Guilt squeezed me again, but I kept pushing it away. I had nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing.
“No but we had fun playing one night. She’s a natural.” I beamed, forgetting as I sometimes did, that Olive wasn’t mine. That her skill at dancing didn’t come from me but someone else. Maybe someone in Jane Tallup’s family tree had been a dancer, lithe and limber like I used to be. “I was going to tell you...we wanted it to be a surprise next time we came to visit you.” I smiled. “But you visited us instead.”
Gil’s gaze caught mine, holding for long enough to make my heart skip a beat. The green shone with gratefulness and pride.
He cleared his throat, saying, “She’s always been quick to learn.” Turning to grin at his daughter, he added, “You’ll have to show me a few of your moves.”
Olive’s face lit up. “Why don’t you come to my practice tomorrow? I’m still new there, but you can watch.” Her eyes dipped with shyness. “Then maybe I could have a sleepover here...with you.”
Gil’s face turned serious and intense. “I’d love that. I’ve love that very much.”
“Great.” Olive spun in place, her arms flying out in a messy pirouette. “It’s a date.”
Gil looked at me again.
That hissing, licking need that always consumed me around him raced down my spine.
It’d been almost two years since we’d talked in private.
Two years where his daughter hadn’t been there—a sweet distraction from our honesty.
If Olive moved back in with Gil tomorrow, I’d lose my chance to be truthful.
To tell him exactly how I felt.
To tell him honestly what’d happened between Justin and me.
I owed him that.
I owed him transparency because he was home now, and we were family.
And family didn’t keep secrets.
While Gil drifted off and made plans with Olive for tomorrow, I made plans to return tonight and fight for our future.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
______________________________
Gil
I SAT AT the dining room table doing what I did best.
Painting.
The sketch I’d done of a ballerina with musical notes dancing around her, signified both O and my daughter. Olive had been taking dancing lessons. What else had I missed while being in jail?
Everything.
Dipping my brush into the water glass, I opted for a fuchsia watercolour, highlighting the ballerina’s slippers.
I’d missed O and Justin getting close. I’d missed joking and arguing with Olive. I’d missed restaurants and moonlight strolls.
But at least the things I’d missed had given me redemption. They’d wiped my future clean, so I was at peace to enjoy those things. Deserved to enjoy those things.
Looking up, I studied Olive’s bedroom. The apartment was small and both bedrooms entered straight onto the living area. The decoration I’d purchased and prepared, the hope I’d nursed, all sat hushed and waiting.
Tomorrow, I would get to see Olive dance. I’d no doubt suffer reliving a past where I’d watched another girl dance for me, and then I’d say goodbye to O and Justin and bring Olive home.
We’d start slow.
One night to see if she still loved me enough to live with me.
Another night if she wanted to stay.
Then possibly, hopefully, a whole week, where I’d be privileged enough to take her to school, cook her dinner, and help with her homework.
Swirling the brush in water again, I swiped the thin, soft bristles in aquamarine to decorate the dancing notes and threads of music ribbon.
A knock resonated through my front door, wrenching my head up.
My eyes narrowed. Suspicion that’d saved me from a few beatings in prison made my instincts prickle. Who the hell would visit me at eleven in the evening?
The knock came again.
I stood and strode across the small lounge. With muscles tense for confrontation, I unlocked the door and ripped it wide.
O flinched, her hand flying to her chest. “God, you scared me.”
I froze. “I scared you? You’re the one on my stoop at almost midnight.”
“Sorry, I—” She blushed; her tongue licked her bottom lip. “I admit it’s a little late. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Her skin glowed as if imagining me in bed made her hot.
Suspicion bled into lust in a single heartbeat.
She couldn’t be here.
I didn’t have the strength.
My hand curled around the door handle as I fought the urge to slam it in her face. Better that than snatching her wrist and jerking her into a kiss.
And not just any kiss but a full-blown nuclear meltdown of a kiss.
“You need to leave.” I braced myself, inching the door to its closed position.
Her hazel gaze widened. Her mouth parted. “You’re kicking me out without even inviting me in?”
The way she looked at me.
The way her entire body invited me to take.
I swallowed hard. “You can’t come in, O. Not tonight.”
Her face fell. “Why?” Her question was soft...almost a whisper, but it ricocheted through my blood.
I went to lie.
To tell her it didn’t matter. That my reasons were my own.
But...I’d made a promise to stop staying silent.
Truth was the only way forward.
Every muscle locked in place as I muttered, “Because I’m recently released from prison. I haven’t been with anyone in a very long time. The last person was you. And you’ve always been my person.” I cleared my throat, my voice growing raspy and harsh. “But you’re not my person anymore. And I respect that, so I need you to respect my request for you to go.”
Her arms wrapped around herself. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting honesty.”
“Yeah, well. That’s what you’ll get from now on.” I raked a shaky hand through my hair. My self-restraint had frayed so much around the edges, and I was hanging on by a fucking thread. “Please, O. Go home. Go back to Justin.”
O ducked her head, her eyes skating down my body with fire. “Not yet. I came to talk to you. It’s important that we talk.”
“Talking isn’t going to be my strong suit tonight.” I angled my hips away, doing my best to hide just how much my body didn’t want to talk.
I was so hard, it hurt.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for almost two years, Gil. At least give me ten minutes.” Her eyes met mine, emotion bleeding through her calmness. “If you don’t like what I have to say, then I’ll go. No questions asked. At least...at least I’ll know I tried and can put it behind me.”
Didn’t she get it?
I let her into this flat and talking would swiftly end up beneath the clothes I’d rip from her body. I swallowed a groan as images of her naked and me inside her exploded in my mind.
Goddammit, I wanted her so fucking much.
“O, please don’t ask me to let you in here.” I dropped my head, glaring at her beneath my brow. “I don’t have the best self-control, and I don’t trust myself around you.”
She stepped forward, placing her hand on the doorjamb. “Ten minutes, Gil.” Her voice turned smoky and loose. “You won’t do anything. I know you and your honour.”