Me: You know, it wouldn’t surprise me considering what you women are capable of.
Maren: Don’t forget it and let me know what the doctor says.
Me: Doctor is going to say something along the lines of, “I hope it was at least good.” To which I will say, “It fucking was.”
Maren: You need Jesus. Light a candle for yourself too. Also, I talked to Mark.
Now that is some information I was hoping to hear.
Me: And?
Maren: They filed it. So, we are, in fact, legally married.
I shouldn’t be smiling. I shouldn’t be happy that she’s my actual wife, but I am. Maren just makes me fucking happy. While I should be angry, upset, and whatever else, I can’t muster it right now. Even if I were mad, Maren is dealing with a lot of shit right now and doesn’t need me piling on. So, in a few weeks, we can get this all figured out.
Me: All right. When things settle down, I’m sure you’ll share your plan.
Maren: I will. I’ll see you soon?
Me: Yes, sweetheart. Very soon.
Maren: Thank God.
Me: You are free to call me that anytime.
I imagine her rolling her eyes.
Maren: You’re a mess. Call me later, I’m here now.
I laugh and tuck my phone away when the doctor knocks.
“Hello, Oliver.”
“Dr. Pang. It’s been a while.”
She nods. “Yes, it has. How are you? Happy to be back home?”
“Happy is . . . well, I don’t know. We’ve been busy.”
“And you got married.” Her eyes brighten as she walks over. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations. The town is very excited. I was in Jennie’s yesterday, and they were talking about how beautiful she is and wondering what’s wrong with her because she fell in love with you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with her. I am a freaking catch. A big catch,” I say.
Dr. Pang’s smile widens. “Well, you’re lucky to have her and I’m so happy that you found love.”
Most people are in love with the person they marry, and by all accounts of this town, we are madly in love, so I give her my most convincing grin. “She’s perfect.”
“Good. I always hoped you’d find someone worthy. Your siblings have all done well, and it gives me so much joy to see you have as well. Now, what brings you in?”
Is there a delicate way to broach this topic? I decide there isn’t and just blurt it out. “I pulled my groin having too much sex on my honeymoon.”
“Oh.”
I shrug. “We did it . . . a lot. And I mean . . . a lot. I have this bulge here, and I can’t walk because I’m swollen a bit.”
Dr. Pang hides her face a little and then straightens. “Okay. Let’s take a look and see.”
I cover my dick with my hand as much as I can and pull the gown over, exposing the enlarged muscle.
“I need you to lie back so I can get a better look.” I do as she says. “I’m going to press on this area. Let me know when you feel pain.”
We go through the exam, and she keeps moving me around and studying the area. After she’s done, I sit up, and she takes a seat on the rolling chair. “Oliver, where you are experiencing the swelling isn’t your muscle, it’s much higher, you are experiencing an enlargement of the lymph node. When it’s inflamed the way yours is, it usually means you’re dealing with an infection. Have you had any fevers or fatigue?”
“Not that I can think of. I’m tired, but I just finished opening the resort, got married, honeymooned, and haven’t gotten a lot of sleep recently.”
She nods. “That all makes sense. What about drinking?”
“Are you asking me out, Doc?” I joke.
Dr. Pang doesn’t seem amused. “When you drink, do you feel anything after?”
“Drunk . . .”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, well that’s fine, but sickness or pain?”
I start to say something sarcastic, but then tell Dr. Pang about how I got sick after a few beers while I was in South Carolina. She makes a note of that and then turns to face me again.
“Okay, I’d like to do a blood test to see what shows. I’m not overly concerned, but if we can find an infection, then we can treat it.”
“That doesn’t make me sound nearly as virile as pulling a muscle during sex.”
She laughs. “You can keep your story, but I think it’s important to run the test.”
“I have to drive to Georgia tomorrow. Maren’s father isn’t well, and I need to be there.”
“Not a problem. We’ll start you on an antibiotic and do the blood work here. Since you’re going out of town, I’d like to do a biopsy as well. Sometimes the blood tests aren’t as definitive as I’d like, so I’d feel better if we covered all the bases just in case. Once we figure out what’s causing the lymph node to be inflamed, we can treat it. Sound good?”
“Absolutely.”
She stands and heads to the door. There’s one thing I meant to ask, and it’s really the most important question.
“Hey, Dr. Pang?”
“Yes?”
“Can I still have sex?”
Her head shakes as she lets out an amused sigh. “Yes, but maybe go a little less aggressively.”
I would argue, but going slow, torturously slow, is just what the doctor ordered.
The drive to Columbus feels like it takes forever.
I pull into the driveway of her father’s ranch-style home, and the door flies open. Maren rushes out, and I barely have enough time to react before she jumps into my arms. I hold her to my chest, savoring the feel of her again. Nothing else matters but this—her. The woman who turned my world upside down and I drove for hours just to see.
I’ve missed her.
Jesus, has it only been three days? What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Ollie,” she says with so much reverence that my knees buckle and I sink to the grass.
