Page 36 of His Greatest Treasure

“Yes.”

“Four?” Nova gasps.

Oliver’s chuckle is low, almost non-existent, but it makes me shiver.Fuck. “Two, maybe. Not four.”

“My dad can carryme.”

The pride in her voice makes my eyes prickle, any shivering non-existent now. Chris would lose his shit if he knew Oliver washere right now. He’d be pounding on my door in half the normal time it takes to drive from Surrey with a scowl and orders for Oliver to leave.

It wouldn’t matter if it was a harmless meal. Not to my insecure, selfish ex. When it comes to Nova and me, we’re possessions. Two trophies that he likes kept on his shelf, close enough for others to stare at but never for him to truly care for. In his eyes, we both belong to him regardless of our relationship status.

I struggled with that realization for years, thinking that I could somehow change him. Bring out the thought and care that I wished lived inside of him. But, surprise, just like every single time a woman has told herself that she’s the chosen one who can change a man who fundamentally doesn’t know how to give us what we want, I was let down epically.

A person can only take so many years of being pushed aside, left to struggle on her own, before she grows tired of it and rebels. For me, that was four years ago. Five too late.

“Avery?”

I clench my fingers around nothing and whip to face Oliver. No longer in the living room with Nova, he’s in the doorway separating the kitchen from the main living area. The space isn’t huge, but it still isn’t small. Yet with him crowding the doorway, suddenly, the kitchen is the size of a shoebox.

“Is the pizza here?” I ask tightly.

“No.”

I dust my palms down my thighs. “Should be soon.”

“You mad at me about the pool still?”

Good. He thinks my mood is from earlier. “Yeah. My entire backyard is soaked in gelatine.”

“You can use mine. I’m off the next two days, but it’s yours if you want it.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

He reaches to scratch the back of his neck. “There are blow-ups. A frog for Nova.”

I pause, getting the weirdest urge to rub at my chest. “Why a frog?”

“I noticed her shirt at the Huttons’. Frogs all over it.”

“They’re her favourite. Frogs and lizards. She’s been asking me to get her own for months.”

The info dump bubbles out of me. I’m not sure why I’m sharing details, but once I start, I don’t want to stop. The only people who’ve wanted to hear them for a long time now are my parents.

Oliver leans a hip against the door, his arms folded across his intimidatingly huge chest. “Are you going to get her one?”

“I should. But I can’t.”

“You don’t like reptiles,” he states.

“Never have.”

“Her dad?” he asks so simply, as if it’s nothing but a fleeting question.

I stiffen, my walls rebuilding brick by brick until I don’t fear him jumping headfirst into my thoughts. “Her dad doesn’t have the ability to care for her and a pet.”

He can barely take care of himself.

“Is that why you aren’t together anymore?”

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