She nodded. “He’s four. He’s with his dad tonight, so I thought I’d catch up on a few things.”
“I’m sorry, I should have known you had a child.” I ran a hand over my beard. “I’ve been a little self-absorbed lately. Or maybe always.”
“With good reason,” she said, her voice full of understanding. “Did you have dinner? I can order something before I go.”
I shook my head. “Not yet.” As I thought about it, I realized I was starving.
Pamela followed me into my office with a fistful of menus. I sorted through them and held up a sushi menu. “My treat. Stay and have dinner.” I didn’t know why I asked. I had come back to the office to be alone, but her quiet, stable presence was welcome and kind of a comfort.
She cocked her head to one side as if listening to a voice I couldn’t hear and then said, “Okay, I will. But only because you chose sushi. If you’d picked southern barbecue, I’d be outta here.” A playful grin flitted across her features.
We ordered, each working silently until Sal downstairs rang up to let us know our food had arrived. We set up dinner over the table in my office and for the first time, I sat down with Pamela and found myself in very pleasant company.
“What’s your son’s name?” I asked.
“Kenner,” she said, looking slightly embarrassed. “His father is a preppy.”
“And you and his dad are…?”
“Both living our own lives, but sharing parenting responsibilities.”
I nodded, thinking about that. “Is it hard?” I asked.
Pamela wrinkled her forehead at me as she ate a bite of salmon. When her mouth wasn’t full she said, “What? Parenting in general is hard as hell. Seriously, I’ve never felt so outgunned, outsmarted, or undone as I have been by the little man who lives with me. He’s a deviant genius in a tiny body.”
The laugh that escaped me was rueful. Would Holland’s child be a deviant genius? “He sounds fun, actually.”
She shook her head. “Sometimes it’s fun, but the stakes are so high, sometimes it just feels impossible.”
I thought about that for a minute. “You’re not alone, though,” I said. “Kenner’s dad helps?”
She nodded and then put down her chopsticks, giving me a frank look. “Do you want to talk about things, Oliver?”
“What?”
“The questions. It feels like you’re trying to solve a mystery here.” She seemed to be thinking about something, and then said, “Do you want to talk about Holland?”
I couldn’t help staring. Was she fucking clairvoyant? “What?”
She shrugged and leaned back in her chair. “I know you think you’re very sly, but everyone on this floor knows you’ve been seeing Ms. O’Dell.”
“Did she…?”
“I doubt she’s actually said a word to anyone but me. But she needed a friend.” She shook her head slowly and picked her chopsticks up again. “But even if Holland and I weren’t friends…you’ve been calm and happy since you’ve come back—for the most part, at least. And Holland O’Dell has been around a fair amount, and her name comes up.”
“That’s because of her involvement in the MLB deal,” I pointed out, covering, though I couldn’t have explained why. I wanted to talk to someone about Holland. Maybe this was an opportunity. I sighed. “But you’re not wrong. I guess you already know that, though. Holland and I are involved. That is, we were.”
“And…”
“It’s just…it’s complicated.”
“Because she’s pregnant?” Pamela asked around a ball of rice.
I squinted at her, unsure how much to say. I was surprised Holland had confided so much. It hurt my heart to think of my duchess needing a friend, but I was glad she’d found one. It would be a relief to have someone to talk to. I dropped Pamela’s gaze. “But I don’t think the baby’s mine.”
Her face remained expressionless. She wasn’t giving it away if she knew the truth. “There are ways to find out for sure, you know.”
I stared at her, trying to decide how much to tell her about my thoughts, my suspicions. If she was friends with Holland, maybe this wasn’t the best idea. But I had no one else to talk to, not really. I decided to go all in. “I know. I’m not sure what to do.” I told her the story about going to Holland’s, about finding the brochure, accusing Holland of lying to me.
“Do you really think she’d do that? Plan things so carefully to entrap you?” Pamela’s voice was skeptical. But even if Holland had lied to me, had planned things this way, she wouldn’t have told Pamela that part.
The old darkness filled me. “She’s pretty big on plans, actually.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes, Pamela watching me thoughtfully and me trying to think of other things to prevent myself from having to throw something. Her voice interrupted my misery.
“It took a while for Kenner’s dad to decide he wanted to be involved. We weren’t married. I was working as a receptionist in one of the other towers, and your dad had always been friendly when he came over for meetings and things. There was one day, where I just didn’t know how I was going to do everything—I was broke, I was alone, I was young…and he found me crying. I didn’t have anyone to talk to. Adam talked me off a ledge and helped me see that I could do it myself, that I’d be okay. He also bought me a crib and came to the hospital when I was in labor. He was right outside through the whole thing, and when Kenner was born, he flew in to see if I was okay. Adam held my son before I did!” Pamela smiled as she said it, her eyes misting. I knew she could see the memory in her mind as she described it.
“Adam did that?” I couldn’t believe it. I tried to remember Adam four years ago when Pamela would have been having Kenner, but I couldn’t find a memory of him talking about anything like this.
