Chapter 25

Oliver

I watched Holland for months across rooms and through conference room windows when she didn’t know I was there. I watched her body change, her skin begin to glow, her amazing breasts become even more perfect. I still thought of almost nothing but her…and increasingly, of the baby. I knew now with certainty that it was mine. The time apart, and Holland’s frugal use of the money I’d set aside confirmed to me that she’d never been out to manipulate me. I hated myself for ever thinking it.

Pamela handed me itemized receipts each week from Holland, a strict accounting of what had been spent out of the account. Besides the apartment rental and a crib, most of the items were small and monetarily insignificant. She wasn’t trying to use me. I got the impression she was doing everything she could to avoid letting me help at all.

During the months I spent outside Holland’s orbit, I accomplished a lot. I pulled the company back together after hiring a new lead counsel and announcing the MLB deal officially just in time to reassure the board members who’d still been thinking of selling. I appointed a new chairman in Adam’s place—Burton Pax. I was certain he could keep the board’s favor on our side. More than anything, I’d proven to myself that I was a competent and capable CEO. I’d doubted it when I left, believed that I was just a figurehead, that Adam was coddling me. But now I had to give him credit—he knew I could do it, and maybe I had been doing a good job before. I had just been too confused to see it.

Even in the face of my success, I felt torn apart and empty. I lay awake nights, replaying the last conversation I’d had with Holland—and the one with Pamela that preceded it. I’d never been less sure of a decision. In college I’d been too arrogant to bother thinking much about what I did. I just did things. And lately I’d accepted the possibility that after starting my company Adam may have been the one to gently steer the ship, though I’d always thought I was at the helm. I’d grown into my responsibilities, and before my parents died, I had been firmly in command at Cody Tech—though Adam had always been that calm, guiding presence when I’d needed it. But now? I was on my own.

At work. At home. In my head. In my heart. I was alone. And it was possible I’d made the biggest mistake of my life in letting Holland go.

“You did the right thing,” Pamela said, leaning against the edge of my desk one late afternoon. “If you couldn’t be there one hundred percent, you couldn’t be there at all,” she said. “Right?”

I spun my chair to face her, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers before I spoke. “What do you mean, ‘right?’ ” I’d spent a good amount of time blaming Pamela for my misery and wondering if I should ever have listened to her. Even in my anger, however, her words made sense. How could I be a father? How could I be part of a family when my own had turned out to be such a sham?

“I’m just asking,” she answered. “Oliver, just because I said that to you doesn’t mean I was right.”

I shook my head. My emptiness wasn’t her fault. “No, you were right.”

Pamela slid into the chair across from me. “Can I say something without you getting mad at me?”

“Probably not.” Pamela had a knack for hitting things right on the head, and since I’d been in the office a lot more since breaking things off with Holland, we’d developed a relationship that felt to me the way it might have felt to have a sister. “Go ahead.”

“Well, I usually am right.” She nodded as if affirming this idea for herself. “About most things.”

“And you’re so humble.” I lifted an eyebrow at her.

“Right. That, too.” She grinned. “But I was just going to say that maybe when it comes to relationships and things…well, I’m not like an oracle or anything. I mean, look at my own life.”

“You’re a single mom. You were counseling me from that point of view.”

“Yeah. A single mom who’s never really been in love.”

That made me look up, and pulled me briefly from my wallowing. “Kenner’s dad?”

She shook her head, a sad smile on her face. “We were young. I didn’t really know what I was doing, what I felt.”

I thought about that. I’d had those relationships, too, where I wanted so badly for it to be love, but where I’d known down deep it wasn’t.

“Watching you these last couple months, though…” She paused, shrugging her shoulders and squinting at me. “You’re a disaster.”

“This talk has been fucking uplifting. Thanks so much—” I stood, ready to be done hearing about how screwed up I was.

“Let me finish?” She motioned for me to sit back down, so I complied, narrowing my eyes and ready to usher her out of my office if she didn’t get to a point that didn’t feel like another rendition of the “enumerate Oliver’s failings” tune. “You’ve been sad for a long time, Oliver. But this seems totally different from what happened to you after your parents…” she trailed off.

“Died. Lied and then died.”

“Wait, what?” Pamela cocked her head to the side.

Did I really want to tell her everything? The only person I’d talked to about it was Holland. “They lied to me. My whole life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was adopted. And they never bothered to tell me.”

Pamela actually shrugged, and I felt my anger spike. “Why would they tell you?”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t they tell me?” I couldn’t help raising my voice, but Pamela let it roll right off her.

Her voice was soft and her eyes held mine like she was looking for something inside me. “Why does it matter, Oliver?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. How could she not think it mattered? I couldn’t find any words to explain and didn’t want to lash out at Pamela. I remained silent.

