Page 122 of The Contract Marriage

Nodding, he asks some questions and checks me out again, to make sure everything’s all right. Then he prescribes what doctors often default to: Relax, don’t stress, rest.

After he’s gone, I sigh and slump against the pillows, then shiver as a chill settles over me. I could have sworn it was Liam who pulled me out of the water…but was that just wishful thinking?

I lay a hand over my heart. I’d break all my ribs for a chance to be held by him again.

Chapter Fifty-One

Liam

After the paramedics rush my wife to the hospital and the doctors check her over, I just stand and stare at her pale face. The long lashes press against her colorless cheeks, and her hands feel like ice in mine.

It looks so wrong to see her like this. She should be vibrant. Driven and happy that her revenge is almost complete, rather than just…lying there like a drowned ghost.

Not drowned, I correct myself harshly. I pulled her out in time. The baby is probably okay. Has to be okay.

I tighten my hold on her hand, wishing I could go back in time. If I hadn’t looked away… If I’d just gone over and said hello like a civilized man, Tyler would never have had a chance to hurt her.

Please, God. Save her and our baby. I’ll do anything. I won’t even be greedy about wanting her. She already made my place in her world clear. I’ll accept that decision without protest. But…please just save her.

As soon as the doctor tells me Olivia and the baby are out of danger, I lean forward, resting my face in my palms, my elbows propped on my knees. Thank goodness.

I remain like this for a while, until my shaky breathing evens out. Then I text Simon to come take care of Olivia. Even though I swore I’d do anything to see her open her eyes and look at me, I don’t know if I can bear it, especially when I know she won’t want me around. She might have some fondness for a pawn she meant to discard from the beginning. She might’ve been surprised that the pawn was more useful than she imagined, but is it enough for her to want me to stay?

And do I even want her to keep me, when it would be out of guilt or obligation?

I run my hands over my face. That would be a terrible foundation for any relationship. She’d come to resent me for outliving my usefulness. She might even hate me for sticking around when there’s no place for me in her post-revenge life.

Best to just let her go. I wasn’t simply being selfish when I decided I wanted everything or nothing. I don’t want my presence to be a source of friction between us.

By the time I speak to the hospital’s billing department to ensure they send all bills to me and return to her room, I spot Simon walking inside. It burns me that he can enter like he’s entitled to occupy a space in her life. But he’s the best choice at the moment.

Swallowing the bitterness, I wait by the door until I hear movement and her voice. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but it sounds like she’s out of the woods.

Every muscle in my body tenses with the need to go inside and check for myself. But I know better. If she sees me, her eyes will shutter like they did before. She didn’t have an answer when I said I couldn’t be an extra in her life anymore, and that probably hasn’t changed.

She’s fine. The baby’s fine. That’s what matters.

As for Tyler…

My jaw tightens. What I did to him by the pool was nowhere near enough to make up for his violence against my wife and child. I told the police I’d be back later to answer whatever questions they have after I was sure my wife was all right. Jeremiah was at the party, and once the police saw that she was my lawyer, they went along with the idea.

I change out of my wet clothes and into a T-shirt and jeans from the mall and drive to the police station. Whispers buzz from every corner—everyone’s apparently heard about what happened at Ted’s party. So many people pulled out their phones. And of course now it’s probably all over social media.

One of the desk sergeants comes over. “Hey, you’re that guy from the video, right? Here to make a statement?”

I nod. “Where do I go?”

He leads me to the back. I walk into a cramped office with a desk that saw better days twenty-five years ago. A brown-haired detective who looks like he’s suffering from chronic insomnia and a coffee allergy looks at me. “So. You Liam Kingswood?” His voice is surprisingly sharp and clear.

I nod.

“Great. We just need to—”

“Stay away from my client, Steven. You know the drill,” says Jeremiah, walking toward us in a bright scarlet dress. I can see the matching bikini straps over the neckline.

“Come on, Jeremiah. He’s a witness. Besides, he rescued the victim.”

“Her name is Olivia Kingswood, not ‘the victim,’” I say, hating the label. She’s a survivor. People just don’t see the wounds underneath her gorgeous face and calm expression. She deserves respect, not pity.