With her hands on my cheeks, she pulls my head back so she can look at me with those beautiful green eyes I want to get lost in. “Hi to you too.”
She giggles. “I missed you.”
“I was just thinking the same thing. How are you? How’s your dad?”
Her lips downturn. “He’s weakening by the day. Yesterday, he had some energy, but today, he hasn’t gotten out of bed.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
“It’s okay. I know it’s coming, but I’m just glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
And I know that this is exactly where I need to be. Maren leans in, pressing her lips to mine.
“Really, Maren? Do you think we don’t have neighbors?” Linda’s chiding voice comes from the door.
“Sorry, Linda, I missed my wife.”
“You didn’t go running and leaping out the door.”
Maren rolls her eyes. “We’ll be right in, Linda.”
The door closes, and I grin at her. “Looks like we’re in trouble.”
“Not you. I’m pretty sure she thinks you walk on water. It’s just me who is the hellion.”
“Has she been bad?”
Maren climbs off me and gets to her feet. “Bad? No. Normal is the better word. I’m the horrible child who didn’t come until it was pointed out. I don’t have great manners. I don’t know my father’s needs like she does. Blah, blah, blah. It’s fine. Once Daddy is gone, I am rid of her.”
I kiss her forehead. “Always a bright side.”
“My bright side is that you’re here and you can tame the shrew.”
“For you, I’ll try.”
Twenty-Five
MAREN
I should not be this excited about him being here, but I am. I feel like a sixteen-year-old girl who just had her first date. Butterflies are swarming in my belly each time I look at him, which is crazy, but it’s how I feel.
Daddy woke for a few minutes when Oliver came in. He smiled, gripped his hand, and then fell back asleep. Oliver agreed to stay in the room while I started dinner before
Aunt Eileen got here for the night shift.
“What are you making?” Linda asks as she enters.
“Roast beef, potatoes, and corn.”
All three of my father’s favorites.
She scoffs. “He can’t eat this.”
“I know that.”
“He’s dying, Maren. He can’t eat steak.”
I bite back the sarcastic response that wants to come out and focus on cutting the potatoes. I’m well aware he can’t eat it. I know that he’s dying, and her pointing it out every fucking minute of the day is wearing me down. My heart is breaking into a million pieces because I can’t help him. There’s no amount of planning that will change the outcome, and I don’t really know how to live with that.
So instead, I’m cooking his favorite dish, hoping that just maybe the smell of it will make him feel comfort.
“He can’t, but we can, and it makes me feel a little bit of peace.”
Linda pours herself some coffee. “I’m not trying to be cruel.”
It just comes so naturally.
I put the knife down—no one needs me to kill her if she says something stupid—and take this opening as a chance to make her understand that I love my father.
“I don’t believe that’s your intention. I don’t think you purposely set out to make me feel bad, but sometimes, it’s the outcome regardless. There is nothing in the world I want more than for him to get better. My father is all I have left, and I’m trying to do whatever I can, but it’s as though nothing I do is ever good enough.”
She places the mug down. “He loves you more than you will ever know, and there were so many nights he would tell me how he wished you’d come.”
“I came when I could.” Or when you allowed it is more accurate.
“I was here always,” she says.
Yes, because she is his wife and because they moved here. The fact that it was her choice to move them from Virginia to Georgia, which is the whole reason I can’t be here as often as either of us wish I were, isn’t something she will ever admit. She refuses to admit fault in herself. No, she just plays the victim in the tragedy she created.
“Do you think that makes his love for you different?”
Linda scoffs. “I know he loves me. More than he will ever love anyone else. Our love was for the ages.”
“Then why would you not embrace me? Love me the way he did? I had no mother. I had only him, and I wanted so badly for you to fill that role for me.”
“I can’t have children. Did you know that?” I shake my head. “I wanted them more than anything. Your father didn’t want another kid, but I thought he might change his mind after we got married. Then he got sick.” I’m not sure what this has to do with me, but I stay quiet because she’s never said anything like this to me before. “All I wanted was for you to be my daughter, but you couldn’t be. Your father reminded me often that you were Abigail’s. You looked like her too, the spitting image. But your father didn’t want me to be your mother. He wanted me to be something else, something he couldn’t name. So, I stood back, trying to see what my role was. When he got sick, it was clear you hated me, as did the rest of your family. So, yes, I push you away because everyone vilifies me, never understanding what I gave up for your father. The trips I didn’t take, kids I never had, jobs I couldn’t keep because of your father’s health.”
Leaning against the counter, I let the words settle around us.
After a few seconds, I say, “I am truly sorry for the things you had to give up to care for him. It couldn’t have been easy. When you decided to move here, it broke my heart because I knew I couldn’t be there for him—or you—the way you’d want. Daddy knew that travel was difficult when I was with the agency, which is why I left. I came when I could, but I wasn’t really welcome to just pop in.”
“He would never complain to you. He is so proud of you, and all he wants is for you to be happy. I was the one who was made to suffer.”
“You could’ve asked for help.”
