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Her eyes drifted, and the differences of the last ten years became clear in her expression. The Olive I had dated never questioned herself. She was so confident, so clear in what she wanted. This Olive radiated something else.
It wasn't so much insecurity as it was uncertainty. The fake persona of Mallory she'd put on at the party, annoyed with me one moment and kissing me the next. Then everything about today.
When I'd first seen her again, I'd wondered what had happened to her in the last decade. But now, I didn't have to question that. She'd raised a kid—our kid—all on her own. Adam was her only family, but even if she'd had his help, it didn't compare to what life would have been like if I had been there.
"Move in with me."
She leaned back, looking up at me. "W-what?"
It was my turn to sit up, and as I did, she mirrored my movements. "Move in with me."
"Seriously?"
I couldn't tell if she liked the thought or hated it.So I took her hands in mine. "Hear me out. Everything is still your choice, Olive. As far as I'm concerned, I'm just your friend who you’re introducing to Claire. Every decision moving forward is one hundred percent yours, especially when it comes to politics and the press. But if things move as I think they will, then it's going to be overwhelming for you. And I don't know...I guess I feel like…fuck."
Why was this so hard? I took a deep breath and continued. "I guess, what I'm trying to say is that I wasn't there for you. And I know it wasn't either of our fault. But you did this all on your own. You raised her on your own."
Surprising emotion started to choke in my chest, and I forced myself to breathe through it. I was too afraid to look at her, but I tightened my grip on her hands. "And now that I'm here, I want to be truly here. And if my career changes directions and the political stuff happens, the last thing I want is to be responsible for something that negatively affects you and Claire. We don't even need to be together. I just want to get ahead of this while I still can so that I can make sure you two are set up for the positive side of things. I want to do right by both of you. And if you two were here, I don't know, I would just know that you're safe."
Olive was silent in her response, and the only sound was my heart pounding in my chest. Oh fuck. She was totally going to tell me to fuck off. Then her hands squeezed mine, and I dared a glance up at her.
Her eyes were glossy, and as she smiled, a tear slid down her cheek. "Yes."
I blinked. "Y-yes?"
She grinned, nodding. "Yes. We'll move in with you."
My heart exploded with warmth. Wiping the tears off her cheek, I pulled her closer to me, my arms tightening around her. There was only one thing left to do.
Before Claire got out of school, we went back to their apartment to pack her things. I'd offered to hire movers, but when she'd told me the place had come furnished, I realized it would be easier than I expected to move her in.
I wanted this more than anything. To get to know Claire. To be part of her life. The possibility of something happening with Olive obviously enticed me as well. She was sexier and more interesting than any woman I'd ever dated.
If I was to become a political figure, of course I would allow Olive to choose whether or not she wanted to be a part of it. Although, I couldn't deny that a very tiny part of my excitement had to do with that prospect.
The press would find out about Olive and Claire either way. At least, this way, they would be living with me. Jessie already loved Olive. And if she agreed, I'd figure out a way to explain the fake name Mallory, come up with a story about how I wasn't part of Claire's life, and then we'd be golden. We'd be the quintessential modern day family, something to make my billions a bit more relatable.
On top of it, Jessie loved kids—had three of his own—and me having a daughter would make me look that much more presidential. There was just one thing I needed to make sure of. As Olive finished packing boxes in her bedroom, I excused myself to the kitchen to get some water, except I made a bee-line for Claire's room instead.
Her hairbrush was sitting on the bathroom counter, her jet black hair tangled in it. I grabbed the bag out of my pocket, ripped Claire's hair off the brush, and slipped it into the bag.
I was sure Claire was my daughter.
But I just had to beextrasure going forward.
11
OLIVE
This was probably a mistake. It had to be. It was only a matter of time before something went drastically wrong and I realized the foolishness of my decisions. Living in a penthouse, Lucas wanting to be a part of not only Claire's life but also mine...knowing that with him, I was safe from any potential threats. Of course, this was too good to be true.
Lucas and Claire were standing at the stove, and he was explaining his secret recipe for making chocolate chip pancakes.
Side by side, they looked like mini versions of each other. Their jet black hair was identical in color and texture, and as they smiled, I noticed their dimples popped in the same places. Even the shade of their blue eyes was identical. Claire had inherited my short height, but she had Lucas's naturally athletic body type, broad shoulders, and strong legs. They even had similar mannerisms—both even scratched their hair in the same way—something I never would have believed possible if I hadn't seen it myself. Genetics ran deep, apparently.
Claire grabbed the oven door to stand on her tip toes and get a better view of the pan. My heart clenched. This was a disaster waiting to happen. But just as the oven door was about to burst open, surely knocking her over, Lucas swept her off the ground.
She burst into excited chuckles as he swung her in a circle.
