Chapter 18
Oliver moved back into our bedroom on Thanksgiving night. The intimacy between us reignited immediately, and we made love twice more before falling into a deep sleep, waking late the next morning. The hospital bed was removed from the guest room, and the original furniture was restored. I cut the nurse’s hours, planning to work from home while Oliver began doing the same.
By the first week of December, it was as if he had never been away from Fox Asset Corporation. I happily relinquished my seat as CEO, allowing him to take the reins. We reorganized our home office with two desks facing each other, so I could always see his handsome face. Oliver, driven by purpose, became more focused and determined.
On the days he had in-home physical therapy, I made myself scarce, unable to bear hearing him cry out in pain. His muscles were still tight, and stretching them was agonizing, but Oliver endured it with stoic resolve. Working from home had its advantages, and it was easy to give in to our urges.
As he grew stronger, Oliver began to take charge in the bedroom, which I was more than fine with. Our sex life was even better than before his injury, if that was even possible. However, there were moments of melancholy when I touched or stared at the scar on his chest. He would always admonish me, reminding me it wasn’t my fault.
One such Saturday in mid-December, we sat across from each other at the dining table, sharing pancakes. Oliver wore a tank top that had shifted, revealing the scar. My gaze fixed on it, and I didn’t even realize.
“Stop it, Ryleigh,” he softly said, pulling me back to reality.
“I’m sorry,” I replied, looking away.
“I still think you should attend therapy,” he suggested, his voice gentle yet firm.
“Like I said, I don’t want to do that again,” I insisted, shaking my head.
“It happened, I survived,” he reminded me, his eyes filled with reassurance.
“That reminds me, Raquel needs modifications to her home. I said we would handle it with one of our contractors,” I mentioned, trying to shift the focus.
“Whatever she needs,” Oliver agreed, though I could see the pain flicker in his eyes.
Oliver didn’t say as much, but I knew he felt horrible about Raquel’s paralysis and the deaths of our other security agents. When he was in a coma, I pledged to help Raquel and the families of the agents.
We sent Trevor’s little brother to college and helped his family pay off their home and other bills, as well as assisting the other families. It would never be enough, but it was all we could do.
“I just wish we could do more,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Oliver reached across the table, taking my hand in his. “We’re doing everything we can. And we’ll continue to do so.”
I squeezed his hand, drawing strength from his resolve. "I know. It's just hard sometimes."
“She’s doing better,” Oliver said, his eyes softening as he spoke.
“If Caruso wasn’t already dead, I would kill him with my bare hands,” I replied, my voice trembling with a mix of rage and sorrow.
“If you hadn’t gotten involved with me, no one would’ve been hurt,” he said, wincing.
Oliver sighed, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles. “But you. He would’ve found you and killed you no matter where you were. No one blames you for what happened. They worked security for us and knew the risks. Vlad made sure they knew who Caruso was and how ruthless he could be. I hope that little bastard who betrayed us rots in jail.”
“You had no way of knowing he was a plant. The company that sent him over said he passed an extensive security check,” I said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “Have you heard anything from Jonah?”
“No. My once elusive brother escapes again. I suppose he’s bouncing around the Caribbean somewhere. I’ve had Vlad keeping an eye on Antonio Caruso.”
A bolt of fear shot through me. “Why?”
“Calm down. It’s precautionary,” he assured, his voice steady but firm.
“Are you worried he might want to avenge the death of his brother?” I asked, unable to hide the tremor in my voice.
“He’s under a microscope by law enforcement. He would be stupid to do anything that would raise suspicion.”
“And what about when everything dies down?” I pressed.
“It won’t. You forget who I am and now, who you are.”
“Should we have security with us again?”
“They are with us,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine.
“Since when?” I cried, my heart racing.
“Since I was well enough to have a conversation with Vlad. They’re keeping their distance but if we need them, they’ll be there.”
“I miss taking the limo,” I admitted, my voice softening.
“Vlad would be more than happy to drive us,” Oliver offered with a small smile.
