Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Um, you’re welcome? I’m not sure what you’re thanking me for.”
“That man, that’s our son. Not the man who’s been going through the motions of life for the last four years. I don’t know what you’ve done, but whatever it is, please keep on doing it. You’re bringing our son back to us.”
“I haven’t done anything. That’s all Oliver. He’s a great man. You raised one of the good ones.” He is. He’s a good man with a kind heart and so much love to give, if he would just allow himself to open up and put his past behind him.
“He’s different with you,” his dad speaks up. “We’ve missed this version of him.”
Oliver pulls out his chair next to me a moment later and sits, placing the bottle of water in front of me on the table. He then stretches his arm out on the back of my chair and plays with my hair. I left it down in loose curls, and he’s been playing with them anytime he’s been close to me all night.
“Thank you.”
He leans in and kisses my temple. “You’re welcome.”
“So, Blakely, Oliver tells me that you love Christmas as much as I do,” Theresa comments.
“Probably more.” I chuckle. “I don’t know what it is. There’s just something magical about this time of year.”
“I could not agree more. You must come to our annual Christmas party next weekend.”
“Mom, the party is on Christmas Eve. Blakely has a big family she celebrates with every year.”
“What time?” I ask Theresa, ignoring Oliver.
“Six o’clock. I do hope you can come.”
“Mom, stop. Don’t guilt her into this. Besides, you know I don’t attend that party anymore.”
“Yes, but I thought this year might be different,” his mom replies quietly.
“It’s not,” Oliver snaps.
“Blakely, how about you make an old man feel young again and we take a spin on the dance floor?” his dad suggests.
“Oh, I already danced with Ollie.” I lean into him with a smile, hoping to wash away this awkwardness. “Did I make you feel younger, old man?” I tease him.
Oliver raises his hand to rest against my cheek and guides my lips to his. It’s a soft peck, but he doesn’t seem to have a single care that we’re sitting in front of his parents. “You make me feel something, baby. Older or younger isn’t on the list.” He nips at my bottom lip before pulling back.
“Son, don’t be stingy. We taught you to share,” his dad teases.
“Not her,” Oliver grumps.
Dave stands and offers me his hand, and I take it, allowing him to lead me to the dance floor. “He’s fighting it,” he says, after a few moments of silence.
“What?”
“Oliver. He’s fighting the connection he feels with you. He doesn’t want to feel it. He’s afraid to feel it after what Hannah and Josh did to him. Don’t let him push you away. He’s hiding behind his pain.”
“We’re just dating. Causally,” I add. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say. I mean, this is his dad, but I don’t know that Oliver would want me to discuss our relationship with him in detail.
“Blakely, there is nothing casual about the way my son looks at you. For instance, he’s not taken his eyes off you since we walked away from the table. If I didn’t know better, I’d say my son is staring daggers at me. Trust me, I know him. He’s fighting against what he feels. He’s afraid. Just promise me you won’t give up on him. He might need a little push here and there, but you’re bringing him back to us, and no matter what happens, I will forever be grateful. My wife and I both are.”
“He’s easy to care about.” It’s as much of the truth about my feelings as I’m willing to confess, but Dave is a smart man and can read through the lines.
The song ends, and he steps back. “I better get you back to him.”
When Oliver sees us approaching, he stalks toward us and wraps his arm around my waist. “Mom’s waiting for a dance,” he says, then leads me back to the dance floor.
“What was that about?” I laugh.
“I wanted all your dances.”
“He’s your dad.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says.
“Ah, man, grumpy Ollie is back.”
“If I’m a grump for wanting all of your time, then so be it.”
“When you say things like that, my heart goes crazy.”
“Yeah?” he asks, his eyes lighting up. With one hand holding me close, he lifts the other and places it over my heart. “Feels a lot like mine.”
There’s something in his gaze that tells me we’re not just talking about the rhythm of my heartbeat. “Yeah, yours,” I agree, because I am. I’m his. Foolishly, I’ve let myself fall hard and fast for a man who is perfect for me in every way, except for one. His heart is locked behind a steel cage, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to help him set it free.