Page 80 of Secret Triplets for Christmas

I shook my head, wondering how my decision had made so much sense when it was made, and now it seemed so callous, so cruel and evil.

"You could've called."

"She did. But apparently, you changed your number,” Mira snapped.

I lifted my hand, hoping to stop Mira. I appreciated her support, but I really needed to be the one to do this. "It's okay—”

"You know what, Oliver, I am sorry for the difficult childhood you had and the loss of your brother, but you left here and never looked back. You left Lindsay to deal with the aftermath of Liam's death. Apparently, you slept with her before you left, and then you ran away and changed your number. Did you ever call?"

His jaw tightened. "That doesn't mean I shouldn't have known."

"Maybe not. But Lindsay had more important things to worry about than you. She was pregnant with triplets, for God's sake. She had to move so she wouldn’t have to continue to live in the place where Liam was murdered. She had to make sure she had a job that would allow her to raise these girls. So boo-hoo for you that there was no room in her life to hunt you down when you clearly didn't want to be found."

I turned to Mira, putting my hands on her arms. "Thank you for all your support. I love you for this, but I really need to handle this."

She glanced at Oliver, giving him her version of the evil eye. She looked back at me. "I'm going to be in the other room if you need me, okay?" She looked at her watch and then back at me. "Your father will be here in twenty minutes or so."

I understood her meaning that the girls would be there too. She turned and headed back toward the kitchen.

I turned back to Oliver, wishing I had done everything differently but knowing that at this point, it didn't matter.

"Why don't you come into the living room, and we can talk?"

"About what?"

"What do you want, Oliver? Do you want to know why I made the decision I did?"

"What would it matter? What reason could there be for you to make it?”

Feeling exasperated and exhausted, I said, "Then why are you here? If you don't want answers, then maybe you should just go."

"So you can continue to keep the kids from me? No fucking way." He walked past me into the living room, his head scanning the room in a way I took to mean that he was looking for the girls.

“They’re not here. They’ll be home shortly."

He stood at the opposite side of the room. I hated how vulnerable he looked. "I guess I'll wait."

Mira poked her head in the room. "I’ll call Brett and tell him to take the girls to our house."

Oliver's hands fisted at his sides. "You can't keep them from me." There was anger in his voice, but also so much pain that it broke my heart.

"I'm sorry that you are hurting, Oliver, but my first priority, Lindsay's first priority, is those girls. Meeting you and finding out who their father is when you're like this will only scare them to death. Do you want that?"

Once again, I held my hand up toward Mira. "It's okay. They can come. I'm sure Oliver will be okay to see them." I looked toward him, hoping I was right.

He turned away from me toward the back sliding door out to our back yard. His shoulders rose and then settled down as if he were taking a deep breath.

"Would you like a glass of water?" I asked.

He turned. "No." His voice lacked any affect, as if all the life had gone out of him. That bothered me more than his anger.

"I might have something stronger, but it's just wine."

He shook his head.

For a long moment, we simply stood and stared at each other. I hated how he looked at me as if he didn't know me.

"I'm sorry, Oliver. At the time —"

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