“I liked snuggling up to you after a long day at work,” I confessed, memories of those intimate moments flooding back.
“As I remember it, we did a lot more than snuggle during our rides,” he teased, his eyes twinkling.
“Maybe when you go back to the office,” I suggested, a hint of hope in my voice.
“That could be soon. I feel stronger, and I’ve taken steps without the walker.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” I exclaimed, surprised.
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he admitted, a proud smile spreading across his face.
I shoved a piece of pancake into my mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing. “Do you want to show me?”
“If you keep this little monster out from under my feet,” he said, nodding towards our curious dog circling under the table.
Since Oliver had been home so much, Trouble had made himself at home in my husband’s room and eventually his bed.
“It’s your fault. You spoiled him, and I had no idea. He got your bed during the day and mine at night,” I accused, my voice tinged with playful annoyance.
“There is no mine and yours. We only have ours, and he’s not welcome to share it when I want to be alone with you,” Oliver countered, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“He still does, and you know it. He sleeps at the end of the bed.”
“That’s fine, but he can’t sleep between us.”
“I have him. Now show me,” I urged, my heart pounding with anticipation.
Oliver pushed his chair back and braced his hands on the wooden arms, steadying himself as he rose. I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears as he walked around the counter and back again without the aid of his walker.
“I’m so proud of you. You’re getting stronger every day,” I sniffled, unable to contain my emotions.
“My goal is to carry my beautiful wife into our bedroom by Valentine’s Day,” he declared, his voice filled with determination.
“You have time. What will you do once you get me there?” I asked, teasingly.
“You’ll just have to be patient, Mrs. Fox. It’s only two months away,” he replied with a wink.
“That’s no fair,” I pouted, crossing my arms.
Oliver chuckled, taking his seat and sliding back under the table. We finished breakfast, and I gave Trouble the last of my pancakes. He gobbled them up and then curled up in his bed by the terrace window. Oliver smiled at me and shook his head.
“I wonder what you’ll be like when we have children?”
I froze. “Oh shit.”
Oliver’s head shot up from his plate. “What’s the matter?”
“I forgot to pick up my prescription from the pharmacy. They called me twice,” I confessed, panic rising in my voice.
“Which prescription?” he asked, concern etched on his face.
“My pills. I haven’t taken them in two days, and we’ve had a lot of sex.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Oliver asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“I’m not ready to be a mother. I wanted some time with you. I wanted to let our marriage sink in and to get to know you again,” I explained, my voice trembling.
“We do know each other, Ryleigh. You don’t forget.”
“But we’re both different than before.”
“Well, you are a little rougher around the edges, but some of the bitchiness is wearing off,” he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.
I glared at him, trying to suppress a smile. “Fuck you Fox.”
“Is that an offer for sex? Because I’ll take it,” Oliver said with a sly grin.
“You want to go back to bed? We just got up a little while ago,” I replied, laughing.
“Since when does that stop you?”
“There is something I’d like to do,” I said, my voice softening.
“And that is?” Oliver asked.
“Take a bath with you.”
Oliver groaned. “You just made me hard.”
I rolled my eyes. “I said a bath, not sex.”
“Why can’t we do both?”
“We’ll see. But we didn’t discuss the possibility that I might be pregnant. We should use protection.”
“Do you think I give a shit if you’re pregnant or not? I would love you to be pregnant.”
“Let’s talk in the tub,” I suggested, taking his hand and leading him toward the bathroom.
I scooped up a handful of lime basil-scented bubbles, blowing them gently into the air. "Mmm, now this is nice," I murmured, watching them float lazily across the steamy bathroom.
Oliver's deep chuckle resonated from the other side of the tub. "Yes, it is. I love taking baths with you." His eyes sparkled with contentment as he gazed at me through the fragrant mist.
The hot water enveloped us, soothing my aching muscles. We'd been making up for lost time in the bedroom, and though Oliver was regaining his strength, I was still doing most of the work. My sporadic gym visits hadn't prepared me for our passionate reconciliation.
