Chapter 26
"Oliver, how do you feel about what Ryleigh just said?"
Dr. Randall's question hung in the air, heavy with expectation. I shifted in my seat, stealing a glance at Oliver. His jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond the therapist's shoulder.
We were nestled in the cozy confines of Dr. Randall's office, a space that felt both intimate and intimidating. The relationship therapist, recommended by my own Dr. Snell, was not at all what I had expected.
He was closer to Oliver's age, with a disarming smile that revealed two charming dimples. His eyes, the warm color of freshly brewed coffee, seemed to see right through our carefully constructed facades.
Oliver's voice, when he finally spoke, was tight with tension. "How am I supposed to feel?"
Dr. Randall leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I can't tell you that. It's for you to decide."
Oliver ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I recognized as a sign of his discomfort. "I feel like a piece of shit," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "When Ryleigh needed me most, I walked away. I couldn't help shutting down."
"It's natural," Dr. Randall nodded, his pen poised over his notepad. "Some people shut down, and others want to shout their issues to the world."
"I know I should've handled it better," Oliver continued, his gaze finally meeting mine. The pain in his eyes made my heart clench. "I didn't know what to do."
"And now?" Dr. Randall prompted gently.
Oliver reached for my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. "I realize I made a mistake. Ryleigh is one of the best things that have happened in my life. I love her."
The room seemed to grow warmer at his words. Dr. Randall smiled, those dimples appearing briefly before he asked, "Let's talk about your relationship. How did it start?"
I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, but quickly stifled it when Oliver shot me a hard look.
Dr. Randall's eyebrows rose slightly. "Ryleigh, do you want to tell me?"
I bit my lip, trying to suppress a grin. "Oliver stalked me."
"I certainly did not," Oliver protested, his grip on my hand tightening. "I don't call what I did stalking."
Dr. Randall frowned, his pen scratching across the tablet he held. "Elaborate, please."
Oliver and I both started speaking simultaneously, our words tumbling over each other. Dr. Randall held up a hand, gesturing for me to continue.
"He wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed to have lunch with him," I explained, a hint of amusement in my voice.
Oliver huffed, "I hardly call that stalking."
"I have to agree," Dr. Randall nodded, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.
I softened, leaning slightly towards Oliver. "Oliver fell in love with me at first meeting. At least, that's what he tells me."
"It's not a lie," Oliver insisted, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "I did."
Dr. Randall tilted his head, clearly intrigued. "Where did you two meet?"
"At my graduation," I replied, memories of that day flooding back. "Oliver was the guest speaker."
"What did you feel when you first met him?" Dr. Randall asked, his pen poised expectantly.
I paused, considering my words carefully. "I thought he was very handsome, intimidating"—I shook my head, a rueful smile playing on my lips—"and totally out of my league."
As I spoke, I felt Oliver's eyes on me, intense and filled with an emotion I couldn't quite name. The air between us crackled with unspoken words and shared memories, leaving me wondering what other revelations this therapy session might bring to light.
Dr. Randall leaned forward. "Interesting. Why?"
I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt, suddenly aware of the weight of Oliver's gaze on me. "For one, he's fourteen years older," I explained, my voice barely above a whisper. "And another - he's Oliver Fox. What would he want with someone who just graduated college?"
The therapist's pen hovered over his notepad. "Did you feel inferior to him?"
I shook my head, searching for the right words. "Not inferior, just... in a different league. When he asked me out, I felt strange."
"Strange how?" Dr. Randall prompted gently.
I risked a glance at Oliver, who sat rigid beside me, his jaw still clenched. "He was older and more established. Much more established, obviously."
"That's ridiculous," Oliver interjected, his voice tight with frustration.
Dr. Randall held up a placating hand. "Oliver, please let Ryleigh finish."
The next forty minutes flew by as we delved into the depths of our relationship, including the harrowing attack on Fox Island. By the time we left Dr. Randall's office, I felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Oliver, however, remained tense and silent until we were safely ensconced in the privacy of our limo.
"Why did you tell him that I was a stalker?" he demanded, his eyes flashing.
I sighed, leaning back against the plush leather seat. "Because you sort of were. What's the problem?"
Oliver ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I'd come to recognize as a sign of his agitation. "You make me sound as if I was a pedophile with all that 'older' talk."
"I'm sorry," I said, reaching for his hand. "But you intimidated me. What the hell would a hot, handsome, well-established man want with a twenty-two-year-old recent college graduate?"
His expression softened, and he squeezed my fingers. "Are you kidding? Everything. You're beautiful and intelligent."
I shook my head, a rueful smile playing on my lips. "But you couldn't know that when you handed me my diploma."
"I think I could," Oliver countered, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "Columbia is not an easy school, and if you graduated with honors, you must be intelligent. It wasn't hard to figure out." He cupped my cheek, forcing me to meet his intense gaze. "You need to get off this thing you have about not feeling my equal. You are so much more. I love you."
My heart swelled at his words. "I know, but it's hard sometimes. I'm in awe of you."
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "And I of you. We've been through a lot in our short marriage."
The mention of our marriage sparked a memory. "Speaking of which," I said, a hint of excitement creeping into my voice, "our anniversary is coming up."
