He played her parting words over in his head. Was he really still in love with his wife? He got up and took the wineglasses to the kitchen. After pouring their contents down the drain and leaving the glasses on the counter top, he headed to his bedroom.
The room felt empty. Hell, he felt empty. It was past time to be honest with himself. He missed Olivia. And, more, he missed their life together and the new closeness they’d developed during his recovery. But could he forgive her? Could he let himself care for her—and for the baby on the way—when he knew they had the potential to hurt him so deeply?
No easy answers came to him through yet another sleepless night. They didn’t come through a particularly arduous time at work the next day. He was tired and more than a little bit cranky when he arrived back at the apartment at eight o’clock that evening. The last person he wanted, or expected, to see was Olivia standing at his door, waiting for him.
Seventeen
Olivia straightened the second she saw him come out of the elevator and walk toward his apartment. Her face was pale and drawn, and he fought to quell the expression of concern that sprang to his lips.
“Olivia,” he said in acknowledgment.
“I...I couldn’t wait for you to return my call. I needed to see you.”
“You’d better come inside.”
He opened the door wide and ushered her into the apartment. His nostrils flared at the trace of scent she left in her wake, and instantly his body began to react. Why couldn’t it have been like this last night? he asked himself. Why was it only Olivia who drew this reaction from him?
“Take a seat—you look worn-out,” he commented as he put his briefcase down and shrugged out of his jacket. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes, thank you. I had dinner before I drove over.”
“Were you waiting long?”
“Awhile,” she answered vaguely.
He stood and watched as she took a seat.
“Xander, is it really too late for us?” she suddenly blurted, her hands fluttering nervously in her lap. “Can you truly not find it in your heart to forgive me and allow us to start over?”
He pushed a hand through his hair and breathed out a sigh. He’d asked himself the same question over and over last night and still he had no answers. Sure, his heart told him to give in and find a way to make their way forward in their lives again, but his head and his experience emphatically told him to walk away while he still could.
The thing was, he still felt so much for her. Even now every nerve, every cell in his body was attuned to Olivia—to every nuance and expression on her face, to the gentle lines of her body, to the fact she was carrying his baby. Reality slammed into him with the subtlety of an ice bucket challenge. Except this was no challenge. This was his life. The thing was, did he want it? Could he risk everything again and start a new life with Olivia and a baby?
“Xander? Please, say something.”
Olivia’s voice held a wealth of pain and uncertainty. A part of him wanted to reassure her, to say they could work things out. But the other, darker, side remembered all too well the child he’d been, the one who’d come home from school to a house filled with sorrow and devoid of emotional warmth—remembered the void left by his brother that was too big for Xander to fill on his own. A void like that left by Parker’s death. One too painful to imagine even attempting to fill again. Love hurt, no matter which way you looked at it, and he was done with hurting.
He sat down next to Olivia, his elbows resting on his thighs and his hands loosely clasped. His head dropped between his shoulders.
“I don’t think so,” he finally said.
“At least that’s more promising than a flat-out no,” Olivia commented, although her voice held no humor.
He turned his head to look at her. Her features were so familiar to him. This was the woman whose gentle touch and quiet encouragement had helped him to recuperate and grow strong again. The woman he’d fallen even more deeply in love with as they’d lived together and made love. If he only let himself, he would be completely vulnerable to her again and to their unborn child. But he couldn’t let go. He had to make the break and make it clean and fast.
“You’d better go. We have nothing to talk about anymore, Olivia,” he said wearily.
“Not until you’ve heard me out,” she insisted. “I have a right to tell you how I feel. I love you, Xander. Not just a little bit, not even a lot. I love you with every single thing I am. Every breath I take, every choice I’ve made since I met you. It’s all about you. I know that some of those choices were the wrong ones, and I’m deeply sorry for those, but I’m learning as I go here. We both were—are,” she corrected herself emphatically.