Nolan scowled and shut up. Then I noticed his remarks began to change in their direction.
“Who is looking after your daughter while you’re working late—again?” he asked one night at a meeting.
“My mother has her,” Liv replied shortly.
“Hmmm,” he muttered. “That must be difficult for her. Never having a set schedule. Kids need that.”
Liv’s eyes narrowed. “Since when did you become an expert on what kids need?”
He lifted one shoulder and dropped it.
Until the next time.
Jordan, Liv, and I were talking about another project we had on the go, discussing time frames and laughing about the fact that Bentley never stopped.
Nolan leaned against my doorframe.
“Do you have to work so much because of your student loans, Olivia? Did you ever pay those off, or are you still ignoring them?”
She turned, her eyes flashing. “I never ignored them, Nolan.” She sneered his name. “I had only finished school when we met, then I had other priorities. Unlike some people, I don’t turn my back on my responsibilities.” She paused. “And I don’t believe it’s any of your concern.”
“That depends.”
“On?” she demanded.
Again, he lifted his shoulder and shrugged. Liv turned back and look at Jordan.
“Sorry. Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?”
I curled my hands around the arms of my chair in order not to punch Nolan. It took everything in me to stay quiet and ignore the way he baited her.
Then there was the day Elly fell ill with another headache. Liv was in an important meeting with a supplier, and the woman at the day care wasn’t available to stay late, so I offered to go and get Sammy.
“But you have a meeting at five. They’re bringing the wood samples for you to compare. I can reschedule.”
I sighed. “No. You need to be at your meeting. Nolan is usually gone by four. I’ll go get her, and she’ll be fine. She can be my assistant for an hour—she’ll get a kick out of walking through the building with me and measuring things. I’ll buy her a hard hat of her own—she’ll love it. My meeting will only take an hour—maybe less.”
“What if he sees her?”
“So he sees her. He knows about us, Liv. We said we weren’t going to let him dictate our actions, and we won’t. I don’t care if he sees me with her. I won’t let him near her.”
We went back and forth until she grudgingly agreed.
Nolan stayed later than usual and saw me lifting Sammy from the back seat of my truck. I avoided the trailer, slid the hardhat on her head, lifted her onto my back for a “piggy ride,” and hurried to the building I was getting ready to start on. His crew had moved onto the next one, so it was empty and safe for Mouse to be in with me.
As we waited for the samples to arrive, I kept her busy. She held the tape measure for me as I worked. Told me how pretty the room would look in pink. Asked a million and one questions about the building, what I did, and told me how she was gonna draw and build stuff when she got big too.
I ruffled her hair.
“I bet you will, Mouse. You’ll be great.”
“I’m hungry, Mr. Van.”
I pulled a KitKat from my pocket. I had a sandwich for her in my trailer, but I didn’t want to take her there. This would suffice until I was done. I was certain Nolan would be gone by that time.
I was wrong.
He appeared in the doorway, staring at us. Mouse looked up and grinned, her innocent belief that everyone Mommy knew was a friend once again shining through.
“Hi!”
“Hi. What have you got there?”
“Mr. Van gave me a KitKat for a snack. It’s a secret,” she giggled, holding a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Mommy.”
“Anything else he does you aren’t supposed to tell Mommy?” he asked, his words so insulting, I was on my feet and heading his way before I could think. I pushed him into the hall and pulled the door closed behind me, ready to punch him.
It was only his self-satisfied expression that uncurled my fist.
I glowered at him, my voice cold and low so Mouse couldn’t hear me.
“Shut your fucking mouth.”
“Are you going to make me?” he sneered.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He shrugged. “Not my fault you took what I said the wrong way.”
“I took it the exact way you meant it. You’re a fucking bastard.”
He crossed his arms. “Is that a fact?”
I stepped forward menacingly. “You say shit like that again, Nolan, I swear, I will take you out.”
He smirked. “I was wondering, Van. Why the hell would you be so interested in another man’s daughter?”
“She is Liv’s daughter.” I stressed her name. “No one else’s.”
One eyebrow rose.
“Immaculate conception? Is that what Olivia told you?”
“Sperm doesn’t make you a father.”
“Neither does fucking the mother after the fact.”
“Shut. Your. Face,” I growled, my hands once again curling into fists.
He stepped closer, his voice taunting. “Go ahead. I think you’d like to take a swing at me. God knows I want to wipe that holier-than-thou look off your face.”
I leaned into him, our faces inches apart. Hatred poured from my words as I snarled at him. “Then let’s go outside. I’ll let you take the first swing. But trust me, it’ll be the only one you get.”
We were locked in a staring contest when Simon came up the steps and cleared his throat, breaking our standoff.
“Am I interrupting?”
I stepped back, common sense dissipating my anger.
“No. I was making sure Nolan here understood something.”
“And I was saying out loud what I think,” he replied.
“Think whatever the fuck you want to. Keep it to yourself. Stay the hell away from me, Liv, and Sammy,” I uttered in a low voice.
He stormed past me, purposely pushing his shoulder against mine. I refused to let him see the twinge of pain it caused me.
I turned and watched him walk away.
I had a feeling the ugly situation was about to get worse.
Liv
I steeled myself as I entered the trailer. I hated meeting with Nolan, and I especially hated these last-minute meetings he requested, but it was part of my job. I admit it was easier when Van or Jordan were there, but he still found ways to get his cutting remarks in and I hated the smug look he got when the guys would appear. He knew why, and it gave him more pleasure to insult me in front of them. I did my best to ignore him, and I tried not to let it upset me. That seemed to anger Nolan further and his words became even sharper, desperately trying to find a weak spot on me he could hit. I, in turn, refused to let him find it.
Nolan was at his desk, and as usual, everything was in order. Papers piled neatly, folders stacked, pens gathered together in a cup holder, and the surface of the desk clean. His hard hat and boots were lined up precisely by the wall. A cup of coffee sat to his right, a paper coaster protecting the desk. I tried not to roll my eyes at his useless touch—it was so Nolan.