Page 80 of A Chance for Us
“I’ll let you two get back to your honeymoon. Have fun.”
“We will, and we’re both glad you’re home and feeling well.”
I hand the phone back to her so she can say goodbye before we climb back into the golf cart. “He sounds good.”
“He does.”
“What did he say to you?”
“That we’d enjoy the farm.”
Maren looks at me, her lower lip clenched between her teeth. “Will you go there with me?”
“To the farm?”
I know that’s what she means, but I’m stalling to think through this. Maren and I aren’t a real couple. She doesn’t love me or want to be with me. I was an available Oliver and a friend, nothing more. Yes, we’re sort of married and having lots of sex, but I want to keep any emotions in a box so when she walks away, no one is hurt.
I need to avoid being fucking hurt again.
She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I think it would be fun. You could see it, and we could maybe spend a day or two there. It’s been forever, and . . .”
“I’ll probably be really busy with the resort since we officially open fully in three weeks. I’m not sure about the time I have.”
“Of course,” she says quickly. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
I feel like a complete asshole. “It’s fine, maybe we can do it before the resort opens.”
She turns, her face lighting up before she throws herself at me. “Really? Oh, Oliver, thank you! You are too amazing.”
“It’s nothing.”
It’s everything.
“There isn’t a single thing about you or what has happened that is nothing. It means a lot that I’ll get to go there with you.”
Don’t let that sink in. Don’t let it become more.
“I’m happy that you feel that way.”
Maren kisses my cheek. “Let’s get lunch, and then”—her voice grows husky—“I can thank you in other ways.”
I throw the golf cart into drive and head to the bar, looking forward to the “other ways” she has in mind.
* * *
“Are you all right?” Maren asks as she hands me a glass of ginger ale.
“I’m fine. I think it was the food.”
She chuckles. “You barely ate.”
I was incredibly impatient at lunch. I had maybe a bite or two of my food and three beers, but when we got back and I was ready for naked Maren time, my stomach revolted. I ended up taking a long nap and waking up around dinner time, feeling a hundred percent better. However, she’s being a mother hen and won’t let me off the couch until she’s convinced I’m fine.
“I ate a little.”
She hands me a cracker. “Not enough to soak up the beer. Now, just rest, and we’ll find something else to do tonight.”
“I’d like to be doing you.”
