I nodded.
She squealed and launched herself back into my arms.
Chuckling, I held her while she nuzzled into my neck, her legs kicking my knees in excitement. “This is amazing! This is so good. Yay!” Pulling away, seriousness bled through her joy. “So...are you moving in with Justin and O and me? We’ll need to get a bigger place. There isn’t another bedroom.”
O had told me she’d moved in with Justin a while ago.
But I hadn’t pried for more.
I battled the awful question. The question I couldn’t run away from.
Were O and Justin sharing a bedroom?
Were they a true family, raising my daughter as their own?
I swallowed it back, shaking my head and that nasty thought away.
So what if they were?
I had to be happy for their happiness.
I would not ruin it just because I was out early and suddenly desperate to see if I could salvage the wreckage of O and I.
“I have my own place. Not far from Justin’s.”
She looked around; searching for the guards she’d grown used to tolerating whenever she came to visit me. “So...does that mean you don’t want to live with us?” Her forehead wrinkled. “You don’t want to live with me?”
I ducked to one knee, looking into her pretty eyes. “Of course I want to live with you. I was hoping...well, I hoped you’d come live with me in my new place. I got it for us.” I brushed a lock of dark hair from her cheek, then captured her hand. “But I can see how that’s rude of me to expect you to change your life so much. So...if you don’t want to live with me, that’s totally okay too.”
My heart hurt.
I didn’t like the stares of other parents or the high-pitched chatter of other kids.
I cursed myself for being so forward when I should’ve known Olive would grow attached to Justin and O. Why did I expect her to leap back into my arms when she had a great thing going with them?
She licked her lips. “It’s not that. It’s just...um...” She kicked a pebble with her patent black school shoe. “I just have to ask them if that’s okay.”
“Completely understand.” I stood, glancing around at the mayhem of parents picking up children. I probably looked totally suspicious. Stepping back a little, I stared down a young woman who looked at me as if I was some paedophile.
Olive took my hand, tugging me gently. “I know. We can ask them right now!”
“Wait...what?” My eyes fell to hers, my body yanked into movement thanks to her tenacity.
Pulling me across the street, she grinned. “They’re here. They pick me up.”
“They do?”
“Yep.” She skipped beside me. “Sometimes it’s just O and sometimes Justin. But lately, they’ve both come to get me.”
Lately.
I swallowed hard.
Was that a sign of true love finding separation excruciating?
She pointed up ahead. “That’s O’s car.”
My legs suddenly turned into pillars of concrete. I stopped without thinking; fear a tangible thing in my blood.
O lounged against her car, waiting for my daughter. Her gorgeous face was framed by long dark blonde hair. Her smile was carefree and genuine.
And beside her was Justin.
My chest crumbled as he shoved her, mid-laugh, as if she’d ribbed him and he’d retaliated. Their body language was loose and happy, smiles full of affection.
I’d given Justin permission to chase her if she’d wanted to be chased.
I wouldn’t stand in their way if they got married or wanted nothing to do with me now I was free, but I couldn’t deny that my heart fell into a blender and sliced to pieces. A salsa of pain. A rain of ruin.
“Come on.” Olive tugged my hand, yanking me toward the two people who meant so much to me in different ways. Doing my best to keep my face neutral and ordering my arms not to reach out and snatch O, I smiled the best I could as Justin’s gaze met mine.
He froze.
O looked to where his eyes had locked.
She froze too.
For a second, guilt flashed over her face before a huge grin split her lips and she charged toward me. “Gil!”
I braced myself for her hug, unable to fight the urge to bury my face in the crook of her neck. She felt so warm and soft and right.
She felt like home.
Justin came over, pulling me into an embrace after O let me go. “Mate, how the hell are you here? Why didn’t you tell us you were out?” He slapped me on the shoulder. “Did you just get released? We could’ve picked you up.”
I hugged him back, gratefulness a warm Band-Aid over my bleeding heart. “Don’t get mad but I got out a few weeks ago.”
Olive’s face scrunched up, dragging my eyes down to her level. “You didn’t come see us straight away?”
Us.
Not me.
Us.
Like it or not, she’d made a family with O and Justin. Whatever our joint future held, I would share Olive with them. I wouldn’t take her away. Not after nineteen months of them being together.
I kept my voice neutral of pain. “I wanted to have a home before I came to you, little spinach. I can still call you that, right?”
She frowned. “Yeah, but I don’t know why you didn’t come find us sooner. You wasted all that time when we could’ve been together.”
“I didn’t waste it. I used it to get my painting back on track and fix what I’d broken.”
“Huh.” She crossed her arms, still annoyed. “I still think you should’ve told us.”
Her firecracker temper made me chuckle, but I swallowed it back, staying serious. “I agree. It was wrong. Can you forgive me?”
Her lips twitched. “I suppose so.”
“Phew.” My eyes trailed to O as understanding glowed on her face.
“You’ve been painting,” she said softly. “I haven’t been online lately...I should’ve checked your page.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“It is. A great surprise.” She smiled. “So...you’re working?”
I nodded. “A few commissions.”
O’s hazel eyes warmed with a thousand different things. “That’s wonderful.” She understood why I needed to repair myself on my own terms. She got why it was important that I came to them whole and not ask for more hand-outs.
“That’s great, Clark.” Justin patted me on the back. “Guess you’ll be slammed with work again. No rest for the wicked.”
“He’s not wicked,” Olive piped up. “He might’ve been sent to prison, but he isn’t wicked.” She stepped closer, and I wound my arm around her delicate shoulders.
“Thanks for having my back.”
“Anytime.” She winked, filling my chest with love.
O watched us, the same kindness and gentleness that’d always drawn me to her spilling from her soul. “Olive’s missed you. We all have.”
I couldn’t look away from her. “I’ve missed you.” Clearing my throat, I added, “All of you. I missed everyone.”
O tucked flyaway hair behind her ear. “Do you...do you need somewhere to sleep? You’re welcome to come home with us.”
Two words that left literary power and became physical as knives.