“He was very discreet, and he spoke to John—Kenner’s dad—when he finally showed up at the hospital to meet Kenner. I have no idea what he said to him, but it was enough to make John stick around for those first couple weeks when things were really hard.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I didn’t know…”
“He and your mother were very kind to me. And Adam gave me a raise and helped me get Kenner placed in campus daycare even though there were no openings.” Her voice had gotten quiet, and she was sitting, tracing a line on the table with her finger. After a long silence, she looked back up at me from under the soft line of hair falling in her eyes. “Now you see why I’m loyal to your father.”
The way she talked about Adam had caused a longing inside me, an emotion I didn’t want to feel that made me wish for things that were impossible. To talk to Adam again, to have my mother’s arms around me. I wanted to hate them for not trusting me with the truth of my adoption, but it was becoming more and more difficult in the face of my lingering love for them. I cleared my throat, hoping to push down the emotion that had welled up.
She fixed me with a gaze that was evaluative, her light brown eyes unreadable. “Here’s the thing, Oliver. Do you love Holland?”
I had already admitted it to myself. Hell, I’d already said as much to her. I did love Holland. I nodded.
“What do you think about fatherhood? Are you ready for that?”
“I don’t know,” I said, something uncomfortable turning in my stomach at her words.
“First time moms don’t know, either,” Pamela said. “But we don’t get a choice. We get just under a year to wrap our heads around it and then it happens, ready or not.” She paused, watching me, and then continued. “Having a baby changes everything for a woman. Things I’m not sure men can understand, and maybe they don’t need to. But that switch, that process of going from thinking about yourself to thinking of someone else first—having a baby rewires every circuit we’ve got and things never really shift back. So what is happening to her now—what will happen to her—it’s huge.”
I nodded. I got that.
“Whether it’s your baby or not—and for the record, there’s not a singl
e doubt in my mind that it is—you need to figure out if you want to be involved, and it’s a choice you don’t get to make and then unmake. If she has a partner in this, she needs to know that and feel confident about it.” Pamela narrowed her gaze and her voice lowered. “But if there’s any part of you that isn’t sure you’re in—really in…She might love you, but if you’re thinking of this as an optional situation in any way, or planning to decide on your level of involvement later…she’s better off without you. Even if she doesn’t see that yet.”
I let her words sink in and stood, thinking as I paced the room with Pamela’s words reeling through my head.
The anger I’d felt over finding the brochure had dissipated, and I was left feeling stupid. I’d jumped to one huge fucking conclusion, and had potentially ruined everything I’d just barely gotten back. But the time had given me a break to think about being a father, having a baby. What if it was mine? I’d been completely blown away when Holland first told me, the idea of my blood running through a child’s veins, of seeing part of me in another person, had been overwhelming. It had seemed like the answer to the question that had been hounding me since I’d found out about my own adoption. But with the distance I’d had over the last week had come a swarm of creeping doubts. Was I really ready to be a father? I knew I loved Holland, but what if I couldn’t do it? What if it was too much? The last thing I wanted was to try and then let her down. “I don’t like this at all,” I said.
Pamela shrugged but her eyes were sympathetic. “She’s a package deal now,” she went on. “And if you’re not completely committed, you might as well get out now. Give her time to settle on her own—or to find someone else.”
Fire spiked in my blood at the thought of someone else in Holland’s life, but I knew it wasn’t fair to feel that way. If I couldn’t commit one hundred percent to being a father, I had no place feeling jealous if someone else could.
“You don’t mess with a single mom,” Pamela said. “Take it from a single mom. We’ve got enough shit on our plates.”
My heart sank as I raked a hand through my hair. Pamela was right.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I told her. “But it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”
Pamela put the last of the food into the garbage can and moved to the door. “I should get home,” she said. “You okay?”
I nodded and thanked her, and then sat down behind my desk and dropped my head into my hands. A familiar blackness was edging in around the sides of my consciousness, and the deep sadness I’d kept at bay for so long threatened to envelop me again.
Chapter 24
Holland
At less than three months into my pregnancy, my body looked pretty much the same, but I was an emotional disaster. Talking to Pamela had made me feel better, at least a little bit, but I found myself in tears over ridiculous small things—like not being able to get a lid off a jar of peanut butter—and I worried the baby was actually causing me to lose my mind. I didn’t hear from Oliver for weeks after he found the stupid brochure in my apartment, and I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to him any more than I already had. When I saw him at work, he spoke to me only about business, leaving me feeling more empty than ever.
My apartment was a dark cave in which I moped and wallowed like an increasingly large and grumpy bear, and I worried that my butt was making a permanent indent in the center of my couch. It would match the permanent hole Oliver had left in my heart, at least.
In the midst of getting everything I’d ever thought I wanted, I felt more sad and alone than ever. Delia had taken to dropping by, bringing baby gifts—mostly passing on things her girls didn’t need anymore. It was a relief, actually, to see a small pile of baby things growing in the corner of my living room. The baby swing, the first car seat. I’d priced those things online and had no real clue how I’d manage to pay for them all. But Delia—and Pamela, too—reminded me that I wasn’t completely alone in this. And soon, I thought, I’d never really be alone again.