She shakes her head. “No, I couldn’t. Patrick is my husband, and it is my job to be there for him.”
So, she refused to ask for help but then gets upset that she didn’t have it? It makes no sense. She can’t blame everyone else for the problem she created.
There’s a throat clearing, and we both turn to see Oliver standing there. “I’m sorry, but Patrick woke up and he’s asking for you, Linda.”
The only sound is the mug hitting the counter before she’s gone. Oliver makes his way over to me. “Are you okay?”
“Years of pent-up bullshit won’t be solved in one conversation, but maybe I have a small amount of understanding into her psychosis now.”
“I know it’s not easy.”
“No, it’s not and I don’t agree with any of it.” He wraps his arms around me, and I sink into his embrace. When Oliver has me in his hold, it is easy to believe I can tackle the world—or, at least, Linda. I draw on his strength, staring up in his gaze. “But I know my father would want me to be kind to her. He’d hope that his family would treat her with respect, regardless of whether we’re afforded the same courtesy.”
He kisses the top of my head. “You are a far better person than I am.”
That statement is so untrue. Oliver is an amazing man who does things for others without any hope of reciprocation. He has a huge heart and I am falling hard for him.
He moves and winces a little. Oh, damn. “Oliver! Shit. I didn’t even ask. How was the doctor?” I ask, remembering that I haven’t mentioned it.
“Fine. They did some blood work and routine tests. She said she’ll call me this week with the results.”
“For a pulled muscle?”
“She doesn’t think it’s that. She said it’s most likely just an infection.”
I tilt my head, not having such a good feeling about that. “What kind of infection?”
Oliver sighs. “It’s not a big deal. She didn't seem concerned and put me on antibiotics. I’ll be good in a few days.”
Relief floods me. “Okay. Good. I’m glad you went.”
He sways a little, a grin painting his lips. “She also said I have no restrictions.”
“All men are the same.”
“Not all.”
“No, not all, but when it comes to that . . .”
“Hey, I just wanted to inform you of what the doctor said. I didn’t say anything else. It’s your mind that’s in the gutter.”
I laugh, which is something I haven’t done much of since I got here. “Maybe it is, Mr. Parkerson.”
“I’m not complaining.”
My finger grazes the skin right below his neck. “As soon as my aunt gets here, we can go to our hotel.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “Where I know you’ll find a very inventive way to make me forget all about the hell I’m currently in.”
Oliver tilts my head up. “I will. I’ll make you forget everything other than my name.”
I can’t fucking wait.
There’s not much in terms of luxury in this town, but the hotel is ten minutes from my dad’s place, is clean, and has breakfast, so it works. I put my uncles and aunts in a rental house where they can all have their own rooms and it didn’t cost a fortune. Plus, they can cook and drink wine without having to squeeze in a room.
Of course, my uncle John had to point out there was a bedroom for me and Oliver, which led to them all ganging up on me on why I needed privacy.
Once inside the room, it feels like our wedding night all over again. There’s this strange tension in the air. We both know what’s going to happen, but we’re being cautious.
I smile at him, and he grabs my wrist as I pass. His blue eyes are filled with an unnamed emotion.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s stupid, but . . . your uncle made a joke about your ring, and he’s right.”
“Right about what?”
“You should have an engagement ring.”
I’m only wear
ing the plain gold band that matches Oliver’s.
“Oliver, I don’t need one. A ring doesn’t show love or commitment, I would know.” I try to ease his mind.
“It’s more that . . . if we had dated and I had the opportunity to do all this the right way, I would’ve gone to your dad, gotten his permission, and bought you something that you’d be proud to wear.”
I smile softly, resting my palm on his cheek with my free hand. “We didn’t do things that way, though. We did it our way, and I am perfectly happy without a diamond. One day, if things are different and we can do this the right way, then, yeah, I’d love a ring that you picked out.”
He sighs heavily, pulling me closer. “One day, huh?”
I want that one day to come, but not now. Not because we were thrust into this relationship that became a marriage. “You’ll know when it’s right.”
And so will I, but for that to happen, I’m going to have to fix this so we can start over and do it the right way. I want Oliver to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I want him. I care about him, need him, crave him, and it’s not because we’re already married.
I would choose this man every day of the week and not think twice.
“You know it’s crazy, right?”
“What?”
“That we’re here. That I feel this . . .”
“This what?” I ask, my heart pounding out of rhythm.
His eyes are swimming with an emotion I can’t name. “Strong.”
“I feel it too.”
I lift up, pressing my lips to his. All the pain and struggles from today disappear as his tongue delves past my lips.
We hold on to each other, giving and taking each other’s struggles. Oliver lies back, taking me with him. “I want all of you, Maren. The good, the bad, all the parts that you’ve kept to yourself. All of it, I want . . . fuck, I swore I’d never feel this again.”
I felt the same way. Afraid of what would happen if I trusted someone with my heart again. This time, I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to.
A Chance for Us (Willow Creek Valley Book 4) Page 19