Seeking connection, I extended my leg, pressing my foot against Oliver's. Without a word, he grasped it gently, his strong fingers working magic on my arch and heel. A moan of pleasure escaped my lips as I gripped the edge of the tub.
"You need to come closer," Oliver said, his voice low and inviting.
I laughed softly. "If I do, I'll slip under the water."
A mischievous grin spread across his face. "Then sit next to me or between my legs. I can massage your shoulders."
The offer was too tempting to resist. "I could use it. My neck hurts."
As Oliver spread his legs, I carefully maneuvered between them, acutely aware of his growing arousal pressed against my lower back. His hands found my shoulders, kneading away the tension.
"It doesn't take much," I whispered, feeling him respond to our proximity.
Oliver's breath tickled my ear as he leaned closer. "You make me crazy, Ryleigh. I dreamed about you so much when we were apart."
A pang of guilt shot through me. "I'm sorry, Oliver."
His hands stilled on my shoulders. "I'm not looking for an apology. I just wanted you to know that out of sight did not mean out of mind. I'd often wonder, What is Ryleigh doing now? while you were at work."
I tensed slightly, remembering the surveillance. "You knew because Henri was telling you."
Oliver resumed his massage, his touch gentler now. "He wasn't telling me everything, only about what was going on the business side. I wanted to be ready when I came back."
Suspicion crept into my voice. "And that's it?"
There was a pause before Oliver spoke again, his tone careful. "I know about Tim, Bryan, and Todd. I know what they said, and I'm thinking about replacing them."
I turned to face him, water sloshing around us. "Oliver, they're assholes, but they get the job done."
Oliver's words hung in the steamy air between us. "That's just it, their staff gets the job done. They just bark out orders. I don't need guys like that on my team. I was thinking of promoting Henri to Tim's job."
As I processed his words, my mind raced. Tim, Bryan, and Todd had been thorns in my side, their barely concealed disdain making every workday a challenge. Part of me relished the idea of seeing them ousted, but another part hesitated. Change always brought uncertainty, and we'd had enough of that lately.
"And what would you do without him?" I asked, studying Oliver's face.
He didn't miss a beat. "I would promote Anna or Sylvia. They're both quite capable. We can hire a few more people to fill in spots. I think you could also use an assistant of your own."
The idea was tempting, but a new possibility had been occupying my thoughts lately. "Why don't we wait until we find out if I'm pregnant? If I am, I won't want to work for a few months after I give birth."
Oliver's eyes lit up, a mixture of hope and excitement dancing in their depths. "I hope you are. I really do."
A teasing smile played on my lips. "Is that because you're old or because you want me to stay out of the office?"
"Neither," he scoffed, splashing water playfully in my direction. "And who are you calling old? I'm thirty-eight."
I couldn't resist pushing the joke further. "That's old for a first-time father."
Oliver's brow furrowed in mock indignation. "Says who? I'll be a fantastic father. I can't wait to take my boy to the park and baseball games."
"Who said it's going to be a boy?" I challenged, raising an eyebrow.
"Boy, girl, I don't care," he backpedaled, but I could see the truth in his eyes.
"You want a son, don't you?" I pressed gently.
Oliver's expression softened. "I'll admit I do, but I want him to have his mother's beautiful hair and eyes."
My heart swelled at the image. "No way. Maybe my hair, but I want him to have his Daddy's eyes."
"A nice compromise," Oliver chuckled. "Either way, he'll be a good-looking boy."
I leaned in, suddenly serious. "As long as he's a nice boy and treats people well."
Oliver's hand found mine under the water, squeezing gently. "With a mama like you, how can he not?"
The tenderness in his voice made me melt, but I couldn't resist one last tease. "Are you just trying to butter me up so you can get in my pants?"
In response, Oliver's free hand slid between my legs, his fingers finding that sensitive spot. A jolt of pleasure shot through me as he began to rub gently.
"You're not wearing pants, Mrs. Fox," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.
