Page 87 of A Chance for Us
“Ollie, what is this?”
“A boat . . .”
I huff. “I know it’s a boat, but all this is too much.”
“It’s a wedding gift.”
“Someone gave us a boat?” I ask with excitement.
He laughs. “No one gave us a boat, but we get to spend a few hours on it.”
“Oh. Duh.”
It’s not a far stretch, we did get a house.
He takes me down the narrow steps into the living quarters. It’s a lot bigger than I expected. There is a large couch against the back wall, a television opposite of it, and two chairs on each side. The room is gorgeous and painted in beige hues with four port hole windows along the left wall. You’d never imagine this was a boat. It looks almost like an apartment.
“There’s a bathroom to the left and two bedrooms toward the front. There’s another level below which is the staff’s quarters and kitchen.”
“Oliver . . .”
“I wanted us to do something nice that wasn’t for show or for anyone else.”
“This is a wedding gift from you?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes, I called in a favor.”
I smile so wide that my cheeks hurt and then launch myself into his arms.
“You are amazing! Amazing!”
“You’ve said so.”
“I’m saying it again.” I take his cheeks in my hands and kiss him.
He leans back, a grin on his lips. “What was that for?”
“Because this is so sweet. You’re so sweet.”
Because no one has ever done something like this for me.
He shifts his weight. “If this were real—if this were . . . different, I would do so much more.”
If.
What a horrible word. If I were someone else. If I were better. If I were worth it. That one-syllable, two-letter word that could be filled with hope is, instead, my pain.
“You’ll find someone, Oliver. One day, this woman is going to come into your life and she’ll make you want to take chances again. She’ll be worth putting your heart on the line for because she’ll know how perfect, selfless, and wonderful you are.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but then stops. We sway a little as the boat moves and he walks us over to the couch. After a minute of silence, he speaks. “I gave up on that dream a few years ago.”
My heart is pounding so hard because I know I can’t hold back. I don’t just want sex with this man. I’m not saying we should be married, but I want to date him. I want to see if this chemistry and the way we are together can last.
I go through all the options in my head. The answers that may come from this, but I know if I don’t take the risk, I’ll regret it always.
“What if . . .”
“Don’t,” he says as his thumb grazes my cheek. “Not because I haven’t wondered the same thing but because we both know that no matter what the answer to that question is, it won’t matter.”
