Page 117 of See You Maybe

“I want you to admit it. It makes total sense now… The way you looked at her in New York, the way you swooped in and carried her out. How many times in life do you think someone is going to say those words—Wild White Rose—to me?”

“You don't understand.”

“You should have?—”

“Cara!” Her eyes snapped to his. “You can't mention this to anyone. Including your husband.”

Cara’s face folded. “I don't understand. If Olivia is the woman you were talking about, why?—”

“I can't tell you.” Declan covered his face with one hand. “I can't tell you why, Cara. Just trust me.”

“You can talk to me,” she said, reaching out to hold his free hand. Her fingers felt like ice against his. “I can help.”

Declan pulled his hand free and dropped the other with a long exhale. “You really can’t.”

“You have always taken care of us, always been there when we needed something. It’s time you let us return the favor. We love you.”

Declan kissed his little sister on the forehead. “You've grown into a remarkable woman, Mrs. Evans. I’m proud of you.”

“Olivia?” Cara persisted.

“Is my past. Some things can’t be fixed.”

Cara took a step back, and Declan was surprised by the recrimination on her face. “The Declan Bloom I know has never given up on something he wanted. If Olivia is who you want, don’t waste your chance to have her. If this is about Fiona, we will find another way to get the company back. Someday you're going to face a choice—yourself or what you think you still need to prove to our father.”

She whirled and entered the house, slamming the door behind her. Declan stared after her, his breath rapid puffs of white in the frigid air.

A small ember of hope took flame inside him.

Was there a way he and Olivia could be together?

Would he still be able to keep her safe if everyone knew she was his biggest weakness?

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Atlanta—Present Day

Olivia kicked off her heels and tugged her blouse loose from the waistband of her skirt. Political schmoozing wasn't something she enjoyed, but the progress she’d made at the event excited her. It was an election year. The prospect of touting a new manufacturing facility in their district was something more than one candidate was interested in. Smiling to herself, Olivia celebrated her success with a huge sushi order from her favorite restaurant.

Pouring herself a glass of wine while she waited, she stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto the river. Her house lights illuminated bits of her backyard, and she could make out the dark shapes of bare trees swaying in the wind.

Olivia loved this house. The moment she saw the listing, she knew she had to have it. She’d rented a condo for a year before her divorce was final, not wanting to buy anything Kyle might try to claim.

The second the ink was dry on the divorce decree, Olivia purchased the house. It was too large for only her, but she loved the privacy of the riverfront lot. The house was at the back of her neighborhood, at the apex of a cul-de-sac. The long, steep driveway sloped down toward the garage, giving her front door privacy from anyone driving by. It was her tucked away piece of heaven.

Olivia had just set the wine bottle on the marble kitchen countertop when the doorbell rang. Already tasting her spicy tuna roll, she took the few steps from the open concept kitchen to her front door, setting her wineglass on the entry table.

She should have checked the door before she opened it. Instead, expecting to scoop up a bag from the ground, she wasn’t prepared for the shove that sent her reeling backwards into the house. She only saved herself from falling by catching the wood spindles of her banister. Kyle kicked the door shut behind him, his face contorted with rage. Terror skidded down her spine. His pupils were huge, his eyes terribly bloodshot, which could only mean he was drunk or high. Neither was good.

“What are you doing here?” Olivia’s stomach knotted as the fear took hold of her body. Run you idiot, her brain screamed, but she felt paralyzed.

It had been two years since the last night of her marriage when Kyle had attacked her, but her body remembered. She immediately tried to think of ways to appease him—to calm him down.

“You stupid, fucking whore,” Kyle snarled at her. Olivia backed up, only to trip over the heels she’d left on the foyer floor. She landed hard on her tailbone, and a sharp stab of pain ricocheted up her back.

Kyle loomed over where she lay on the floor, his fists bunched. The muscles in her body tensed, prepared for the kick she was sure would come. “You’ve made a fool of me.”

Olivia licked her lips. “Kyle, I don't know what you're talking about.” She lifted her hands, anticipating a blow, when one of his fists moved. “Tell me what's wrong. Why are you so upset?”