When Oliver showed up at my apartment after work on a random Tuesday night, I had no idea what to expect. He looked haggard and worn, his eyes dull and downcast.
“Hi,” I managed, standing in the open door.
He stared at me, his eyes tracing my face and making me both self-conscious and slightly overheated. “Hi,” he returned. His voice was heavy and rough. It made me want to reach out and comfort him, but the thought reminded me that I was angry, that he’d accused me of lying, that he didn’t trust me.
“What do you need?” I asked, keeping my voice as steady as I could.
He shook his head, ran a hand through the hair at the back of his neck. “Can I come in for a minute?”
I shrugged and stepped back, waving him in. He walked to the couch and sat down. I watched his gaze find my growing tower of baby goods in the corner.
“We need to talk,” he said.
I didn’t sit. I needed to stay strong even if I didn’t feel strong, and that meant standing. Remembering who I was and that I’d done nothing wrong here. “You can talk,” I said. “You can start with an apology.”
That caught his attention and he looked up at me and raised an eyebrow. “You deserve one,” he agreed. “I jumped to conclusions, and it wasn’t fair. I believe you. I believe that the baby is…” His voice trailed off and his gaze fell.
“It’s yours.”
“Right.” He looked up at me. “God, Holland.” He rubbed his hands up the sides of his face, and that was when I noticed again the dark lines around his eyes, the pallor of his cheeks. His voice sounded like gravel.
Despite my resolve to keep my distance, to be angry, I couldn’t help the way my heart squeezed at the pain in his voice. I loved this man, even after weeks of anger, even though he’d hurt me. “Are you okay?” The solemn dark eyes found mine, and the sadness I saw there made me want to cry. I sat beside him, my guard melting. “What is it?” I whispered. Something must have happened. What else could have Oliver looking so completely devastated and upset?
Oliver took my hand as we sat, and he looked at it like he thought he might never see it again and wanted to memorize every line and scar. Finally, his eyes met mine and I found myself wishing for another few seconds before he spoke. Or maybe another few hours or days. Whatever was about to come couldn’t be good, and I felt my heart beating faster in anticipation of whatever it was.
“I don’t know how to say this…” he began and then trailed off, dropping his eyes again to my hand.
“Say what?” My own voice was small and afraid. I cleared my throat and straightened my back, pulling up some strength. Whatever it was, I’d handle it. I wasn’t the kind of girl who let life beat her up without a fight. “Just say it, Oliver. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”
A tiny smile crossed his sculpted lips, but it wasn’t a happy smile. His eyes flicked to mine and then dropped again. “I’m in love with you, Holland.”
“I love you, too,” I said, my body warming. But something was still not right. This wasn’t a reconciliation. My heart went still and I realized that hadn’t been the thing he needed to say. A shiver went through me. “What?” I whispered.
Finally, he met my eye, and I saw his CEO persona slide into place. His face cleared, the dark eyes turned to steel. “My feelings for you don’t matter,” he said. “Because what matters right now, and what will matter for the rest of your life, is the baby. You’re a ready-made family, and loving you means being ready to accept the role of father without any resentment, second thoughts, or harbored regrets.”
My blood iced and I pulled my hand from Oliver’s. “And…?”
His lips pressed into a hard line as he stared at me, and he said nothing. After what felt like an hour, his eyes softened and he opened his mouth and then closed it. He swallowed hard and then said the words I’d been afraid he would say since the moment I’d told him I was pregnant. “You de
serve the very best, Holland. You and our baby. You need a man who is prepared to dedicate his life to his family, who knows with one hundred percent certainty that he is ready to be a father.” He shook his head. “I don’t know that. I love you, I definitely know that. But I don’t know if I’m ready for a family. I’m still so fucked up over everything that happened with my parents—and this all happened so fast. I don’t want to screw things up, and you need someone who’s sure.”
I couldn’t speak. I felt like he was cutting a cord between us and setting me adrift alone on some vast unknown lake. I could see the fear flickering in his eyes and I wanted to scream at him for being a coward. Couldn’t he see that I was afraid, too? But I had no choice. Anger pulsed in me, and then a sense of betrayal overwhelmed me, mixed with an infinite sadness. Everything flooded my mind at once, and I was completely overwhelmed. I felt myself shaking my head.
“I’m so sorry, Holland. I want to be here, I want to stay. But it wouldn’t be right to change my mind later. What if the baby arrived and I realized then that I couldn’t do it? What if it took me a year to see that I couldn’t be a father, that I’m not cut out for it?”
Anger was winning out over the other emotions and my cells felt like they were vibrating within my limbs. I stood and walked away from him, spinning to face him from the center of my living room. “That’s fine,” I said, barely able to speak past the indignant rage I felt. “You’re right, we’ll be better off than we would have been if you’d pulled this shit a year from now.” I turned away from him and shook my head, pressing my hands to my face and hoping the tears would remain at bay until he was gone. “It must be nice to have a choice,” I bellowed, turning to face him again. “Don’t you think I’m scared? I don’t know if I’m ready for any of this, either, but this is what’s happening. I think life just comes at you, Oliver. You don’t get to control every little aspect of it, you just get to react.”
Mr. Big Page 21
