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And I was the fool who believed every single lie.
“I was inexperienced when we met and never had a serious boyfriend before him, so being in a relationship was all new to me. We started dating and I thought love meant adapting and compromise. So I did that. A lot.” I swallow, remembering the endless list of small changes that ultimately erased the real me. “I was naive, doing everything he wanted, never getting anything in return. It took me until this spring to realize he was trying to control me, molding me into a person I’m not.”
Ollie’s throat moves when he swallows. His voice is low when he says, “I’m sorry he treated you like that.”
The familiar shame and anger twist together beneath my ribs. Part of me still hates admitting any of this out loud, because sharing the truth makes me vulnerable in a way I’m not used to being.
“I don’t want pity from you.”
“I’m not pitying you,” he replies immediately. “I’m just saying I’m sorry you had to experience years of mental abuse disguised as love. You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”
I don’t say anything and Ollie’s hand shifts on the table, palm open. I hesitate, then place my hand in his. His fingers curl around mine. “You deserved so much more the whole time. I hope you know that,” he tells me.
“I didn’t always, but I do now.”
Ollie’s thumb brushes across my knuckles. The touch sends a spark through me. “How does Madeline fit into all of this?” he asks.
My stomach knots at hearing her name. Even now, months later, it still feels like pressing on a bruise that never healed right. I stare down at our joined hands because it’s easier than looking him in the eye while talking about her. Madeline had been woven into nearly every good memory of my adult life. Sleepovers. College finals. Drunken phone calls. Wedding dress fittings. She was supposed to be my constant.
“She was my best friend and college roommate. She knew everything about my life—my diagnosis, my future plans and the names I had picked out for my future children. She looked me in the eyes as I talked about the future, then stole from me behind my back. Our friendship was all a big lie.”
Ollie’s grip tightens and a few tears run down my cheeks. I wipe at them with the napkin.
“Don’t waste your tears on people who broke your heart on purpose,” he whispers.
I let out a shaky laugh and my fingers tighten around his. “You make it sound easy to move on.”
“I don’t think it’s easy. They spent years making you feel small, and I hate that they still get this much power over how you see yourself.”
“You don’t think I’m…weak?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Ollie frowns, like the idea genuinely bothers him. “Peyton, no. You crossed the country by yourself, started over somewhere unfamiliar, and survived a life event that would’ve wrecked a lot of people. That’s not weak.”
Emotion clogs my throat unexpectedly. “You really believe that?”
“Yeah, I do,” he says simply.
I look down again because holding eye contact suddenly feels too intense. “You’re very good at saying things that completely derail me.”
A soft laugh leaves him. “Sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“Maybe not.”
We sit in silence, hands linked across the table. No one has ever described me like he does. I’ve always been practical, responsible and composed. Not resilient or strong. But Ollie sees me in a different, much more flattering light.
“After it’s final, I want to take you on a real date, okay? One where no question marks hang over your head,” he finally says.
The words hit me somewhere deep and tender. A real date. Not obligation, not convenience, not pretending. Just someone wanting me openly and patiently. My chest feels suddenly too tight for a full breath, warmth blooming low and steady beneath my ribs.
“I’d like that. A lot.”
His mouth curves into a stunning smile, relieved and pleased all at once. “Good. I was hoping you'd say that.”
Maria reappears, halting our conversation. “You want dessert?” she asks, eyes flicking between us, clocking everything. “Something sweet for your sweet faces?”
“I don’t know if we have any room after all that food,” I joke.