As the words left my mouth, I saw a flicker of something—surprise? anticipation?—in Oliver's eyes. The air between us crackled with unspoken possibilities, and I found myself wondering what plans he might be concocting for our upcoming celebration.
Oliver's eyes sparkled. "I'm aware. What would you like to do? I think a trip is in order."
My heart began to race. "A trip where?" I asked, leaning forward in my seat.
He hesitated, a shadow crossing his face. "I wouldn't even suggest it. It's almost sold."
Confusion furrowed my brow. "You sold Fox Island?"
Oliver nodded, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. "I'm negotiating with the buyer for price right now. Why?"
"I'm surprised you sold it so fast," I admitted, a hint of nostalgia in my voice.
He reached for my hand, his touch gentle. "I had to. It only holds bad memories."
I squeezed his fingers, memories flooding back. "They weren't all bad. The first few days were heaven."
A soft smile played on Oliver's lips. "We can buy another island if you like?"
I shook my head, an idea forming. "How about we just buy a nondescript lake house somewhere? I don't need all the flash and glitz. Something simple where we can take a speedboat out on the lake or swim on our own private beach."
Oliver's eyes lit up. "I love how you think. I'm sure we can find something like that in upstate New York."
"It doesn't have to be New York," I mused, "but I want it to be quiet."
He caught my gaze, his expression suddenly serious. "Do you trust me?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "That's a silly question. Of course I do."
A grin spread across his face. "Then let me find something and it will be a surprise."
Suddenly, a memory sparked. "Speaking of which," I said, playfully nudging his shoulder. "Didn't you promise me a surprise when I moved back on Saturday?"
Oliver's eyebrows shot up. "I did, and it got pushed back."
Confusion clouded my features. "Huh? I don't understand."
He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. "It's waiting for you at home."
"What is it?" I asked eagerly, practically bouncing in my seat.
Oliver rolled his eyes and began laughing. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now, would it?"
I pouted playfully. "No, it wouldn't."
"We'll be home soon," he promised, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
As we continued our journey, I couldn't sit still, my mind racing with possibilities. Oliver glanced up from his phone, where he'd been tapping out an email.
"Do you have ants in your pants?" he teased, arching an eyebrow.
I grinned sheepishly. "I'm excited. I always am when you give me gifts."
A wicked smile spread across his face. "Can I do something to calm you down?" he purred, his voice low and suggestive.
"No!" I exclaimed, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.
Oliver chuckled and returned to his email while I turned to watch the pedestrian traffic outside. When we finally pulled up to the building, I could barely contain myself. Vlad opened the door, and I practically bolted from the limo, leaving a bemused Oliver in my wake as I dashed for the elevator.
The concierge's startled expression barely registered as I jabbed the elevator button repeatedly, impatience thrumming through my veins. As the doors slid open, I heard Oliver's footsteps behind me, his low laughter echoing in the lobby.
"Slow down, sweetheart," he called, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The surprise isn't going anywhere."
But I was already in the elevator, my finger hovering over the button for our floor, my heart pounding with anticipation. Whatever Oliver had planned, I knew it would be worth the wait – even if the waiting was driving me crazy.
“I want to see.”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me against him. I buried my face in his blue shirt, feeling the smooth silk of his tie rub against my face. I broke from him as soon as the doors opened on our floor, hurrying down the hall with him behind me. Once we were in the penthouse, I scanned the entry for any signs of a gift.
“Well?” I asked Oliver with my hands on my jean clad hips.
“You tell me.”
Trouble had just gotten out of his bed by the terrace doors and I noticed a small tan body pop its head up. I practically screamed when I realized Oliver had gotten me a French bulldog puppy. I ran to the bed and picked up the pup in arms. It was a little girl, and she licked my chin with her pink tongue.
“Oh my God, she’s adorable.”
Trouble barked in protest and Oliver bent down to scratch him behind his ears which resulted in his trying to lick Oliver’s face. We both laughed as I cuddled the puppy.
Oliver's eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched me coo over the little ball of fur in my arms. "What do you want to call her?" he asked, reaching out to scratch behind the puppy's ears.
I looked up at him, my brow furrowed in concentration. "I haven't the slightest idea," I admitted, my fingers gently stroking the soft fur.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, think of something. You can't just say 'hey you.'"
A giggle escaped my lips as I nuzzled the puppy's head. "Why now?" I asked, my voice filled with joy. "Thank you so much, Oliver. Now Trouble won't be alone during the day."
Oliver's expression shifted, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone. "If you get pregnant, he wouldn't be anyway."
My hands stilled, and I looked up at him, searching his face. "You want me to stay home?"
He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I recognized as a sign of his discomfort. "I want you to take it easy," he said softly.
I sighed, carefully setting the puppy down. "We discussed this, Oliver. It doesn't matter what I do if nature has other plans."
Oliver stepped closer, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. "I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly," he murmured, his thumbs tracing soothing circles.
I leaned into his touch, offering him a reassuring smile. "It will. We can't worry about something that hasn't happened yet."
In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of our home and the joy of new beginnings, I felt a surge of hope for our future. Whatever challenges lay ahead, I knew we'd face them together – with a little help from our growing furry family.