“It’s different for me.”
His big hands push the hair back off my face. “How?”
“I want to give all of it to you. I’ve never wanted to do that before. No one has ever made me want to take that chance before. My heart is yours, Oliver. The good, the bad, the entire thing is all yours.”
He kisses me again, and I pour my emotions into kissing him back. His hands skim down my back, gripping my shirt before releasing it. We move together, pulling at the barrier of cloth between us. One by one, items go flying to the floor until we’re naked, and I feel more vulnerable than ever before.
This time is different.
It feels like . . . love, not just sex.
Oliver lays next to me, staring into my eyes before his finger moves from my throat to my breast. He slowly circles my nipple, our gazes locked the entire time.
“You’re so beautiful. So soft, sweet, and fucking perfect. I could stare at you all night and never get tired of the view.”
I blush, unable to help it. “I don’t feel beautiful.”
In fact, I’m a damn mess. My hair is in a two-day-old ponytail, my makeup is nonexistent, I forgot to pack my contacts, so I’m wearing my glasses, and I’m splotchy.
Emotionally and physically.
“I don’t think you could be anything but beautiful.” He shifts down my body. “I don’t think I could ever look at you and not want you.”
“I feel the same.”
“I made you a promise,” he says as his lips press against my belly.
“You did.”
“Do you remember it?”
“I’m pretty sure it was about forgetting . . .”
He grins and then goes lower, pushing my legs apart. “It was indeed. Do you want to forget, sweetheart?”
“Not everything.”
Oliver slides his tongue against my clit. “What do you want to remember?”
“You. Only you,” I say breathless as he rewards me with another swipe.
“Good answer. Lie back and let me take away your worries.”
My fingers grip the sheets as Oliver takes his time with his mouth. He alternates between licking, sucking, and flicking. My body wars with wanting to sink into the bed and needing to buck my hips. His hands grip my legs, pushing them up even higher, and I moan as he finds a new angle.
Everything feels so damn good.
This is heaven, but it’s also hell because I know, once my orgasm comes, the ecstasy stops, and I never want that. I hang on to the pleasure with both hands, not allowing myself to let go. He buries his face even more, pushing his tongue against my clit in a merciless rhythm. No matter what I want, there’s no way I can keep my orgasm at bay much longer.
“Oliver,” I pant. “Please . . .”
His finger enters me at the same time he sucks hard on my clit, and I fall apart.
Wave after wave takes my breath away as I’m washed away in him.
He keeps going, drawing out every bit of bliss, and when he relents, I’m spent.
My fingers move to his hair, stroking as the last of the aftershocks fade.
He moves up so we’re face-to-face. “You didn’t forget.”
I grin. “Did you think I would?”
“I hoped not.”
To the women before me who broke this man’s heart, you’re stupid, and I thank you for it. Thank you for giving me the chance to love him and show him that I will never take him for granted because he is my first choice.
“Make love to me, Oliver.”
He leans down, kissing me tenderly. “I want nothing more.”
My legs part for him, not wanting to waste any time. I ache for him to be inside me. I want him to know, without a doubt, that it’s him I need.
Oliver pushes against my entrance and slides inside me. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes when he’s fully seated.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks quickly.
I take his face in my hands. “No. You’re saving me, and I’ve never been as complete as I am now.”
He doesn’t say anything, just moves slowly, making love to me with so much tenderness that I know I have no chance of not falling madly in love with him. If I’m not already there.
Twenty-Six
OLIVER
Today has been incredibly hard. We’re all sitting at Patrick and Linda’s home, waiting for the end to come. These people, who are normally full of laughter and jokes, are somber. Maren is in the room with him and Linda, both refusing to leave his side.
Eileen gets to her feet. “Someone should call Jimmy. This isn’t right.”
Jimmy is the uncle that Linda forbid Patrick to speak to.
“I already did, but he won’t get here in time,” John says.
“He should still get to say goodbye.”
Marie wipes at her cheeks. “He’s never going to forgive himself.”
John looks to me. “Oliver, would you be able to see if Maren would call him?”
“Of course.”
I get up and knock on the door. Maren opens it, and her eyes are red and cheeks are stained with tears. “Hey, any changes?”
She wraps her arms around her middle. “No, it’s minutes at this point.”
I don’t have much time to word this delicately. “Would you consider calling your uncle Jimmy and letting him say goodbye?”
Linda, who I hadn’t thought was listening, looks over. She wipes her nose and then nods. “He should get to hear his brothers and sisters before he goes.”
Maren grips my hand. “Thank you.”
“I’ll bring you some coffee.”
I don’t know why I say that, but it seems like something she needs.
I head back out, let everyone know that Maren is calling now, and then grab coffee and something to eat for her and Linda. When my grandmother died, food seemed to be all anyone wanted. Stella, who had been the closest to her, was always putting some tray of something out. She baked, cooked, and constantly made us all plates of food. So, I’m going with that same logic.
Before I can bring it in, Maren exits. “You should take a turn going in and saying goodbye.”
