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Either way, I will be risking my career. The safest option would be to end things with Leo before they went even further than they already have, thus keeping my job safe and untouched.
But then I catch sight of his smile, or hear his laugh, or see the way he is with Lilah, and all logical thinking goes out of the window and all I want is him. A relationship with him. A potential future with him, damn everything else. It is a dreamer’s desire—but could it ever be mine? Could it become my reality? Will I allow it to?
I just don’t know how tonotwant him.
“I wish the weather was like this in Chicago,” Willow says with a groan, her head tilting back to soak in the sun’s rays.
I crack a smile at her words. I am sitting on the grass in Bryant Park with her, Daria, Elaine, and Lilah. In the distance, security details linger discreetly. There is nowhere for us to be right now, as the team is practicing and Willow doesn’t have any work to do quite yet. So, we decided to take advantage of the pleasant weather in the park. The two of them invited me and Lilah along, and I could tell it wasn’t out of obligation, but because they wanted me to be here. And it feels damn good.
“Next month we probably will,” Daria helpfully supplies, opening her mouth so Elaine could pop in a grape. “Thank you, baby.”
I hum in agreement. “It’d be nice not to have to wear a bulky coat every time I step out of the house,” I say, snorting. “I can’t wait to put away—”
“Alexandra?”
I freeze at the sound of my name from a horribly familiar voice. For a moment, I tell myself I just imagined it. That there is absolutely no way that he is here, of all places, at the same time I am. It would be too cruel of a joke to play on me by the universe. But I know I didn’t imagine it—not by the way Willow and Daria both look to my right in the direction the voice came.
My muscles are stiff, laced with tension, as I turn to look to my right and see the one person I had thought I had become an expert in avoiding. I had managed to avoid him in Chicago.Whydid he have to be here in New York?
My gaze lifts, snagging on a pair of icy blue eyes, and a tight smirk graces my ex-boyfriend’s face. “I thought that was you,” Oliver says, looking down at me from where he stands just a few feet away. Too close. “What are the odds?”
“Not great enough,” I mutter, though not quietly enough because both Willow and Daria shoot me looks of confusion mixed with curiosity. Meanwhile, my heart has leapt into an unsteady rhythm, the kind that threatens to rob me of my breath in all the worst ways. Reluctantly looking up at Oliver, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
I can tell he’s annoyed by my greeting. The guy always had a big ego, too massive for his head to handle. “I’m visiting my mother. She lives here, remember?” Oliver has the audacity to look irritated at the chance that I don’t remember his mom had moved here after she divorced Oliver’s dad years ago. No doubt because his dad is as big of a piece of shit as Oliver. Must run in the family. “I’m guessing you’re here on work.”
Derision drips from his tone, especially when they are accompanied by a distasteful look thrown down at Lilah. It instantly hackles my defenses, anger piercing through me like a dagger. Even Willow and Daria don’t miss the way he speaks or the face he makes, protective expressions of their own ire taking up their faces as they glare up at Oliver. I don’t give a fuck that Oliver has always taken up issues with my job. I do care, however, that he’s looking down at a sweet, innocent little girl as if she is nothing more than the gum stuck to his shoe. He can look at me like that all he wants, but I’d sooner gouge his eyes out if he looks at Lilah that way.
The reaction is extreme and fierce, but I revel in it as I get to my feet, making sure Lilah is okay in Willow’s lap, who wraps her arms around the three-year-old. “Do you not remember me telling you I never wanted to talk to you again?” I ask lowly, hoping for the steadiness in my voice to remain. No matter the feelings of anger and resentment that rise within me where Oliver is concerned, there is also still a meek part of me that wants to cower in his presence, to keep on the route of avoidance and path of least resistance.
Oliver’s lips peel back in a sneer. “You’ve never been someone who makes the best decisions, have you, Alexandra?”
My teeth grit at the use of my full name again. The only people who refer to me by it are Oliver and my parents, and I hate it. Not because there’s anything wrong with my name; it’s just the way all of them say it—like I’m a child, like they are talking down at me instead of talking to me. An air of superiority wraps around all three of them, and I don’t know what I was thinking to ever get with Oliver in the first place if this is the kind of person he really is.
Everybody makes mistakes, I guess.
Throat working, I snap lowly, “I broke up with you, didn’t I? Definitely one of my better decisions, if you ask me.”
His eyes flash and I suppress a flinch. He had never been physical with me when we were together, but the emotional abuse and manipulation he put me through was bad enough. I’m just lucky I managed to end things and stay away from him before things could become worse than they were.
Oliver takes a threatening step towards me. “You listen to me, Alexandra. I—”
“Is there a problem here?”
Relief eases my muscles when Pierce, one of the security guards, comes up to us. He is tall, broad, brawny, and intimidating—exactly what you want in a bodyguard. He looks down at Oliver with a cold expression, and I feel my mouth twitch into a smug smirk when I see him take a step back.
“No, no problem—” Oliver starts, but I cut him off.
“Actually, there is,” I say, ignoring the glare Oliver sends my way and smiling at Pierce. “I’ve made it clear to Oliver here that I don’t want to talk to him, but he doesn’t seem to get it.”
Pierce arches an eyebrow at Oliver. “You’ve got a hearing problem, buddy?” he asks, voice hard.
Oliver pales slightly, most of his bravado melting away. “I—”
“Turn. Walk.” Pierce doesn’t give him a chance to argue, moving his frame so it effectively blocks me from Oliver.
It eases away the rest of the tension in my muscles as I mumble to him quietly, “Thank you.”
He gives me a slight nod before taking a step forward, which in turn forces Oliver to stumble back. “Jesus, fuck, fine. I’m going,” he snaps. As I’m turning away, he mutters, “She’s not worth it, anyway.”
