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I love you. I will always love you. I will only ever love you.
Instead, I settled for a simple, “Oliver?”
“Cuddl...
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“You will make an amazing husband one day.” Just not mine.
He shot up from his seat, startling me. “Bullshit.”
I backed away as he stalked to me, step by deliberate step. “Excuse me?” Another step. And an...
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Oliver planted a hand on each side of my face, caging me in. Our heavy breaths tangled together, h...
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“If I don’t marry you—and that’s a big fucking if—I’ll make the worst husband in the entire world.
Because I’ll spend every second of every minute thinking about you. When I make her laugh, it’s your giggles I’ll hear.
When I kiss her, it’s your lip...
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Completely and utterly destroyed me for every other woman on this planet. It’s you or nothing.”
No one ever listed restlessness as a side effect of long-distance relationships.
I hadn’t showered since Briar left. Big deal. Not like I let anyone close enough to smell me.
It would be easier if she’d stayed in LA. At least, we’d have FaceTime.
I hadn’t heard from my girlfriend in four fucking days.
Petty revenge.
I missed Ollie. A lot.
after nineteen days without contact, it didn’t even feel like a relationship.
This was everything I’d feared when I’d tried to break up. Love would transform into longing and longing into doubt.
(Eli, asshole that he was, hid the Macallan two nights ago in hopes that I wouldn’t lower myself to the bottom shelf stuff.)
aware my office—usually pristine and orderly—resembled a battlefield.
Unfortunately, I needed to prove to her that I could handle a long-distance relationship. And even more unfortunate, it seemed I couldn’t.
“It thrives on misery, and there’s plenty of that to go around.”
He finally stared up at me, his face tight and his usual armor of sarcasm slipping just for a moment. “I miss her, too.” You little shit.
Even the grouchiest motherfucker on the continent wanted her around.
“Me, too, bro.” I hopped onto the cushion beside Sebastian, patting his shoulder. “Me, too.”
“And second—I don’t need to get her back. She’s still mine.”
“You’re a terrible therapist, Seb.”
“And I’m not taking advice from two idiots that think tossing a black bag over my head counts as a therapy session.”
“That’s not how consent works, jackass.”
“You’re not gonna save me by kidnapping me.”
“He said his client sent him to search for me, and we hopped on the soonest flight when he mentioned your name.”
“An Oliver von Bismarck.”
He did good. Real good.
“Even if I didn’t raise you, even if we don’t share the same last name, even if you choose to walk away and never turn back, you will always be my daughter.”
“I wanted you. From the start. Never once did I not want to be your father. Understood?”
“Family has nothing to do with blood. It’s about the people who enter your life and fill up empty spaces you didn’t know existed until you can’t imagine life without them.”
“I will always search for you, Briar. Even if I never found you, I would keep scouring every corner of the earth on the slightest chance that you’d find out and realize the truth. You were always wanted. There has never been a moment in your entire life that you weren’t loved.”
We’d only gotten thirty days deep into our long-distance trial, and already, he’d pulled this stunt.
“Cuddlebug. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I allowed myself exactly three seconds to close my eyes and enjoy the sound of his voice hugging me through the other line.
“Did you like what I did with the décor?”
His pleased smirk practically curled through the phone like smoke.
“I knew you’d appreciate the open concept.”
“All that extra space for your temper to run wild. Consider it therapy without the copay. You’re welcome.”
“Would you believe me if I told you I had good intentions?”
I scanned the crowd for the source of my headache.
Oliver von Bismarck—his gaze locked on mine and that maddening signature smirk plastered on his kissable lips.
Meanwhile, I leaned against a column, waiting for Briar to spot me. The sight of her—so fucking gorgeous
“Did I just make your day?”