He chuckled before he gave me a fast orgasm and we got out of the tub to spend a good chunk of Saturday in bed. If I wasn’t pregnant before, there was a very good chance that I was after we got finished.
“Mrs. Fox?”
I looked up at the young brunette nurse as she called my name. I’d been sitting in my gynecologist’s office for the last half hour amid women with protruding bellies or little ones playing with the stuffed animals and blocks in the corner of the stark white waiting room.
Unbeknownst to my husband, I took a pregnancy test a few days after our Saturday in bed. I was indeed pregnant, but I wanted confirmation from the doctor before I told Oliver. I made an appointment with Dr. Gwen Stein a few days before Christmas and told Oliver I was having lunch with Sadie.
He didn’t question because he was involved in a negotiation with Haruto Ito for more steel. My husband was pissed off that Ito gave me a hard time even though his company Ito Steel Works needed the cash flow. Over the years, Oliver had given him plenty of business. I left him to battle it out as he sat in our office and conducted his call in Japanese. I was happy to pass the headache to him.
I stood up from where I was sitting, careful not to knock over the little girl of about a year old who had toddled toward me. She was adorable with pigtails, a small, upturned nose and big brown eyes. I followed the nurse into an exam room and let her take my weight then hopped up on the gray exam table so she could register my vitals and wait for my exam.
“Congratulations, you’re pregnant. Based on what you told me, probably no more than two to three weeks. You should make an appointment in a few weeks so we can give you an ultrasound.”
I smiled widely, it was a few days before Christmas, and I planned to keep this information to myself until Christmas Eve when I would tell Oliver. We had plans to spend the holiday with my parents. I was in much better spirits than I had been before the Thanksgiving holiday. Our lives were finally back on track.
When I walked into the house, I heard Oliver talking on the phone with someone and it turned out to be Finley. I peeked in the door, and he frowned at me then looked away. I wondered what that was about, but it would have to wait until he got off with my brother. I was making a cup of decaffeinated tea when he came into the kitchen.
"Ryleigh, where were you today?" Oliver's voice cut through the air as I stepped into the room.
"With Sadie. We had lunch," I replied, trying to keep my tone casual.
"Funny, because that’s not what Finley said. He mentioned Sadie is home with Teagan, who has a cold. Where were you?" His tone grew harsher, the creases on his forehead deepening.
"Oliver, what are you implying?" I asked, my patience thinning.
"I’m not implying, I’m stating. You lied to me. Now, where were you?" His eyes bored into mine, unyielding.
"Out. You don’t need to know the details."
"That’s your first lie. Want to go for two?" His voice was a dangerous growl.
"Why are you getting so upset?" I shot back, feeling my blood boil.
"Because you told me you were going to lunch, and that wasn’t the case. Now, where were you?"
"You’re an asshole," I spat, turning away. I walked into the living room, but Oliver followed, relentless. I sank onto the couch, hoping for some respite, but he grabbed my arm before I could even set my mug down on the coffee table.
"You’re hurting me, let go."
"Why won’t you tell me where you were today?" His grip tightened, his frustration palpable.
"Why is it such a big deal? Do you think I’m having an affair? I don’t have time or energy for one."
He ground his teeth. "That’s reassuring. Is that the only reason you wouldn’t pursue one?"
"What the hell is this about?" I snapped, pulling away from his grasp.
"You lying to me and catching you in that lie. Just tell the truth. Where were you?"
I stood up, storming to my purse, and pulled out the card I had gotten at the pharmacy when I picked up my prenatal vitamins. I walked over to the Christmas tree and placed the card on one of the limbs, the word "Daddy" scrawled on the outside of the envelope.
"Why does it say Daddy?" he asked, confusion replacing his anger.
"Because - you possessive asshole, I’m pregnant. I went to the doctor today. I wanted it to be a surprise," I yelled.
His eyebrows shot up. "You’re pregnant?"
"Yes, about two or three weeks. I told you I might be. I took a test before I started taking my pills again just in case."
"I’m... I’m sorry." His voice softened, regret replacing the anger.