Everyone gets to their feet, and as they file past Maren, they make physical contact with her in some way. Either kissing her cheek, gripping her arm, or patting her back.
“Here, you should drink this and try to eat something.”
She looks at the plate and lets out a sob. I put it down and grab her, pulling her in my arms.
“He’s dying. He’s really dying, and I’m not ready.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“I’m not ready to lose him. He doesn’t know how much I love him, and I hate that I lied to him.” She looks up at me. “I lied to him, and I hate myself.”
This is what I’d been worried about. “You did nothing wrong. We’re not lying anymore, sweetheart.”
She pushes out of my grasp as her tears fall. “It doesn’t matter. He was so happy just a few weeks ago, and now . . . now he can’t open his eyes. What if I made it worse for him? The wedding . . . it took too much.”
“Maren,” I say, holding her shoulders. “That made him happy. He told you that. He needed that. You didn’t lie to him to get away with something or gain in any way. What you did was selfless, and he loves you for giving him that gift.”
Another tear falls. “I sat there, alone in that room, debating if I should tell him, but I couldn’t. I was so afraid they would be the last words he heard from me.”
“Oh, baby,” I say, wiping the tear. “Your father knows exactly how you feel about him, and I’ve never seen a parent love their child the way he loves you. You didn’t rob him of anything.”
Her arms are locked tight around me, and I do nothing but hold her. I’m not sure what else I can do but offer her whatever comfort I can. There’s a deep ache in my chest as I feel her tremble against me, making me wish I could do anything to take it from her. I would carry her burden if I could.
Eileen enters the livi
ng room, her watery eyes meet mine, and she approaches. “He’s fighting to hold on.”
Maren releases me and looks to her aunt. “Linda won’t tell him it’s okay.”
“It’s hard to do, but he needs to let go.”
They cry soundlessly, and slowly, more people trickle back into the living room after having said their final goodbyes.
Maren looks to me. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t want to be alone. Will you come in with me?”
My comfort doesn’t matter. She could ask me for anything and I wouldn’t hesitate. “Whatever you need from me.”
We walk into the room, and it’s impossible not to feel the difference in energy. It’s darker, colder, and the air feels heavy.
“He doesn’t want to leave me,” Linda says from her spot at the head of the bed. “It’s why he’s still fighting.”
Maren goes to her stepmother’s side and takes her father’s hand. “He’s tired, Linda. We have to let him go.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t.”
Maren’s chin wobbles as she stares down at her father. “He loved with his whole heart. He gave without question. He deserves to have peace.”
His daughter, the girl who loves her father enough to do the most outrageous thing to make him happy, is being so strong. My heart breaks for her as she grapples with letting go of someone she doesn’t want to. For the love of him, she’ll let go so he can be without pain.
If that’s not unconditional love, I don’t know what is.
“Daddy.” Maren’s voice cracks. “You have been my rock in this world and I am going to miss you so much. Know that you have been the best father any girl could ever ask for, but it’s time. It’s time to be with Grandpa. Go see Nana and ask her to make you some tea, but make sure she hides the sugar lumps because you’re only allowed one. Go to heaven where there’s no pain and you can breathe again.” Maren sniffs and drops to her knees, still holding his hand. “Tell Mommy I love her. Tell her all about me and how much I wish she could’ve seen me grow. I’ll be here, Daddy, making you proud, and I’m sorry if I ever gave you a reason not to be.” She stands, leans over and kisses his forehead. “I love you. I love you so much.”
She looks to me, her tears a constant stream down her face.
Linda clears her throat. “I don’t know how to live without you, Patrick, but I’m going to have to learn.” Maren gets up, putting her father’s hand in both of Linda’s. “I have loved you more than I ever knew I could. It’s okay, Patrick. I’ll see you soon, my love. Wait for me in Heaven.”
Maren makes her way over to me and I wrap my arms around her. The room is silent, save for the slow breaths that Patrick takes. Linda stays at her husband’s side, and even though she’s not very kind to my wife, it’s clear she loves her husband very much. I can’t help but wonder if Maren will still be at my side when it’s my time to go.
Is that what I want?
I’ve fought against the idea of it.
But standing here now, holding Maren, I know I have enough hope to dream of it.
Not the dying part, but the love.
I could love her so easily. I can see a future where we’re happy and live the lives my brothers and Stella are currently living. Kids, happiness, love, and family matter, but how can I trust this?
I’m not sure I can. I’ve allowed myself to think this was possible before—twice. Both times ended with me being a fool who walked away to make them happy. I don’t want to walk away this time.
I want her to stand here and want me. Not because it’s easy but because she can’t imagine her life without me.
The fear of losing her grips me so tightly that it’s hard to breathe.
I release her and Maren walks over to her father. She and Linda speak to him softly, holding his hand as his chest rises and falls a little slower with each pass. The sounds of their quiet cries echo around me.
She’s going to lose him and my heart is breaking for her. “You are so loved,” Maren whispers.
I close my eyes and tell him what I wish I could say aloud.
I’ll take care of her. I won’t fail your daughter.
