Page 34 of The Ruthless and the Strong

The waitress came to our table then with three cups of water in hand and a frazzled appearance that told she’d probably been here since they’d opened early in the morning. She set the cups down, and Olivia and I both put in an order of the breakfast deluxe, a plate that consisted of scrambled eggs, two bacon strips, potatoes, and two slices of toast. I ordered a small plate from the kid’s menu for Emma, which included some fruits, a half slice of toast with some jelly, and one hard-boiled egg. She wouldn’t finish her meal, but she liked the variety and she could pick and choose what she felt like eating when it came out.

Plus, it was mostly finger food so we didn’t have to worry too much about it.

I waited until the waitress left before I turned back to Olivia. She wasn't looking at me but at the table. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like not being able to see her expression, to know what she was thinking or feeling.

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.”

I waited a beat before she tilted her chin up and met my eyes. “I’m sorry, Max. For always being so incredibly selfish when it comes to you. Even now, I can’t have you away from me for long.”

I shook my head and held out my hand. She slowly placed her tiny one in mine. A flash of memory hit me, of her first day of kindergarten. Neither Grace nor Michael had been able to take her. Not when they’d had a huge fight the night before, and Michael had gone off to God knows where, and Grace was trying to recover from the hangover that had resulted from her spending the night before getting blasted drunk with little five-year-old Olivia in the next room.

Had I not shown up that night, Olivia would have gone to bed hungry. I had packed her bag for the night and taken her back to my place, under the pretense that we were having a sleepover party, so she wouldn’t notice it was because Mom would much rather spend time with a bottle than take care of her little girl.

Then in the morning, I took her to her first day of kindergarten.

She had held onto my hand the full five minutes it took us to walk from the parking lot to her classroom, and she hadn’t wanted to let go. I ended up staying back for fifteen minutes so she could get settled in with her new environment before leaving, then feeling like my heart had turned to lead with each step I took away from her.

“Do you remember your first day of kindergarten?” I asked her.

She frowned a bit. “Vaguely.”

“We got to the door and greeted your teacher, but when it was time for you to go in, you wouldn’t let go of my hand.”

She looked down, and I didn’t know what she was thinking, but it probably wasn’t anything good.

“Even then, I was selfish with you,” she said softly, so softly I almost didn’t hear.

I squeezed her hand and patiently waited for her to look back at me, even when everything in me wanted to yell for her to understand it was the exact opposite of that. How could she ever think I would blame her for being selfish of my time at that age? Even now, at twenty-five, I never once thought of her as selfish with my time—time I had always been happy to give her.

“I was glad,” I said. Her eyes widened. I smiled a little. “I hadn’t wanted you to let go. As hard as it was for you to be far away from me, I am every bit the same way. I wasn’t forced into anything, Olive. You think I didn’t have a choice? We always have a choice. Sometimes those choices aren’t much, and sometimes they’re hard choices to make, but we always have a choice. I could have chosen to not take care of you. I could have walked away from my decades-long friendship with Grace and lived my own life. Perhaps I would even have been happy about it. But I doubt I would have been happy as I had been taking care of you.”

“Really?” she asked, her shoulders relaxing a bit.

“Really. I had a choice, and I chose you, sweetheart. I will always choose you. Understand? You’re not a burden and you’re not selfish, and I don’t want you to say that about yourself anymore. Okay?”

She smiled a little, and I hadn’t realized how tense I had become until I found myself relaxing at the sight. “Okay.”

“Good.”

The waitress came back with our food then, and we stopped talking, waiting for her to leave. Emma clapped her hands excitedly over the plate of food in front of her, her tiny, chubby hands making a quick grab of the slice of apple. I watched her to make sure she could eat it, and I knew I was worrying over nothing.

I grabbed a forkful of the eggs and ate it, savoring the bite. I could feel Olivia’s eyes on me. Our conversation just now wasn’t the only thing that was bothering her.

“I still don’t like the fact that you have been alone for all of these years.”

“I hadn’t been alone,” I said softly.

She sighed and looked down at her food. We should have saved the heavy topic for another time. I didn’t want Olivia to miss out on her meal. “Why don’t you eat?” I said.

She forked up some of her food and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly.

“Good?” I asked.

“Yes. I always like their food. But that’s not what we’re talking about, and I’m not going to let you change the topic.”

Now it was my turn to sigh. I didn’t want to get into the reasons why I had stayed alone all these years. Mostly because I already knew the answer. “I’m okay. It’s not your job to worry about me.”

“But it’s your job to worry about me, right? Is that how it works?”

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