Chapter 71: My Dark Prince: Chapter 70

Contrary to popular belief, distance did not make the heart grow fonder.

With space (and about fifty stories) between me and Oliver, I managed to regather my senses and restrengthen my barriers.

No, I would not be going on a date with the man who cheated on me. He could cash in his bet, sure, and I would definitely enjoy it. But it ended there. Well, after I managed to convince Seb to taste daylight and make plans for his future, of course.

By the time five o’clock rolled through, my hackles had risen. I wore a nice backless dress, a bit of makeup, and even a French twist, cinched with an emerald clip.

“You only dressed to the nines so you can dump him looking like a bad ass.” I flattened my dress before the mirror, satisfied with how I looked. “Right, Briar?”

Oliver showed up at six o’clock on the dot, which, unsurprisingly, beat out every other frog I’d dated. I’d spent that entire decade giving men brownie points if they didn’t arrive more than ten minutes late to pick me up. Fun fact: the men girls date in their twenties teach them more about red flags than dark romance.

He knocked once, waiting for me to come get him. I swung the door open, my face carefully blank. To my surprise, he’d dropped his afternoon suit and replaced it with dark-blue chinos, a white Henley, and an unbuttoned, fleece-lined Corduroy trucker jacket.

He looked … normal. Ordinary. It almost made me want to go on this date. Almost.

“Nice of you to make me dress up only to show up looking like an unemployed lumberjack.” I kept my fist on the door, blocking his way inside. “Lucky for me, we’re not going out.”

“Tell that to your dress.” His wolfish eyes devoured me from head to toe. “Good evening, sweetheart. Why, I’m glad to see you, too.” He kissed me on the cheek, thrusting an oversized bouquet of blue roses into my hands. “I cannot wait to take you on a date.”

Only because it would be a shame to waste such beautiful flowers, I snatched up a vase, filled it with water, and transferred the bouquet inside. The roses never cheated on me.

“Let me guess.” I tossed the bouquet wrapper. “You closed off Broadway for a private screening?” It sounded like something he’d do – downright gauche. “You’ll have to watch it alone, I’m afraid.”

“Did you want me to close Broadway?” He followed me into the living room, ignoring my last sentence. “Because that’s not off the table.”

“Oliver,” I stretched his name out, slow so he could follow. “We aren’t going on a date.”

He grabbed the back of his neck, and I almost felt sorry for him.

His eyes dipped down a few seconds before flicking back up to mine. For a moment, he seemed … vulnerable. “But I worked really hard on planning it.”

Do not budge, Briar. The man cheated on you and has never apologized. ‘I was young’ isn’t good enough.

I tipped my chin up. “Take Lindsey.”

“Who’s Lindsey?” His brows pulled together. “Did we get a pet I don’t know about?”

Oh, god. He wanted to play dumb. I wouldn’t let him.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Your real childhood sweetheart.”

“Huh?” At my silence, he added, “You’re gonna have to help me out here.”

“You don’t even remember your old flings?” I scowled, disgusted. “The chick you cheated on me with.”

His jaw almost dislodged. He managed to snap it back up, both hands raised. “Baby, I never cheated on you.”

“I saw the proof.” I palmed my phone, waving it. “You can’t lie your way out of this.”

“I literally do not know what you’re talking about, Briar. Swear on my life.” He paused. “Swear on Sebastian’s life, too.”

“Oliver, I’m not stupid. You flirted with her in your public Instagram comments.” I raised my voice a few octaves, mimicking what I imagined her pitch to be. “When are you inviting me to the lake house? DM’d you something naughty.”

If I had my head on straight, I’d be mortified that I’d just revealed how often I reread those comments. That they’d seared into my memory, still to this day. But instead, I only saw red – even redder at his total silence and that dumb blank stare he pasted onto his face.

I deepened my voice this time, doing a shitty job of mocking him. “So, when are you coming over so I can show you a good time?”

Crickets.

“Seriously, Oliver? You wrecked my world, ghosted me when I tried to confront you about it, then rejected me, even when I swallowed my pride and showed up on your doorsteps. You made a joke out of me. You obviously don’t respect me. And now you won’t even admit it?”

