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She approached the largest conference room where she had attended many OZ meetings. This was where missions were planned. This would be where everyone would gather. And apparently they had—before they’d scattered. Several coffee mugs sitting on the conference table still steamed. They’d likely been alerted to her arrival and had exited quickly.
She didn’t need to wonder why. It was the reason she’d come here. She’d known what she would find. Which was why, as she moved to look out a window, the sound of footsteps behind her also came as no surprise.
A dichotomy of emotions swirled within her. Thousands of cutting words and stinging accusations came to mind, garbled and incoherent. The hurt was so overwhelming, she had to grip the edge of the windowsill. And while fury surged, there was an even bigger urge to throw herself into his arms and celebrate that he wasn’t dead. That he still breathed.
She told herself to turn, give him a frozen, uncaring smile, and act as if her heart hadn’t been torn to shreds. After all, she was the queen of frozen smiles. She was Iris Gates’s daughter—her mother had taught her from infancy that you never revealed an emotion you didn’t want to show. She knew how to do this.
Using every bit of that poise she’d been instilled with from birth, Olivia turned to face her husband. Only by maintaining that poise was she able to keep from gasping in shock. He had aged years, and no matter how angry she was with him, it hurt her heart to see him looking so ravaged by his experience. Wherever he’d been and whatever he’d been doing, it had not been easy.
“Hello, Livvy.”
The cool, casual greeting bolstered her, lessening her anguish and reminding her that he was still the man who had deserted her, lied to her.
“You bastard,” she said softly. “How could you?”
“How are you feeling? Any residual effects from the drug they gave you?”
“No, you don’t get to ask the questions.”
“I’ll give you answers, but I need to know if I missed anything. The injection was a light dose of scopolamine. Not damaging, but you might have some aftereffects, like dizziness and blurred vision.”
“I’m fine,” she bit out.
“You might want to see a doctor, just in case.”
“I said I’m fine. Now answer my question. How could you disappear like that? I thought you were dead.”
“There were…extenuating circumstances. It wasn’t all by choice.”
She released a choked, unbelieving laugh. “The great Nicholas Hawthorne dancing to someone else’s tune? No way in hell.”
“Not exactly someone else’s tune. As I said…extenuating circumstances.”
“No matter how much it hurt me.”
He stared at her for the longest time, as if he could divine what she was thinking without asking questions. Finally, he said, “It was never meant to be that way.”
“And how did you think it would be? I thought my husband was dead.”
“Ex-husband.”
A wave of relief rushed through her. He didn’t know. She was glad of that. Pride was all she had left. She didn’t think it could take another blow.
“You think that made a difference?”
“No.” His sigh was heavy and deep. “No, I don’t.
They had once shared everything—so in sync with each other that a look between them could communicate what other people might use a hundred words to convey. How had it all gone so horribly wrong?
She shut down that thought. She knew exactly what had gone wrong. No way could she delve back into that hellish memory.
“We had an agreement. The only reason I consented to the plan was because you promised me that you would stay in touch. You never contacted me again.”
“Livvy, I know this. But explanations are going to have to wait. I—”
“No. You don’t get to just brush this away.”
“I’m not brushing it away. I will explain everything soon, but the team is coming back in here.”