They start to cry a little harder. “It’s okay, Daddy. It’s okay.”
And then he exhales and doesn’t draw another breath.
“The service was nice,” Aunt Marie says to Maren for the third time.
“Yes, it was.”
“And the casket was too,” Eileen follows up. “I’ve never seen that marble detail on the sides before.”
Maren sighs heavily and nods. Today has been incredibly hard on her. The funeral was yesterday and today, and we just said our final goodbye at the cemetery. While one might think that, after the moments that Linda and Maren shared prior to Patrick passing, some healing had taken place, it hasn’t. I’ve been stunned at every turn by the way Linda has purposely set out to exclude Maren.
Instead of allowing Maren to speak, Linda did the eulogy and spoke only about her time with Patrick. There was a brief mention of him having a daughter, but that was it. Maren wasn’t seated in the front row. She’d been directed to sit off to the side with the rest of her family. Linda’s nephew, sister, and cousins sat up front.
With every slight from Linda, Maren sank deeper and deeper into herself. Each little thing wounded her further.
We’re at her family’s rental house to get some space so she doesn’t choke her ex-stepmother, which I’ve also come dangerously close to doing.
John comes up behind us, placing his hand on Maren’s shoulder. “She’s a bitch.”
For the first time since we left the cemetery, Maren looks alive as she turns to her uncle. “How could she do that to us?”
Marie sighs. “Because some people are just vile, honey. We can’t explain it because it doesn’t make sense. Don’t you let what she did to you diminish anything. Your father loved you more than anything.”
“I have tried.”
John shrugs. “She doesn’t deserve another minute of your thoughts.”
Maren gives him a hug. “Thank you.”
“Now, no more tears. Your father would want us to eat and talk about how wonderful he was.”
She laughs a little. “Yeah, he would.”
“Well, we can handle the food part,” Eileen says.
For the next few hours, we all sit around and just talk. Maren holds my hand most of the time as she talks about her father. They all tell stories, remembering his love of his permed hair in the 70s and how, when Marie got breast cancer, he shaved his head in solidarity. According to them, he sobbed the entire time.
We laugh, drink wine, and eat.
When I die, I hope this is what my siblings do.
Let them remember with joy instead of sorrow.
My phone rings, and the number is from Willow Creek Valley. “I need to grab this,” I say before kissing her temple and standing.
“Hello?”
“Oliver, it’s Dr. Pang, how are you?”
“I’m . . . doing okay. My father-in-law passed away four days ago, so I’m still in Georgia.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she says sincerely. “I hate to do this now, but I got the test results and wanted to call you right away.”
I had completely forgotten about that. “Great. Do we have any answers?”
“Yes, and . . . I need to refer you to a doctor who can handle this.”
“You can’t prescribe me some drugs?”
I turn, looking through the window. Maren’s head is thrown back, her hands are clasped in front of her, and she’s laughing without restraint. She looks so beautiful, so happy, and I will do anything to keep her happy.
My sister was right, I needed to be here. Not just for her but also for myself. I needed to see how stupid it was to think I could close myself off and be okay.
I love this woman.
I love her, and I’m married to her, and I never want to be without her.
“Oliver, the blood work came back irregula
r, and the biopsy shows that you have cancer. You need to come home and see an oncologist—immediately.”
Twenty-Seven
MAREN
I pull into the driveway of my beach cottage, feeling as if I could sleep for days, and when I move to open the door to my car, Devney is there, opening it for me.
“Hey, Mare,” Devney says, backing up so I can get out.
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought maybe you could use some girl time.”
I start to cry again, which I swear is all I do, and hug my best friend. “I could. I so could.”
She wraps her arm around my shoulders and we go inside. She already has three bottles of wine and cookies waiting for me.
“This is perfect.”
She grins. “Good. I had very clear instructions.”
“What?”
“Your husband called on his way home from Georgia two days ago.”
“Wait,” I say with shock. “Oliver called you?”
“He did. Almost caused me to drop Cassandra when I heard his voice.”
This man continues to shock me. He called Devney, his ex and my best friend, because he couldn’t stay the extra days in Georgia with me. He had something urgent at home that he had to take care of immediately. He hasn’t said what, but I assume it has something to do with the resort.
I miss him, but I understand the pressures of work, so I’ve been trying to let him focus on that without bothering him too much.
“I can’t believe he called you . . .”
“He was very persuasive, not that it took much to convince, but it was very sweet.” Devney pours us each a glass of wine before sitting down. “So, tell me the truth, are you okay?”
I sink down, feeling like I can let it all out. “No, I’m not.”
“I didn’t think you would be. Hell, after my brother and sister died, I wanted to crawl into that hole with them, but we can’t.”
“You had Sean and Austin.”
“Yes, and you have Oliver.”
I sigh. “I do, but I worry.”
“About?”
“With my father gone, there’s no need for pretense anymore. He could end things, and I wouldn’t blame him. I keep thinking about how he should, even.”
A Chance for Us (Willow Creek Valley Book 4) Page 20
