Page 87 of Falling for the Bad Boy
“You know, I’m just going to, um, go to the bathroom. If you’ll excuse me for a minute…” Macy scurried through the back door. I didn’t bother to watch her go. My gaze stayed on Oliver as I wondered what he’d do next.
“There’s more on the sidewalk. I’ll just go grab it and then?—”
“Why?” I managed to eke out one word without my voice failing me.
Oliver turned back to face me. “I’m sorry. I tried so many times to tell Wyatt to go fuck himself, but he kept dangling all those golden carrots out in front of me. First, I just wanted to be able to stay in the States. I didn’t want to go home to take over a business in a dying industry that’s been in my family for generations. Wyatt made me an offer I didn’t think I could refuse. But then…” He let his head fall, dipping down to hang between his shoulders.
“Then what?” I clenched my jaw, not wanting to let even a hint of tenderness break through.
He lifted his head, his brown eyes filled with regret. “But then I got to know you. The more time we spent together, the more I realized your dream means just as much to you as mine does to me. Maybe even more.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” That was what hurt the most. I could understand him not wanting to go home and could forgive him for falling prey to Wyatt’s initial offer. But after we’d gotten to know each other, after I’d let him into my bed, hell, let him into my heart, how could he keep lying to my face every day?
He made a move like he wanted to reach for me then let his hand drop back by his side. “I tried. You have no idea how many times I tried to come clean. But I just kept thinking there had to be a way out. Where you and Wyatt both got what you wanted.”
“And you.” My eyes narrowed. “Where you got what you wanted too, right?”
His head shook slowly from side to side. “What I wanted doesn’t matter now. I screwed up and came back to fix it.” The wheels on the suitcase creaked as he pushed it closer to me. “Take the yarn. Please. It’s the least I can do.”
I studied the suitcase in front of me while Oliver retrieved the boxes on the sidewalk. If he was telling the truth—and I couldn’t think of a reason for him to lie anymore—then he might have just saved my grand opening. But I still had so much to do. Where would I find enough people to help me knit up the samples of the patterns I’d designed?
Oliver stacked the boxes just inside the door then pulled the tape off of the one on top. “My mom’s knitting group made up samples of the patterns you had online.” He pulled out a gorgeous cardigan knit in shades of purple, followed by a pair of fingerless gloves. “Hopefully this works. There are plenty more in the box.”
I blinked back tears, still not wanting to let any emotions free. If I opened up the floodgates, no telling what would happen. Anger mingled with sadness then mixed in with the joy of seeing him in person again.
“Say something?” He held his hands out, full of samples he’d started to unpack.
I swallowed back the sob that threatened to wrench from my throat. “I don’t know where to start. How did you do all of this? I tried getting new shipments, but no one could turn it around in time.”
“I guess it helps to know people in the business.” For the first time, his lips split into a slight smile. He set the samples on top of the box and covered the distance between us in a few short steps. “I’ll understand if you never want to talk to me again or?—”
“Or if I knit up a voodoo doll with your name on it and pass the time by whacking its head against the bricks?” I bit my lip, waiting to see how he’d respond.
“Better yet, why not run it over with your friend’s giant truck or let the grumpy elevator doors close on its midsection over and over again.” He put his finger under my chin and nudged my head up to meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t blame you a bit.”
All of the anger I’d been holding onto drifted away as I looked into his eyes. “I want to hate you for what you did to me.”
“I wouldn’t blame you a bit for that either.” His hand moved to cup my cheek.
I wanted to nestle my cheek against his palm, to wrap my arms around his midsection and press my mouth against his neck. “I can’t hate you, Oliver.”
“And why’s that?” His brow furrowed as his hand moved around to cradle the back of my head.
I broke our gaze, needing a reprieve from the intense emotion I’d seen in his eyes. Glancing down at my feet, I breathed in. The scent of his bodywash wrapped around me like a hug. This was it. Any future we might have together rested in my hands. I could thank him for the yarn and send him on his way. Or…or what? Hadn’t he shown me I couldn’t trust him? Hadn’t he taught me I’d been a complete fool to believe in someone else?
“Why can’t you hate me, Trinity? It would be easier if you could, wouldn’t it?” His other hand came up so that my cheeks rested between his palms.
I pulled my gaze from the floor and lifted my head. “You know why, don’t you?”
He took in a steady breath. “I have hope that it’s because you love me. And if you love me half as much as I love you, then I think we can find a way through this.”
Time seemed to grind to a halt. The moment stretched while I tried to absorb his words. “You love me?”
Nodding, he stepped closer, eliminating the sliver of distance between us. “More than you know. Can you forgive me for being a selfish prick?”
The tightness gripping my heart eased. “Say it then.”
“What?” A smile played across his lips. “That I love you?”
