Page 123 of See You Maybe
“Wise woman.”
“Please don’t tell her. She’s a bit too full of herself these days,” Declan joked, determined to keep the mood light, but relief filled his body at an alarming rate, making him slightly lightheaded.
“Bowls?” he asked, when the soup bubbled.
Olivia pointed at a cabinet and moved to the refrigerator to retrieve a slab of butter.
“Is that Irish cream?” Declan eyed the dish.
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s addictive.”
Olivia sliced the bread and slathered the pieces with the Irish butter while Declan filled the bowls and carried them to her kitchen table.
Aware of Olivia’s every careful movement, and how she limped a little across the room, his rage coiled tighter inside him.
Olivia raised her spoon and winced at the first swallow, her hand rising to her throat before dropping it again. The neckline of her thick robe had shifted, and he could see the unmistakable outline of bruises in the shape of fingers across her porcelain skin.
Declan must not have done as good a job hiding his response as he thought, because Olivia lay her hand over his white-knuckled grip on the spoon.
“It’s okay.”
His jaw worked. Fuck, now she was comforting him? Declan mentally added a few more hours of pain to what limited time Kyle had left.
“It’s not,” he managed in a strangled voice. “But you don’t have to talk about it.”
Olivia set her spoon down and stared at him. “I don’t want you to think I am some kind of victim. Like I’m weak and can’t protect myself.”
Declan’s mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood, and he released his tongue. “I would never think you are weak, because you aren’t. He is a bully and a coward. None of that is a reflection on you.”
Her lips pursed, and two lines formed between her brows. “It wasn’t always like this. I left after he really hurt me. We kept the separation hidden for a year, but I knew?—”
The spoon bent in Declan's hand as he struggled to fill his lungs. “After he really hurt you?”
“I’m trying to explain.” Olivia’s shoulders slumped. “When it got physical, I mean… really physical… I left. I knew it would only get worse from there. He was starting to lose control.”
“What does really physical mean?” Declan’s voice vibrated with suppressed fury. The fact she believed there were degrees broke his heart.
Olivia sighed. “It’s in the past.”
“It’s not in the past.” The tether on his self-control snapped. “He assaulted you last night. It’s been two years since you left him. Fuck.” Declan ran a hand over his face as a realization hit him. “You have had to work with him every day. Why didn’t you leave Armstrong?”
Her chin tipped up. “You know why. That company is more mine than it is his. Kyle wasn’t going to take that away from me too. Besides, you’ve met Kyle.” She grimaced. “He isn’t really a nine-to-five kind of guy, so I didn’t have to see him often. The year we were separated was the hardest because it was a secret. The year after I filed for divorce, it was easier because I didn’t have to put on a show anymore. Pretend that breathing the same air as him wasn’t repulsive.”
Olivia wouldn’t have to worry about that for long, Declan vowed to himself. “Why didn’t you file for divorce right away?”
“Two years ago, when he… I left. He stayed in our house, and I rented a condo. Richard had just been diagnosed, and I didn’t want to add to his stress, so we agreed to pretend we were still together.” Declan stared at her in disbelief. “It wasn’t like we were a couply couple before that. Everyone knew our marriage was basically over after the first year or so.” Her eyes hardened. “They just didn’t know why.”
He did a quick calculation. “If you didn’t love him, why did you stay?”
Olivia’s back stiffened. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t.” Declan shook his head. “God knows you’ve never been afraid to tell me how you feel.”
Olivia stared at her bowl. “It’s different with you.”
Her words went a long way toward dampening his anger. “Yeah?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know it is. With Kyle, with my family, even my friends… They all assumed the reason the marriage failed was something I did, or wasn’t doing. I’m a bit of a workaholic in case you haven’t noticed,” she said wryly. “My friends were work friends. I couldn’t exactly confide in them what was happening at home. Kyle is very good at showing one face to the world, then twisting my words to make me look like I am a ball-busting shrew. Which coincidentally fit perfectly with how my family already thought of me.”