Page 84 of The Mistletoe Bluff
Oliver would never want to be with me after this. He would leave me. Just like everyone else. And I had no one to blame but myself.
I should’ve been honest. I should’ve told him the moment I started feeling something more for him.
My heart squeezed in my chest, aching something fierce. I had fought so hard against my growing feelings for Oliver, and yet I couldn’t keep them away, couldn’t help falling for him. And now that I had taken the risk, I would lose him.
I couldn’t stand the thought of Oliver thinking I was like his cruel father—using him to get ahead. But in the end, that’s what I tried to do, wasn’t it? Now that I hadOliver, I wished I could go back in time and make a different decision. Maybe I wouldn’t have entered the contest at all, or perhaps I would have never offered to be his girlfriend for Christmas.
But if I hadn’t made those choices, would we have ever ended up here? Would I have ever come to care for him this much? Would we have gone to the tree farm, or gotten stuck in a blizzard, or had dinner with my family? My heart gave a lurch at the thought of Oliver missing from any of those memories. His presence made them special; one of a kind.
I clenched my hands into fists in my lap, frustrated that I couldn’t read him. I didn’t know which would be worse; seeing his face contorted in anger or continuing this blank expression that hid all his thoughts from me.
Would he call me out in front of his parents now? Would he yell at me and walk out the door, never looking back at the girl who used him?
“As a matter of fact, Dad, I did know,” Oliver announced, shattering my thoughts.
He…knew?
I gaped at him, and even Leander blinked in surprise.
How was that possible? I never told him, and I did my best to keep Elsie and Jameson from ruining the secret.
Heknewand still wanted to fake date and spend time with me? Why? I would have expected him to be furious with me. I was surprised he hadn’t already walked out of his parents’ house, leaving me behind for good.
My heart was a war horse in my chest, threatening to burst from my skin. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs; the colors around me dulled to muted colors.
“I beg your pardon?” his dad said, yanking me back to reality.
Oliver looked at me then and winked—wait, why did he wink?—and tugged my chair so it was touching his, and looped his arm around my shoulders, tugging me as close as possible.
“I already knew that Maya had entered the competition.”
What was he playing at?
And why didn’t he look angry? Did he not understand that I had used him?
“Why do you think I had her lead that engagement shoot?” He paused to let his words settle. “I knew that as soon as you saw Maya’s entry, you’d discount her to get back at me because heaven forbid your son is with someone who makes him happy. But I also knew that if she did well, and the couple loved her, that you wouldn’t be able to write her off. You’d have to pay attention to her and give her a chance. Maya is a brilliant photographer, and her photos deserve to be considered.”
Leander’s face turned bright red. “I didn’t spend all these years helping you and honing your skill for you to throw it away on some American girl!”
Oliver laughed, though the sound was void of even a shred of humor.
“Helping me?” he scoffed. “No, you’ve beenusingme, Dad. The moment you first saw my ability with a camera, you’ve used it to further your own career. You don’t care about me and whatIwant. You only care about the money and exposure I bring your company. I’ve had my fill of whatyouthink being a photographer means. I never even wanted to enter the contest! I only did it so that maybe for once in my life you wouldn’t look at me with disappointment in your eyes. But I don’t want to win, especially if it’s because of you. I’d rather bow out gracefully than spend another day working for you.”
Oliver’s hand trembled where it rested on my knee. This couldn’t have been easy for him—standing up to his father. I put my hand over his, hoping to infuse more strength into him; letting him know I was supporting him, no matter what.
But then a slithering kernel of doubt began wriggling through my mind. Yes, Oliver was standing up to his dad, but what if itwasonly faking? What if he wasactuallyfurious with me, but he didn’t want anyone to know? When we left their house, would he pull away from me, and tell me he never wanted to see me again?
I didn’t know what was real or fake anymore and my insides were twisted, my limbs heavy.
Leander’s cheeks were the color of beets. Molly stretched out a hand to him, likely trying to calm her husband, but he moved out of her reach, shrugging her off. Sympathy filled my veins as I watched the way she shrunk back in her chair, her shoulders curling forward as she ducked her head.
The sight reminded me of when Elsie had dated her scumbag ex, Ben. He treated her similarly to how Leander was treating Molly. Elsie had become a ghost of her true self around him, and it was the most satisfying day ever when she dumped his sorry butt.
I had a feeling that I understood why Molly lived in the States, away from him, for half the year now. I didn’t blame her one bit.
I marveled for a moment at how wonderful Oliver was after seeing the horrible person his dad was. How had he turned out so amazing when his example was so awful? Molly must have done a great deal to counteract his terribleness.
Leander sputtered, trying to come up with something to say. I was certain that Oliver had never spoken to him in such a way, and now his father had no clue how to proceed.