I put my hands on my hips. "What the hell is wrong with you, Oliver? Don’t you trust me? Do you think I’m cheating on you? I didn’t when I hated you, so why would I now?"
"Ty called me."
"When did he call you?" I asked quietly.
I knew my friendship with Tyler would always be a point of contention with Oliver. He suspected I confided my feelings about our marriage to Tyler while he was in a coma. And he wasn’t wrong because I had.
"While you were out. He asked me all kinds of questions. I thought he was acting more like a lover than a friend."
I hung my head, shame washing over me. "I’m ashamed to admit it, but there was a time I considered something with him. We didn’t go through with it."
Oliver’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenched. "So, you led him on to get back at me?"
"You have to understand my position. I’ve told you this many times."
"And yet this is the first I’m hearing that you considered sleeping with him," he snapped, his voice like a whip.
"You’re ruining this for me," I choked out, tears stinging my eyes. I turned to head for the bedroom, but Oliver’s grip was like an anaconda, pulling me back against his chest.
"I’m sorry, Ryleigh. Don’t be upset with me. I’m so happy you’re pregnant," he murmured, his voice softer now.
"Then act like it, you bastard," I cried, tears spilling over as he walked me to the couch. He sat down, pulling me onto his lap. I buried my face in his shoulder, my sobs muffled against his shirt as he rocked me gently.
"Shh, I’m an ass. I just want you to be mine," he whispered, his hand smoothing over my back.
"I am yours, you possessive asshole."
"I know you are," he replied, his voice tinged with relief. "So, a baby. We’re going to be parents."
"I’m not sure I want to tell my family until after three months," I said, my voice shaky.
"Why? It would be a great Christmas present to tell them."
"Suppose I miscarry?" I whispered, the fear clawing at my heart.
"Don’t say that," Oliver whispered, his voice cracking. "I couldn’t take losing our baby."
"I’m not saying I will. The doctor said I’m healthy, but it happens."
"It won’t," he insisted, his eyes full of determination.
"You don’t know that. I’d rather wait."
"I’m not sure I can keep this news inside," he admitted, his grip tightening.
"Try. What can I do to help?" I asked, looking up at him, searching his eyes for reassurance.
Oliver's voice was barely above a whisper, tinged with a mixture of hope and fear. "So, everything after three months?"
I turned to face him, noting the worry lines etched around his eyes. "Usually miscarriages can happen at any time during a pregnancy," I explained gently, trying to balance honesty with reassurance.
His hand found mine, squeezing it tightly. "You'll be careful."
A sigh escaped my lips. "Oliver, stop saying that. No amount of careful is going to stop me from having a miscarriage if it's going to happen." I paused, studying his face. "You're afraid because of what happened to Faith, aren't you?"
Oliver's gaze dropped to our intertwined fingers. "I don't want to feel that way again," he admitted, his voice cracking slightly.
The vulnerability in his tone tugged at my heart. "You never told me when this happened," I prodded softly.
"Almost ten years ago," he replied, his eyes distant with memory.
I felt a flicker of surprise. "I didn't know you knew Lara for that long."
Oliver's focus snapped back to me, his expression earnest. "I've known Lara since I was twenty-two. It doesn't matter, she's just an acquaintance. You're my wife and all I care about."
As if on cue, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. I tried to stifle a yawn but failed. "I need a nap," I mumbled, the weight of the day's revelations and emotions settling heavily on my shoulders.
Oliver nodded, his own fatigue evident in the slump of his posture. "I think I need one too. It's been a trying day."
I slid off Oliver's lap, my body protesting the movement. Taking his hand, I led him down the hall towards our bedroom. As we settled into bed, I felt Oliver's arm wrap protectively around my waist, his hand resting gently over my still-flat stomach.
Sleep came quickly, but my dreams were a swirling mix of joy and unease. Visions of a future filled with laughter and tiny footsteps danced through my mind, but they were shadowed by something darker – an unnamed fear that lurked at the edges of these happy scenes.