He smacked his forehead so suddenly, it startled me silent. “Oh, god. I’m gonna kill him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sebastian. He wrote those messages. He told me about it, but so much happened that I never got the chance to tell you.”

I snorted. “Convenient.”

“Seriously.” He pointed to my phone. “Ask him.”

I didn’t want to indulge him. Truly. But I’d spent fifteen years questioning every inch of myself, wondering why he, too, found me so unlovable he couldn’t even stay faithful. I had to know. That’s the thing about being cheating on. It leaves a scar. A mark that whispers, not enough.

I unlocked the screen and shot Seb a text.

Briar Auer: Do you remember using your brother’s Insta to flirt with a girl?

A reply came not even a moment later.

Seb vB: No.

I scowled and opened my mouth to launch into a tirade, but another buzz interrupted me.

Seb vB: Oh, wait. Yeah. Lindsey Borne.

Seb vB: She was hot AF and two years older. Introduced me to FaceTime sex.

Seb vB: Or did I introduce her? The world may never know.

Seb vB: [How Many Licks Tootsie Pop GIF]

I fell silent, letting my phone drop with me to my knees. My head collapsed into my palms. I felt Oliver’s hands loop under my thighs as he carried me to the couch bridal style.

“You didn’t cheat?” I asked again, this time willing to hear him out.

“I would never.”

“Why did you disappear?” I clutched on to the labels of his jacket, tugging them hard. “I need to know.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I let him. I couldn’t read his expression. Sad, frustrated, relieved. They all swirled together, along with something darker. More somber.

“Go on the date with me, and I’ll tell you.” His forehead dropped to mine. “It’s time.”

After that lovely debacle, we cruised down to the sub-level parking garage. To my surprise, Ollie drove. In a sensible Volvo sedan, no less.

I didn’t ask questions. About our destination. About our plans. About the past.

Okay, I’d thawed. I was only human. But that didn’t mean I totally forgave him, just because he hadn’t cheated on me. He still dumped me without a word. I just wasn’t stupid. I could do the basic math. Oliver ghosted me, only to resurface days later to start the backpacking lie for Seb. That had to be when it all went down. When Seb messed up his face.

We drove around aimlessly for a while. I glued my eyes out the passenger window, lost in thought.

After our fourth round past the same stores, I flashed Oliver a frown. “Are you lost and incapable of admitting so? Because I have no issue whipping out my Waze app and putting us out of our misery.”

“Nope.” Ollie focused on the road, calm and collected. “Growing up, you always told people you’re from New York, though you never had the chance to explore the city. I thought I’d give you a little tour, so next time you tell people you’re from here, you’ll mean it.” He fished out some AirPods from his pocket, tossing them into my hands. “Here.”

I popped them into my ears, and sure enough, Ollie’s prerecorded voice began talking in his best tour guide impression, explaining the history of all the places we drove past.

My heart broke inside my chest. This was the opposite of gaudy. Neither expensive nor tacky. It must’ve taken Oliver so much time to prepare this. All because he knew I’d always missed New York without ever living in it. I realized, as we cruised my not-so-hometown, that some places called to our heart, even if our feet have never touched the soil.

By the time we parked in front of a red brownstone in Brooklyn, I had to bite my inner cheek to hold back a sob. Le Boudoir. Transit Museum. Botanic Garden. Superhero Supply Store. House of Yes. He knew exactly what I would like.

Ollie killed the engine, just as the sun finished setting. “And here we are.”

“Um, okay?” I blinked up at the home. “Are we crashing someone’s dinner?”

Without answering me, he rounded the Volvo and opened the door for me. I slid out on shaky legs. My gut told me Oliver had chosen emotional carnage as tonight’s date theme.

He led me to the front door with my fingers curled around his elbow. Pots and plants dotted the narrow pathway with vines coiled around the railing. Someone had obviously put in serious hours to restore the place, and it worked. It was charming. Adorable. I couldn’t help but want it.

I spotted pink stickers on the windows. Butterflies and tulips. A small child definitely lived here. Whoever her parents were must have been close to Ollie because he conjured a key, stuck it into the hole, and unlocked the door, waltzing in like he owned the place.

I expected someone to greet us, but we only found … nothing.

Or, more specifically, nothing of importance.

