A Bird in the Oven - Kata Cuic Page 0,46
a bit in her seat. “You can’t honestly tell me you’re not concerned about how he’ll react, Olivia. Babies are loud; they smell God-awful at times; they’re unpredictable; they don’t have set schedules. How do you think Oliver is going to handle all that overstimulation?”
My shoulders deflate on a long sigh. I can’t honestly tell her I’m not concerned about it. I’m aware of the facts. I know Ollie as well as anyone. “Do you know what he told me the other day?”
“No.” She audibly swallows, staring at me. “What did he tell you?”
“He thanked me. Said he never expected to be given the opportunity to be a father, and he was ready and excited to raise a child together.”
She sniffles. “Oh, my poor baby.”
“He’s not though! He’s not poor! His life might be more difficult than either of us can imagine, but it’s also so much richer! He sees and hears and feels things that we could never hope to! Oliver would be an amazing father! He’d have so much more to teach a child than I ever could!”
There needs to be clearer definitions and preparations, sure. Ollie needs time to transition and build a plan for how he’ll cope with the less pleasant parts of raising a baby, but I absolutely do not question how much love he would give that child.
Mrs. Cucinelli claps her hands as I turn the car onto our street. “Oh, thank the good Lord! He’s here!”
His car is parked diagonally in his driveway instead of perfectly straight. It’s the middle of the afternoon, but all his blinds are closed. He’s definitely upset about the vile shit his aunt spewed about him.
I don’t blame him. I’m mad as hell, too.
Mrs. Cucinelli and I exit the car and race toward his front door. It’s locked.
She knocks. Loudly. “Oliver! It’s Mom! Please, open up! I know you’re home!”
We wait in silence.
After several moments, Ollie’s muffled voice comes through the door. “Is Olivia with you?”
“Yes, honey! She’s right here! We were so worried since you wouldn’t answer either of our calls or texts.”
“I do not wish to see her.”
White hot pain slices through my chest, far more excruciating than any time I had to listen to Ollie pounding another woman on the other side of the wall.
“Ollie?” I whisper, not caring that a door separates us.
“Your belongings have been returned to your condo,” he informs me. “I do not wish to see you again.”
When Oliver makes up his mind about something, nothing and no one can stop him.
I burst into tears.
Mrs. Cucinelli wraps me in her arms and pets my hair. “Ssh. Oh, no. Don’t cry, precious girl. He might’ve confused who was saying what back at the house because he wasn’t able to see who was speaking. You’re still going to replace me as the number one woman in his life. Just let me go in alone and fix it first.”
I don’t have any choice.
He never wants to see me again.
A knock on my door sends me leaping from my puddle of misery on my couch. It’s not who I hoped for.
“Everything okay?”
“Do I look okay, Mr. Hooper?” It’s mean, but really. My eyes have to be practically swollen shut. There’s undoubtedly snot dripping from my nose, and I have the worst case of sobbing induced hiccups of my entire life.
He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans. “I couldn’t help but overhear what happened. I was out in my yard raking leaves. Thought I’d come over and check on you since it’s been hours since his mom went in there.”
I choke out a laugh that ends in another sob. “There are a lot more leaves than there were a few weeks ago. Maybe you could go back out and continue eavesdropping then report back to me.”
He smiles, but it’s tinged with sadness. “I don’t need to be nosey to know what’s going on here. Talked to Oliver about it a few weeks ago. I’m guessing he didn’t take my advice.”
Curiosity overrides my better judgment. Mr. Hooper might still be a secret vampire, but I open my door wider and gesture for him to come in. “Hopefully, you have some advice for me, too, because I’m fresh out of ideas, and I’ve had several hours to come up with something.”
He steps inside with his hands still in his pockets and glances around at my living space for a few moments in silence. “Nice place.”
“It’s exactly the same as yours.”
He smiles again. “Same architecture,