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Noah’s eyes immediately find mine and I let him see it. I let him see that it hurts me to see him with someone else. Taking it all in, the frown, the slouch, the vacant look in my eyes, his expression softens, melts in the sweetest way.
“Darling, can you come over for a minute?” Oliver’s voice carries over the chatter of the crowd. Noah’s eyes follow the path mine take and when he spots Oliver whatever flare of emotion was on his face a moment ago goes null and void. It’s like the curtain falls on his emotions.
My father greets me with a soft smile when I walk over. Oliver wraps an arm around my shoulder and I instantly stiffen, which doesn’t stop him from pulling me closer. “I wanted to let your family know that there will be a wedding soon.” Oliver flashes my father a toothy grin. His social media smile, I call it. Also known as fake af. “The sooner the better if it were up to me.”
Umm…
While Oliver smiles down at me, I’m pretty sure my face is stuck in the other F position. Also knows as wtf. My father’s eyebrows shoot up. Somewhere in the background, Bebe gasps. And I hear my mother mutter, “Dear Lord.”
Basically, he gets the same reaction from my family as if he’d announced that he’s into anal fisting, hates football, and is a vegetarian. Which he is. Strict, not even lacto-ovo. Though by the looks of him and his blood work, he makes an excellent case for it.
I look over my shoulder and watch Noah’s back retreat, walking out the same way he came in only a short while ago.
* * *
I was out of the house as soon as I heard the shower running this morning. The time has come for a serious discussion about why this is no longer working and it needs to be done after I calm down. We didn’t say a word last night. I was so angry he’s lucky to be alive this morning. All I did was escort him to the other bedroom and announce that I wasn’t going to discuss anything in the state I was in. He didn’t push, knowing that it was only going to end badly for him if he did.
Knox and I are behind the bar doing inventory when Oliver waltzes into Rowdy’s and slides onto a barstool. He removes his sunglasses and hangs them on the open collar of his shirt. “Oliver Wakefield, Maren’s fiancé.” He extends a hand at Knox.
“We’re in the middle of inventory,” I tell him, my tone indicating he’s not welcome. I don’t even address the fiancé bullshit.
Knox’s brows lift ever so slightly. “Knox Evans, nice to meet you.” Knox’s paw swallows up Oliver’s hand.
“What are you doing here?” I feel inclined to ask.
Oliver’s attention returns to me. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah, sure.” I walk around the bar and he slides off the barstool and stands.
Knox looks between us and excuses himself. As soon as we’re alone, I unload.
“How could you do that to me? You think announcing an engagement in front of an audience is going to shame me into marrying you? Did you honestly think I was going to go along with it? ’Cause I’ve got news for you, I have experience being shamed publicly and this little maneuver of yours is nothing compared to what I’ve been through.”
He looks momentarily flummoxed and that’s just too bad, he forfeited the right to know what I’m referring to the minute he decided not to work on our relationship.
“I wanted you to come home and I didn’t know what else to do. Yes, I may have been a bit precipitous––”
“Precipitous?” I interrupt, jaw hanging in disfuckingbelief. “You never asked me. I never said yes. You’re bullying me into marriage. Do you hear how bad that sounds? I’m starting to believe it’s no longer about getting married and more about you getting your way.”
“Would you have said yes?” he asks quietly, a pensive frown in place.
I look at the man I once believed would be the last lover I would ever have. It took coming back here to realize we were stuck in limbo, treading water. Stepping closer, I brush a palm over his white cotton button-down. Because I still care about him…and because there’s a lot to be said about loyalty and Oliver is loyal.
“No––and you can’t be surprised. You know things haven’t been good this past year.” I look up into his dark blue eyes. I see loss and sadness. Those are clearly there. What I don’t see is pain. “I know you felt it too.”
After a curt nod, he looks away.
Noah walks in with a dishtowel draped over his shoulder. His hard stare bounces between me and Oliver. Basically he sees us holding each other, and yet is clueless about what’s really going on. The vein in the middle of his forehead makes an appearance. Without a word, he walks behind the bar and starts…cleaning. Good Lord.