The house appeared completely lived in. With a stuffed bookshelf, fully equipped open kitchen, and Barbies sticking out of every nook and cranny.

I soaked in the vintage wallpaper. “I take it that’s a no on crashing dinner?”

“Oh, no. I bought this house earlier this week,” he explained, as if it were TOTALLY NORMAL TO BUY A HOUSE FOR A FIRST DATE. “Let me show you to the crown jewel.”

He signaled for me to follow him down the corridor. I did, unsure how I’d gotten so out of breath. Maybe because of the instinct whirling around in my gut. I knew, deep down, his reason for bringing me here.

We stopped by the little girl’s old room. I peered inside, my heart in my throat.

Oh, Ollie.

My knees gave out. I sank to the floor, swallowing the tear that raced down my cheek to my lips. Oliver dropped beside me, rubbing my back. He didn’t say a word as I drank in the room like it could quench my soul.

A sea of pastel pinks and purples danced across the walls. The nearest one boasted a mural of Sleeping Beauty, the scene where the prince lays eyes on Briar Rose for the first time. A collection of ballerina carousels and music boxes filled white built-in shelves. Clothes, in all the brightest colors, scattered everywhere. In the corner, kid makeup littered the top of a short vanity – glitter, eyeshadow, and miniature lipsticks.

And the framed pictures.

They covered every open stretch of wall. All of me, as a kid. With parents that hugged me, their faces hidden by their backs. With friends circled around me on my birthday, showering me with cheers. And with a young Oliver, a real picture this time, his arm slung around my shoulders.

I let myself curl on the carpet and bawled my eyes out, sorting through feelings I’d never dared to let myself feel. Not when I needed to survive.

No one had ever taught me how to love. Before Ollie, I spent my childhood learning how to live without being seen. But in this tiny room, in a city I called home without ever knowing, surrounded by pictures I never took, he shined a spotlight on me.

Oliver stayed silent for a moment, letting me process my emotions.

Finally, after my tears dried up, he spoke.

“You wanted a normal childhood, and I’m fucking furious your parents were too selfish to give it to you. But I promise that if you give me a chance, I won’t blow it. I’ll give our children love. They’ll have birthday cakes, and ugly Christmas sweaters, and a stable childhood in one place they recognize and love. There will be fights, and sleepless nights, and days rolling on hills, and family picnics, and movie binges on a loop. And we will do all of it together.”

Each promise impaled my skin like a knife, somehow stitching me back together.

He sucked in a ragged breath. “Just give me a chance, and I won’t screw it up again.”

I straightened up to my knees, collecting his fist between my hands and moving it onto my lap. “What happened that summer?”

“Seb—” His eyes slammed shut.

His throat bobbed once. Twice. Whatever happened, he didn’t want to say it. Maybe he’d never said it. I stayed silent. Patient. He must’ve buried these words inside himself for years.

When he opened his eyes again, tears clung to his lower lashes. “He … what I did to him … I’ll never forgive myself.”

“It’s not for you to decide whether you’re forgiven. It’s for him. Forgiveness belongs to the wounded, not the one who caused the wound.” I squeezed his fist. “Now, tell me what happened.”

Oliver laid it all out for me. The boating accident. The blood. The ambulance. The surgeries. The drip-drip-drip of blood transfusions. The total destruction of Sebastian’s once beautiful face. The way no one in his family could ever look at him the same.

And the fights.

They never stopped.

He let Seb lash out at him, because he thought he deserved it. Because of that deep-rooted belief that he was incapable of caring for anyone, least of all me.

“So,” Oliver began, his chin tucked down in shame, “when I begged Sebastian to tell me what I could give him to fix his pain and he told me he wanted my happiness, I agreed.”

I sucked in a gasp.

Seb had asked him to leave me.

And Oliver agreed.

I wrapped my arms around my knees, squeezing them to my chest. “Why?”

“Because he was right. I ruin things. I don’t deserve to be happy, and you deserve to be with someone who can care for you. Not someone bound to spend the next five years in constant doctor appointments and training to take over a company he never even wanted in the first place.”

Back then, Oliver only planned to stay with the Grand Regent to help Sebastian come into power. After the accident, no way would Seb agree to taking over. Oliver must’ve had to juggle school, inheriting a Fortune 100, and nursing a grouchy Seb back to help.