“They loved you. They cared for you.” She watched my face and didn’t say anything else for a long minute. “They were your parents, Oliver. Even if you were adopted. People who adopt babies—they do it because they want them. Because they really, really want them. In some ways that’s so much better than just being born to parents who might end up hating you, or not caring. Or worse, parents who don’t even seem to notice you exist.” Pamela’s voice was quiet and I got the impression she might be talking about herself.

I felt suddenly guilty for believing I had a monopoly on pain. “I’m sorry,” was all I could manage.

We sat in silence for a long minute, both of us lost in our own thoughts. And then Pamela cleared her throat and sat up straighter. “I’m planning a shower for Holland,” she said. “I thought you might want to be involved.”

I raised an eyebrow at what felt like a suggestion more than an invitation. “Okay,” I said slowly. “Are you going to have it here?”

“With your approval.”

“Use the main conference room in this tower,” I told Pamela.

“Already booked.” She grinned at me. “I thought we’d cater in Shivago’s, but no sushi, soft cheese, or lunch meat. Pasta should be safe.”

“Good,” I said, nodding. “Get a ridiculous amount of the fried avocado spears, please.” I’d wanted to introduce Holland to Shivago’s fried avocado myself, but this would have to do.

“Sounds good. I’ve already ordered a cake from Boutineer’s across the street. It’ll have a tiny blue baseball uniform on it, and I drew a tiny version of the MLB device for them to put on there, too.” Pamela grinned as she described the cake.

My heart jumped in my chest. “Blue?”

Pamela grinned, nodding. “She’s having a boy.”

I had a sudden urge to bolt, to run. If I’d followed the impulse I had no doubt I’d have been at Holland’s side as soon as it was physically possible. We were having a boy…the news hit me like a truck. It was like a song that had been playing on endless loop that I couldn’t quite name, a song that I could suddenly identify. My baby. My son.

With a burst of certain clarity, I knew I needed to fix things. I knew it wouldn’t have been any different if Pamela had told me we were having a girl, and I hated that it had taken me this long to realize what I must have known all along. I would be in this baby’s life. I would be in Holland’s life. If she would let me.

“Oliver?”

“Perfect. That sounds good.” I was having difficulty concentrating.

“I’ve emailed the sales team, analytics, and development, and all the folks on this floor and Holland’s. Anyone I missed?”

“Sam in the coffeehouse.” I liked to include Sam, and had told him many times I’d give him a more substantial job if he ever wanted it. I secretly hoped his music career took off, though.

Pamela’s face lit up for the briefest of moments and then returned to normal. Her unwitting revelation distracted me from my own quickly turning mind, and I couldn’t help but push. “You know Sam, right? Tall blond-haired guy? Makes a mean cappuccino?”

“I know Sam,” she said, her face a mask again.

“And…?”

“There is no ‘and.’ We talk sometimes when I get coffee. He’s very nice.”

“A serious musician,” I added.

“I know.” The tiniest dreamy tone crept into her voice on those words, and I watched her, sure there was something going on between her and Sam. And if there wasn’t, I decided maybe there should be. “So,” Pamela said, clearing her throat to change the topic. “Next Friday afternoon, then. One o’clock.”

I nodded, imagining Holland at the head of the long table, glowing as she saw how many of her friends and coworkers had come to celebrate with her. Even pulling her image into my mind caused my body to react. I’d had a hard time seeing her around work lately because the impulse to push her into a closet and take her was almost overpowering. Pregnancy agreed with her, and every time I saw her, my dick went rogue. Her hair was thicker and shinier than I’d ever seen it before, the glossy waves brushing the tops of her incredible breasts as she moved. Her skin was lit with a luminance I’d never seen on another woman, and the curves that had taken over her body were completely insane. I wanted time to explore them, time to run my hands over every single inch of her incredible skin. I wanted to lie beside her and kiss every inch of her, feel the swell of her belly and make her understand how fucking beautiful she was. But she wasn’t mine now. And it was my own fault. And I was going to fix it.

“Oliver?” Pamela leaned forward, lifting an eyebrow as she met my gaze.

“Sorry. What?”

She shook her head. “I just asked if you’d be coming to the shower.”

“I’ll try,” I said, my voice weaker than I wanted it to be. I would have to fix things—there was no way I could be in the same room with Holland now, celebrating our baby, and be unable to touch her, to claim her.

“You know,” Pamela said as she stood. “Sometimes we’re ready for things when we don’t even think we are.”

“Don’t be obtuse,” I snapped. “What the hell are you saying?”

Pamela looked surprised, and her head pulled back as her eyes widened.

“Sorry,” I said. “What do you mean?”

“Just that maybe you underestimate yourself.”

I shook my head. “I’ve always had a pretty high opinion of myself, unfortunately.”

She shrugged. “You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.”