CHAPTER TWENTY #2
The yard was trimmed, and the path leading to the house was filled with fresh-looking pebbles, as though Oliver had recently scattered them.
The porch was a classic wraparound with hanging pots of plants and an unlit string of lights. Beside the front door was a white porch swing that looked so inviting, I was tempted to sit down the moment we reached it.
“This is amazing,” I whispered, awed.
“I’m glad you think so,” he responded, delighted. “I’ve been stealing every chance I could get to come up here and spruce it up for us.”
I smiled. “You’re not real, Oliver Black.”
He let out a deep chuckle. “I’m not?”
I looked at him, meaning every word as it poured from my lips. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met, and you like me.”
He looked down at me, his smile fading. “Sweetheart, I love you.”
As though sensing my vulnerability, he brought me into his side, and I clung to him, digging my fingers deep into his shirt.
“We’re going to have a blast, okay?”
I nodded, my eyes burning with unshed tears.
“Sometimes I don’t believe you’re real either,” he confided suddenly as we walked up the steps. “You’re perfect, Daisy. So perfect.”
The evening was warm, tinged with the scent of pine and grilled garlic. Oliver had set up the patio behind the cabin with subtle elegance: soft string lights twinkling overhead, a small round table dressed in white linen, and a trail of rose petals arranged in a perfect spiral around it.
I’d just put Rowe to bed when I returned and stood there, stunned, my breath caught in my throat.
Oliver was already outside, wearing a crisp white shirt and dark slacks. His black hair was combed back but still unruly in the way I loved. He smiled when he saw me, and I felt my body weaken.
“You did all this?” I asked, stepping outside slowly.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. “I wanted tonight to be special.”
The table was set with two plates of pasta, a bottle of expensive wine, and candles flickering inside glass jars.
I sat down, beyond dazed, and he poured me a glass, his fingers brushing mine as he handed it over.
I looked out.
The forest was pitch-black.
It was a little unsettling. My imagination liked to poke its head out at times like these and say, Anyone could be watching you right now, and you wouldn’t even know it.
I ignored it.
“There’s a lot you can do with a yard like this,” I said dreamily. “Put up some raised garden beds and grow some vegetables.”
“I didn’t know you were a green thumb.”
I smiled softly. “June is.”
June…
I blocked her out immediately.
“I noticed a shed. Is it functional?”
“It needs some work,” he replied tightly.
I studied him curiously. “That bad?”
“This place belonged to my old man,” he explained. “It needed a lot of work after he died. The shed is something I haven’t gotten around to. There’s been no need to change its purpose.”
Oliver never spoke about his dad. All I knew was that he had been an accomplished professor like Oliver. He had died of natural causes. From what I gathered, he’d been in his fifties when he had Oliver. I wondered if his age had affected their relationship.
Oliver’s mother, on the other hand, had been his entire world until her death five years ago.
Fuck cancer, he liked to say.
So now I said it too.
Fuck cancer.
We ate slowly, talking about Rowe, about school, about nothing and everything. He expressed his passion for philosophy and his upcoming work, and there was so much pride in him when he spoke about how far many of his students had come.
The stars blinked above us, and the music from inside drifted out softly, making me feel like I was floating.
The alcohol was doing a good job of relaxing me. I knew that after dinner, he would take me to bed.
I was still adjusting to sex with Oliver. My body was often too tight and too difficult to unwind. He was a feverish lover, and I was often sore in two places: between my legs and in my throat.
Oliver delighted in it.
He loved how small he found me when he slid between my legs. Loved especially how my eyes burned when he took my throat.
I demolished my wine, needing it more than ever.
We were halfway through dinner when Oliver reached for the bottle to refill my glass—
He knocked it over.
The deep red liquid spilled across the tablecloth, dripping onto the wood below.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered, jumping up.
I was already grabbing napkins. “It’s okay, Oliver. I’ve got it.”
He sounded sheepish. “I wanted this to be perfect.”
I knelt beside the table, blotting the wine from the cloth. “It is perfect, but I’m not sure we’ll get this stain out,” I said, laughing.
He didn’t respond right away.
I was still fussing with the mess when I heard his voice, low, steady, and close.
“Daisy.”
I looked up—and froze.
