Page 37 of Damaged Enemy Next Door

“Hi,”Isayasshe opens the door.

“Come on in,” she says, “I just have to dry my hair.”

She pours me a cup of coffee, and I settle down in the kitchen while she finishes getting dressed. When she returns, she’s dressed for work.

“Olivia,” I say, “we’re going for a romantic breakfast. Not a corporate meeting.”

“Yes Adrian, but I was hoping we’d head to work right after. I have all those paralegal assistant resumes to look at, after all,” she winks at me. I want to tell her that I hadn’t slept a wink last night and that we won’t be heading into the office. But then, that would just ruin what I had planned out. “I can’t believe I get my own assistant. You know I really thought about what you said to me, and I don’t why I was so taken aback by the idea.”

I nod and collect my wallet and keys from the counter while she gathers her briefcase. We head out of the door, and she shuts it behind her. I double-check that it’s locked and as we walk to my car, she looks at me and continues, “I think it’s hard for me to accept help when I need it.”

“I used to be like that,” I say, holding the door open for her. “But when Emily came along, I realized I couldn’t do it alone. No one can.” I close the door and get into the driver’s seat, putting the car into gear.

“So, where are we going?” she asks.

“The diner we went to that first time. Do you remember?”

“When you were apologizing for threatening to fire whomever you liked when you were pretending to be the entitled billionaire you’re not?” she asks, giving me a wink.

“Olivia,” I sigh. “I owe you so many apologies. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Well, they say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. You’re a good man, Adrian Carter.”

“I only want to be better,” I say as I take a turn towards the right route. “You know, sometimes, I have a tendency to self-sabotage a good thing. After Veronica, I didn’t even realize I had started doing that. Sometimes, I fear I’ll mess this up too, and when I realized how much that thought scares me, I knew I was on the wrong path.”

“That’s why we’re here, aren’t we?” says Olivia, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. We continue driving like that, letting our thoughts linger in the air.

We arrive at the diner, take our seats, and order some pancakes, eggs, and sausages.

“Mm,” says Olivia, licking her lip as the maple sauce drips down the side. I reach out, instantaneously, and wipe it off. My finger rests on her lip for a second, and she looks at me like a wide-eyed doe. I pull back, giving her a small smile.

“Olivia,” I say. “I want to be with you.”

Her eyes dart toward the door like she wants to run. I sit there, silent, wondering what’s going on in her head.

Finally, she speaks, “I want to be with you too, Adrian. But sometimes, the thought petrifies me.”

I wait, patiently, for her to continue. "But I can't help feeling like we're on two different paths. I don't want to be just another woman in your life; I want to be the one. The one you wake up to every morning, the one you come home to every night. But I don't think that's possible."

“Why isn’t it possible?” I ask, searching for answers.

“I'm scared. I mean, what will our future look like? You've already got a daughter and are years ahead of me. Would you want the same things I do?”

“Olivia,” I say, reaching for her hand. “Yes. Yes, I want Emily to have little brothers and sisters. Of course, I do. I want to be a father and have the right to raise my children with my wife right next to me.”

“Wife, huh?” she asks, looking up at me with a sudden jerk.

“Yes, wife,” I say strongly. “I believe in marriage. For a while there, I had lost some faith, but now I realize I’m letting my fears get the better of me and hold me back from building the home I dreamt about as a child. If you don’t want to get married anytime soon, I understand. If you don’t want to get married ever, then that might be a problem.”

“There won’t be a problem,” she says. Her answer tells me everything there is to know.

“What else?” I ask her, sitting back and crossing my arms between my chest to give my beating heart a rest. I’m prepared to convince her, but a certain part of me has me hoping she trusts me enough to know that we’ll work through things together. But I guess that’s why we’re having this conversation so that I can make my stand clear.

“I have to be realistic. I can't keep living in this fantasy of being with you forever. It's not fair to either of us. You’re so much older than I,” she says. "Am I overthinking this?"

"Hey," I say, gently leaning forward to take her hand in mine. "You’re not overthinking anything. This is a decision about your life, and you have every right to it. But for what it’s worth, we'll make it work, okay? I can help you see perspective in the long run and bring the wisdom of experience into our relationship, and you can keep us young, and bring adventure our way. I might be cranky sometimes, and you might have your own thing going on. I might want to sleep in early, and you may want to go out with the girls till six am on a Friday night, and you know what? All of it is possible, as long as we communicate. Fear is natural in the stage of relationship we’re at, but trust – trust is everlasting.”

I know I’ve lightened the mood.

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