Thief .(52)

“I can’t forgive you for that,” I said. “You have a responsibility to protect something you gave life to. You could have talked to me about it. I’ll always be around to help you.”

I saw some color come back into her cheeks.

“You mean … help me while we’re divorced?” She lowered her head and looked up at me. I thought I saw some fire in her irises.

I didn’t say anything. We were locked in a staring contest. That’s exactly what I meant.

“If you don’t stay with me, I’m not keeping this baby. I have no intention of being a single mother.”

“You can’t be serious?”

Never did I think she would threaten me with something of this nature. It seemed beneath her. I opened my mouth to threaten her — to say something I’d probably regret, but I heard footsteps. The brisk kind that said doctor.

“I’d like some privacy to talk to my doctor about my options,” she said, quietly.

“Leah-”

Her head snapped up. “Get out.”

I looked from her to who I presumed was Doctor Letche. Her face was pale again, all the anger gone.

Before the doctor could say anything, Leah announced that I was leaving.

I stopped in the doorway and without turning around, I said, “Okay, Leah. We’ll do it together.”

I didn’t need to look at her face to know it held triumph.





I have a decision to make. I’m pacing it off. That’s what my mother would call it, pacing it off. I did it as a kid, across my bedroom. I guess I never grew out of it.

Olivia is making her decision, whether she knows it or not. Noah is going to come back for her, because she’s that girl, the one you come back to again and again and again. So, I fight. That’s it. That’s my only option. And if I don’t get her, if she doesn’t choose me, I’m going to be that guy—the one who spends his life alone and pining. Because I sure as hell am not going to replace her with any more Leahs or Jessicas or any-goddamn-body else. Fuck it. It’s Olivia or nothing. I grab my wallet and keys and jog down the stairs instead of taking the elevator. I go directly to her office. Her secretary holds Olivia’s door open for me as I step in. I smile at her and mouth my thanks.

“Hi,” I say.

She’s in the middle of sorting through a mound of papers, but when she sees me, she smiles — all the way to her eyes. Almost as quickly, the smile sinks out of her eyes and the lines of her mouth firm into a straight line. Something’s up. I walk around her desk and pull her against me.

“What’s wrong?” I kiss the corner of her lips. She doesn’t move. When I let her go, she drops into her swivel chair and looks at the floor.

Okay.

I grab a chair and pull it up to hers so that we’re facing each other. When she spins her chair away from me to look at the wall, I know some type of shit has hit the fan.

Please God, no more shit. I’ve had about all the shit I can handle.

“Why are you being so cold with me?”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“What?”

“This,” she says, motioning between us. “It’s so wrong.”

I rub my fingers over my jaw and start grinding my teeth.

“We are kind of experts on doing what’s wrong, no?”

“Ugh, Caleb. Stop it. I’m supposed to be thinking of ways to make my marriage work. Not building a new relationship with someone else.”

“Building a new relationship with someone else?” I am confounded. “We’re not building anything. We’ve been in a relationship since before we were actually in a relationship.” In actual fact, I tell people we were together for three years, even though it was only one and a half, because I was emotionally with her from the moment we met.

“Why are you saying this, now?” I say.

She opens a bottle of water that is sitting on her desk and takes a sip. I want to ask when she started drinking water, but I’m pretty damn sure my non-girlfriend is trying to end our non-relationship, so I stay still and quiet.

“Because it’s better for everyone if we’re not together.”

I can’t keep the sneer off of my face. “Better for whom?”

Olivia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Estella,” she says.

It feels like someone has reached a hand into my belly and grabbed hold of my organs.

Olivia is chugging her water, her free hand limp in her lap.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I haven’t heard her name in a long time. I’ve thought it plenty, but Olivia’s voice wrapping around the syllables is jarring.

Her nostrils are flaring as she breathes. She still won’t look at me.