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Oliver stops by the pharmacy to get some prenatal vitamins, and as we drive away, the doctor's words ring in my head. I don't know why but there's a faint ball of anxiety in my stomach now about losing the baby.
As if he can sense my mood, Oliver's hand creeps into my lap.
"Don't worry," he says when I look at him. "I won't let anything happen to you. Or Junior slash Juniorette."
I smile at his words, and that's when I realize that the route he’s taking doesn’t take us back to the cottage.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Somewhere special,” he says, shooting me a wink. “Hang on, you’ll see when we get there.”
I watch the expression on his face curiously but decide not to say anything else until we arrive.
We start down a winding backroad surrounded by beautiful trees. A group of birds takes flight, wings flapping energetically in the sky.
"Must be those damn birds my dad was always talking about," Oliver says.
I turn to him. "Huh?"
"You know the saying," he says. "Birds of a feather are gone with the wind."
I giggle and he glances at me with confusion. "What?
I shake my head. "Nothing. Just that I think I have to meet this father or yours."
"You probably won't," he says. "He's been dead a few years now."
"Oh my gosh." I press my hand to my chest, kicking myself at the gaffe. "I'm so sorry."
"Nah, it's fine. We weren't all that close anyway."
"Oh," I say. But then I can't resist asking. “Why is that?”
Oliver hesitates for only a second and then ventures. "My mother cheated on my father openly when we were very young. It turned him into a bitter old man but he bore it all because he loved her. He let her do whatever she wanted and she just walked right over him, verbally abused him, all of that. Up until the day she finally left him once and for all. She emptied the bank account and left, not caring how we had to struggle after that."
"That's horrible." I can't imagine a wife or mother doing such a thing. God, what an awful woman. "I’m so sorry that happened to you."
“It’s ok,” he responds. “Dad and I fought a lot, but we made our peace before he passed. And as for my mother..." He shrugs. “I guess I forgive her too. After all, what she did kind of made me who I am today. I just hope she found her happiness eventually.”
I want to say something else, but somehow I feel like this is the place to end the conversation. He might be at peace with it, and I don't think it's something he wants to relive, not even to feed my curiosity.
But I feel like I understand him more now. So much of his personality makes sense, his instant mistrust of women, his sureness they’re going to use him. His prickliness and insistence on keeping people away make sense now.
He didn’t say this, but I have a feeling that he used to be close with his mom and her abandonment hurt him more than he’s letting on.
“We're here,” he says, driving to a stop.
"Here is where exactly?" I ask. We're in between the suburbs and downtown, in front of a two-story home that's much larger than where I live now. There's only one other building on the street, a smaller cottage closer to the street with a bigger parking lot.
“Come in and I’ll show you,” he says as he comes to the side to help me out of the car.
As we approach the house, I notice the fresh finishings, and flowery decor aligning the entrance. The interior isn't furnished, but there's so much space and the warm sandy coloring gives it a homey feeling.
"This is the kitchen,” Oliver says as he directs me to it. "It’s pretty spacious and has a bunch of fancy equipment on the counter that could help with cooking."
"Yeah, I can see that," I say amused as I analyze the decked-out countertop. Through the kitchen windows, I spot a huge yard out back, overlooking a pretty pond.
"Well," he says. "Do you like it?"