He was kneeling beside me, one hand resting on his thigh, the other holding a small velvet box.
My breath caught.
He opened it.
The ring inside was anything but subtle. A massive diamond sparkled beneath the patio lights, flanked by smaller stones that glittered like stars. It was flashy and unmistakably expensive.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” he said, his voice quiet but sure. “You’ve changed my life. You’ve made me believe the perfect woman exists.”
I stared at him, the napkins forgotten in my hand.
“I want to build a life with you. With Rowe. I want to be your partner. Your mentor. Your lover. Your everything.”
He held my gaze.
“Will you marry me?”
Tears welled in my eyes. I nodded, whispering, “Yes.”
With a huge grin, he slipped the ring onto my finger, and I threw my arms around him, laughing through my tears.
The wine stain didn’t matter anymore. June’s words no longer burned through my mind.
Nothing mattered except him and this moment.
Much later, after he took me to bed and made love to me, we curled up beneath a blanket in the bedroom.
I lay with my head on his bare chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
With Oliver, I didn’t feel like nothing anymore.
I felt chosen.
Wanted.
Deserving.
I felt like I mattered in a world that had ignored me, that had made me fight for everything I had.
The ring sparkled like it had its own gravitational pull. While it didn’t feel like me, it would eventually.
I knew that.
I needed to relax, to fall into this way of life because I wasn’t back there anymore, scraping together every penny.
Not anymore.
I turned my hand over, watching the light catch every side. It was beautiful.
Extravagant.
And so was Oliver.
He’d been so sure when he proposed. So confident. He’d spoken the words to me like he had rehearsed them a thousand times. His timing was impeccable.
And the ring…
Well, the ring was a statement.
But now, in the quiet of the bedroom, with the patio lights dimmed outside the window and Rowe asleep down the hall, I felt a strange unease settle in my chest.
Without thinking, I slid out of bed, my legs shaky beneath the weight of my strangled thoughts. Leaving the bedroom, I wandered through the cabin, dazed, wondering if I could truly have all of this.
I couldn’t ignore the ring on my finger.
I wasn’t used to things like this. Flashy gifts. Grand gestures. I was used to second-hand clothes and grocery budgets that required penny-pinching.
I stepped onto the deck and took a seat in the chair I had occupied when Oliver proposed. Soft wind fell over me, cooling my heated cheeks. Taking deep breaths, I pressed my thumb against the diamond, trying to imagine wearing it to Rowe’s school, to the grocery store, to class.
It felt heavy.
Not just physically, but emotionally. Like it came with expectations I wasn’t sure I could meet. I thought about the way Oliver looked at me. Like I was something rare.
But I wasn’t.
I was a girl who had clawed her way through adult basic education, who still felt out of place in university halls, who had raised a son with borrowed help and borrowed time.
Fuck.
I didn’t want to be ungrateful. I didn’t want to question something so beautiful. But I also didn’t want to lose myself in the glitter.
My mounting insecurities wouldn’t fade. I wondered if Oliver truly saw me or if he saw only the version of myself I had led him to believe in.
June’s words slithered into my head.
Dragging me down.
Reminding me of the countless faults I didn’t want to confront. The ones that brought so much shame.
Was I going to ruin this like I had ruined so many other things in life?
I slid the ring off and placed it gently on the table. It gleamed unapologetically beneath the moonlight.
My throat tightened.
I wasn’t sure why I was panicking. Tears stung my eyes as I looked away from the ring and toward the black forest.
A strange feeling washed over me.
I looked away from the trees and toward the shed. The feeling grew stronger. Goose bumps pebbled my arms.
My mind did this sometimes. Took an ordinary shadow and gave it eyes. Made me think something was there when there wasn’t. I pressed my palms against the table and tried to breathe. It was the wine. The argument with June. The long drive and the lack of sleep. That was all.
But when I looked back at the forest, I could feel them again.
Eyes.
Eyes everywhere, watching me.
They want me to look back—
I bolted from the chair and hurried inside.
It must have been the alcohol still working its way through my system.
That was all.
Jittery, I returned to bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
It was only when I was half-asleep that I realized I had forgotten the ring outside.
I should have gotten up.
I should have gone back for it, but I didn’t want to confront the eyes—all those eyes.
I didn’t want to look back.