If You Fight(8)

The time would come for those words to be spoken and many others, but not today. For the time being, I'd take his insults and nastiness and file it all away in my mind so when the moment came that I could get my revenge, all of it would be right there for me to draw on so my hatred for him couldn't wane. 

"Will you be home at the same time as always?" I asked.

His eyes narrowed to spiteful slits as he shook his head. "I'm going to find out whose fucking bastard that was, and when I do, Serena, the two of you are going to pay."

I didn't reply to his threat. There was no point. If he ever did find out Ryder had been the father before I had a chance to exact my revenge on him, he'd be the one who'd pay. I knew Ryder well enough to be sure of that.

But that's not what I wanted. What I still prayed for every night was revenge. Sweet revenge that would show Oliver I wasn't some unwanted thing he could just discard by throwing it down the stairs.

The kind of revenge that would show him that I was as strong as I wanted to believe I could be.

The door slammed behind him, leaving me sitting alone in the warm sun. Closing my eyes, I tried to push away the ugliness he made me feel and focused on how much I wished Ryder was there with me.

* * *

The doctors told me I had to be on bed rest for a few days after getting home, but all I could think about was finding some way to see Ryder. Oliver didn't bother to pretend he cared one bit about me when we were alone in our apartment together, and each night I knew I could rely on him staying at the appraisal office until at least eight o'clock.

The problem was my father. Every evening, he seemed to have something or other for Ryder to do that kept him busy until after I knew it would be safe for us to meet. I began to wonder if he knew about the two of us, but every time I messaged Ryder about it, he tried to ease my mind and told me there was no chance he knew.

I didn't care if he found out, to be honest. What could he do to us worse than what Oliver had done already? I knew my father depended on Ryder too much to send him away. I'd probably get the worst of it from him anyway, but it would be worth it if we could finally be together.

Finally, nearly a week after coming home from the hospital, I walked down to my father's office pretending to want to see him. Maybe if I made it seem like I had something I wanted to say, he'd let Ryder go for the night so I could sneak up to his place right after finishing with my father.

For ten minutes, I lurked outside his door as he sat at his desk reading emails. Ryder saw me and gave me a tiny smile, forced to pretend that my presence meant nothing to him because two other men who worked for my father were also there.

Being so close to him yet not being able to touch him since that night in the hospital made my heart ache. I knew he was going through the same thing I was and if only we could be alone we'd finally be able to talk about what we'd lost. Neither of us had been able to do that in the hospital, but since I came home, the reality of how much I needed to speak to him about it pressed down on me every moment of the day.

"Serena, is something wrong? Why are you hovering around my office door?" my father finally yelled out to me.

I peeked my head in and smiled, putting on my happiest face. "Nothing's wrong. I just hoped to see you because I haven't since I got home."

My father's face grew stern. "You're supposed to be on bed rest, aren't you? The doctors stressed that you needed to rest to recuperate."

Left unsaid were the words after your attack, or the real truth, after your miscarriage. My father had never been the kind of man to want to talk about things like that with me, though.

"It's been almost a week, Daddy. They said I should be okay to move around now," I explained as I took a single step into the room to stand next to Ryder who stood at his post beside the door.




 

 

Sneaking a brief look at him, I saw his expression and my heart skipped a beat. Never before had he appeared so serious. It was like his face had been turned to stone, even when he looked at me.

My father closed his laptop and gave me the most genuine smile I'd ever received from him. "Sit down. I don't want you hurting yourself because you're bored in that apartment of yours. That is why you're here, isn't it?"

I wasn't sure if he knew how little time Oliver spent at home, but by the sharpness of his tone, I sensed he might and how he disapproved. He had no idea how happy it made me that my dear husband didn't care to be around me at all now.

"It does get a little boring sitting around all day," I admitted as I sat down in one of the red leather chairs in front of his desk.

He studied me for a moment and smiled again before waving away the two men standing on the opposite side of the room near the bookcases. "Perhaps if we got you a kitten you'd be happy."