I rested my chin on my knees. “I would’ve helped you.”

“You would’ve upended your life to mold yourself around me, just like you did when you chose Harvard. You were so beautiful, and independent, and full of life. But you were also so desperate for someone to love you that you would’ve given up everything – including your identity – to be with me.”

He was right.

I wouldn’t have agreed with him then, but now, after so many years, I could look back and see it. The loss of Jason, Philomena, and Cooper left huge dents in my psyche.

My classmates didn’t want me, I never stayed anywhere long enough to make friends, and when the cute boy next door showered me with attention, I refused to let go. Literally. I used to hug him whenever I could, hoping I could trap him and keep him by my side. Hence my nickname. Cuddlebug.

“You should’ve given me a choice.” But the words rang hollow, because I knew what it would be and that I wouldn’t have made it for the right reasons.

“I didn’t believe I deserved you, Cuddlebug. It’s never been about whether I love you enough. It’s that I love you too much. Nothing I could offer you would ever be enough. You deserve everything, and I had none of it, especially with everything life laid on me. I wanted more for you than … well, myself.”

Something cracked in me. Every layer of defense. I understood, firsthand, what it does to the soul when love feels like a gift I’ve done nothing to earn.

Oliver slouched his back against the wall, cradling his head between his hands. “In fact, even now, I still don’t believe I deserve you. The difference is that I’ve grown up. I realize now that just being here matters most. Waking up and doing my best for you every morning, because I love to see you smile.”

He reached to touch my face. The second his fingers met my cheek, it felt like he’d slice through an invisible crack, breaking it wide open and letting light pour into my wounds. I leaned against his rough palm, falling into his body between his open legs.

“You posted a picture of you giving Sebastian a ride to his flight to India,” I whispered.

Guilt licked at my throat. I couldn’t tell Oliver about my frequent visits to Sebastian. One wrong breath could shatter Seb’s fragile trust. I vowed not to break it, knowing his selfless brother would understand.

“It was an old pic. He made me do it.” Oliver’s lips traveled along the column of my neck, my shoulder, kissing the spot the sun always touched. “He didn’t want anyone to see his face. He came up with a story about India. About choosing a stress-free life over the Olympics. And I went along with it.”

“I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“You were all I could ever think of. Even now. All these years later. For the longest time, I thought of you as a shadow following me. But you’re not the shadow. I am. You are the living, breathing organism inside of me. I’m just here for the ride.”

We reached to each other like water in the desert. Me first, my lips crashing against his as I finally let it all go. I cried into our kiss. My salty tears mixed with the sweetness of our passion.

Ollie rose to his knees and cradled the back of my head, flattening me against the carpet. He kissed, nibbled, and nuzzled his way down my body. I clutched his shoulders, still in tears, but also reeling with pleasure as he pried my thighs apart with his head and kissed the insides of each one.

“There was no one else.” His tongue trailed a path from my hipbone to my slit, still covered by my underwear. “Unloving you was impossible. As unnatural as trying not to breathe.”

He scraped my underwear to one side and gave my slit an open-mouth kiss. I quivered under his touch, breathless. This sounded too close to a love declaration. Before I could wrap my head around it, his tongue plunged inside me.

I arched off the floor and moaned. Oliver’s hand crawled up my body, kneading my right breast as he devoured me with abandon. His tongue thrust deep inside me, fucking me relentlessly as his nose nuzzled my clit.

The pleasure was so intense, stars detonated behind my eyelids.

His stubble, rough and short, grazed my inner thighs. “You’re so damn pink,” he murmured, kissing, and biting, and plunging deeper into me. His hands spread my thighs wide. “So fucking beautiful. I’m about to come in my pants just eating you out.”

I gobbled it all up. His adoration, the sensation, the way our bodies seemed to fall back into sync like we’d spent no time apart at all.

And when he added two fingers and his mouth moved up to my clit, clasping it between his lips, my first orgasm trembled through me like an earthquake. My vision blurred, my muscles tensed, and there was nothing in this world but me and him – on that shaggy carpet, in the house he bought just so I could feel a home – making up for lost time.

And the knowledge that we finally found something worth keeping.