. She was at my side in two seconds.
“Sit down, Holland!” She pulled my chair out and helped me into it. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
“I have no idea what’s going on right now,” I admitted. “And I’m not feeling great.”
“Not great like you think you’re about to have this baby?” she asked, her eyes going wide.
“No, like I think I might throw up. I’m so hot and dizzy. And what the hell is Oliver doing?”
Delia put a bottle of water in front of me, which I sipped as some kind of commotion erupted in the back of the room where Oliver had been standing. People were moving around and I began to feel slightly better, though it still seemed like the room was much too hot and there were too many people here. My heart was hammering and my head hurt, and I found it easy to blame Oliver for all of it. What the hell was he doing?
Before I could think much more about it, he appeared at the front of the crowd next to Delia, a humongous box in his arms that was taller than he was. It was long and square, and I could only imagine it must have held some kind of stand-up speaker or space heater for a patio, or . . . I really had no idea what baby item might require such a box. I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips as I watched him struggle with the awkward package to the front of the room and put it down, a shy smile on his face as he looked my way.
“For you,” he mouthed.
“You want help opening it?” Delia asked, still looking worried.
I was so confused and overwhelmed, dizzy and sick, that there was no way I could casually stroll over and unwrap a seven-foot-tall package without something terrible happening. I nodded.
“Present by proxy,” Delia told Oliver, pulling the huge red ribbon from the front of the box.
“What is this?” Pamela asked, her eyes wide as Delia worked.
Inside the wrapping was an unmarked cardboard box which gave no hints at the package’s contents, leading Delia to put a hand on her hip and shoot Oliver a look of sheer disbelief. One of the guys from development stepped forward with a pocketknife.
“Will I hurt it if I cut it open?” he asked Oliver.
“Don’t cut too deep,” Oliver said, waving him forward.
Between Delia, the developer with the knife, Pamela, and a few other people who stepped up to help peel off long panels of cardboard, the present was finally revealed. And I was finding it hard to breathe for the tears that were threatening to spill out of me. Oliver stood next to the huge thing looking uncertain, glancing between me and Delia, and then up at the soft smiling face of the enormous stuffed giraffe next to him. The giraffe was at least twice as big as the one I remembered from the nursery in Tessa’s house, and I had no doubt it was the biggest and best giraffe Oliver could find. It wore a blue bow tied around its neck and the ridiculousness of having the silly huge thing standing there in Cody Tech’s main conference room, coupled with the overwhelming outpouring of friendship from my co-workers and Oliver’s strange speech, was almost too much. I couldn’t speak for a few minutes, trying to pull myself together.
There was a quiet chatter in the room as people tried to figure out what the appropriate behavior might be for such a situation, and I wanted to tell them I didn’t know, either. But I figured I should at least stand up. I did, and walked on shaky legs toward the huge stuffed animal, my heart swelling as I looked up at it. “Thank you,” I said, when I was close enough for Oliver to hear me. It was the closest I’d been to him in months, and I had forgotten the magnetism he radiated.
His proximity made me want to melt into his arms, the vague scent of his cologne sent my insides quivering. I chanced a look at him, and felt swept away by the emotion I saw in his eyes. What was all this? What was he doing? It only made things so much harder to stand this close to him again, to have him bringing gifts and apologies. I loved the giant giraffe—I loved what it meant, what he knew it symbolized to me. But if I couldn’t have him . . . it didn’t matter. I felt my heart breaking all over again, and began to be angry with him for doing this to me in front of a room full of people. People I worked with, no less. “I don’t—” I began.
“You don’t need to say anything,” he said. “But I do need to talk to you.” His voice was low enough that most people in the room couldn’t hear him. Delia and Pamela pretended to be examining the giraffe, and that left Oliver and me together, secluded before the crowd. “I need to ask you to forgive me, Holland, but I don’t know if you can. I was so wrong. So . . . I ruined everything.”
He shook his head and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, his jaw flexing beneath the scruff of his beard as he searched for words. “I was so afraid,” he said, meeting my eye. “I was so afraid of being betrayed again, so ready for someone I cared about to hurt me, that I imagined it into being.”
“I didn’t?—”
“You didn’t do anything. I know. You were honest with me. You were up front and genuine, and I panicked and ran. I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you through this pregnancy. I know it can’t have been easy. But I want to be here now, if you’ll let me. I want to be part of this, I want to know my child. I want the chance to love him. To love you again.”
I stared at him, trying to piece together the words and then feel out what they meant. I knew I still loved Oliver, despite the months apart—some of the most difficult of my life. And I knew I could forgive him. But I didn’t know if I could trust him.
“I want to forgive you,” I said, my voice weak and shaky to match the state of my heart. “And I do. It doesn’t do us any good to have regrets, to hold grudges.” I’d learned that lesson as a child. There was too much pain in wishing to change things you couldn’t. “But I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know if I can give it. What’s coming next . . . I have no idea how it will be, or how I’ll be . . .” I trailed off. Motherhood was an unknown frontier for me. I already felt like a different person from the one he’d met less than a year ago, the girl who was so focused on ticking things off her plan that she would have done anything to get to the next step.
“Do you still love me?” Oliver asked, his chin high. So brave. I could see how hard it was for him to ask that question, how aware he was that I might say no.
“I do,” I admitted.
“Then tell me we can try. Tell me you’ll let me take care of you and our son.”
My head was nodding before my heart or mind had really confirmed what I wanted to say, but it felt like the right thing. I wanted Oliver next to me, a part of me. I wanted to be a family, and if that was what he was really offering, the only answer was yes.
Oliver looked uncertain, like he wasn’t sure I really meant it, and then his face cleared and a smile spread over his full lips. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around me carefully, pulling me to him.
I let my head fall against his hard chest, feeling the steel of his arms around me, protecting me, claiming me. And once again, I felt like I’d arrived at the place I’d been always meant to be, the place I’d searched for my whole life. Home.
Some of the people in the room had wandered out, back to work, back to the grind of the regular day. But many had been too curious to leave, and now they erupted in a chorus of hoots and cheers, applause clattering in my ears. Someone in the room called, “Kiss her!” And Oliver did.
The kiss was tender and searching, and I felt Oliver asking me for reassurance, for certainty. I tried to offer it, but my heart was a drum that echoed in my dizzy head, and my legs were rubber. If Oliver’s arms hadn’t been around me, I’m not sure I could have remained standing.
“Duchess, are you okay?” he whispered, his mouth leaving mine to whisper in my ear.
I nodded, though I wasn’t at all sure. Everything had happened so fast. I stepped back to my chair, gave the remaining guests a sheepish grin and bobbed my head at Delia to continue passing gifts down. I’d have a stack of thank-you notes to write—there were so many presents! But the best thing I got was the knowledge that I wouldn’t be alone in this, that Oliver was here, would be here .
Being without him for months had given me time to think. And the same thoughts flew through my head over and over where he was concerned. It didn’t matter if we worked together. It didn’t matter if he was the CEO or that some people might jump to conclusions about how I’d gotten my position. I could live my life worrying about what everyone else thought of me—I’d certainly done a lot of that as a kid. Self-consciousness was like a tattered old sweater that still felt comfortable and familiar, but one that was best left in the back of my closet. I would choose to be happy instead, choose to embrace the good things in my life and work to keep them close.
As I opened the last gift on the table, the baby kicked, as if to signal that he was on board with the resolve I’d found.