Your phone rang. It was a number you didn't recognize and you pushed the button to dismiss the call. A minute later it rang again. The same number. You dismissed it again with a frown. When they called for the third time in five minutes you gave into your curiosity and answered. "Hello?"

For a moment there was no response. Then a clearing of a throat followed by the soft call of your name.

"Yes?"

"It's Oliver."

You sucked in a breath and tears flooded your eyes instantly. "I don't know who this is, but that isn't funny."

"I'm not joking. It's me."

"That's not possible. Oliver's dead." Your thumb hovered over the button, ready to disconnect the call. But there was that little thread deep inside that wished it was true. That this voice on the other side of the phone could be your Oliver because god, you'd missed him. Every single day since that boat had gone down.

"Who else would know to call you?"

That gave you pause. You and Oliver had been seeing each other for two years when he vanished, but the only one that knew besides the two of you was Laurel Lance. She was his public girlfriend. The face in the press. In reality she would disappear to study for law school and you and Ollie would spend time together.

Besides the fact your brother was his best friend, your father had put him on the absolutely not list of potential suitors for you. Not that there were many on the yes list. Your dad could be a little over protective. And a bit of an ass if you were honest. When you'd casually mentioned maybe going on a date with Oliver, your father had threatened to cut you off completely. That included not paying for school.

He called your name when you'd been silent for too long.

"It can't really be you." Your voice was quiet, little more than a whisper. Hot tears ran down your cheeks and you bit back a sob. Every single part of you wanted it to be him. Wanted this dream to be real, but it was impossible.

"The night before I left, I asked you to marry me."

At that you were no longer able to contain your cries. You'd never told anyone that. Not even Laurel. It had been your secret. A piece of Oliver that was just yours. You sucked in a ragged breath. "Where are you?"

"Starling General. Room 1241."

You hung up without saying goodbye and grabbed your bag. You took the stairs two at a time and pushed past your dad and brother who were coming in the door as you left. You ignored them calling after you. Nothing was going to stop you until you saw Oliver with your own eyes.

The drive to the hospital was a blur. You parked and hurried inside. You must have pressed the button for the elevator a dozen times as if that would make it arrive faster. When you finally arrived at the twelfth floor you hurried through the halls to the room number he'd given you. A nurse tried to get your attention as you racecd by, but you ignored her.

"Miss," she called again as you opened the door and stepped into the room.

A man stood in front of the window looking out at the city. Oliver. His hair was shorter and his shape had changed but it was him. Your heart raced and your chest drew tight. Moisture flooded your eyes again. You opened your mouth to say his name and were interrupted by the nurse busting into the room behind you.

"Miss, you can't be here."

Oliver snapped around, his eyes instantly finding yours. And just like that, five years disappeared. If anything, you only loved him more.

The nurse gripped your arm. "I'm sorry, Mr. Queen."

He held up a hand to stop her and smiled. "It's fine. She's my...mine. She's mine. She's with me, I mean."

The woman muttered apologies and backed from the room.

Oliver and you stared at one another for a long moment, both of you taking in the changes in the other. Then he opened his arms and you launched yourself at him. You didn't even think about it. It was as if your body was drawn to his. You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his neck. He held you to him with one hand on your back and one in your hair. His hold tightened and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head while you wept.

"God, I missed you. I thought about you every day. This is what I dreamed about coming home to."

You took a step back and wiped the tears from your eyes. Oliver's hands settled on your waist as he looked at you with a soft smile. "I missed you so much, Ollie. So much has happened but somehow, it's all still the same. I can't believe you're here."

His smile faltered and his hands fell away. "Are you with someone? I just wanted to see you. I didn't even think—"

You pressed your fingers to his lips to cut him off and smiled. "There's never been anyone but you."

His smile returned under your touch and his hands found your waist again. He pulled you into him and kissed your lips. Soft at first, the kiss soon turned into something more. A desperate need to reconnect with the person you thought you'd lost forever. To be as close you could get to the man you loved to the deepest parts of your soul.

"Oliver, we need—" The voice cut off and you turned to see the doctor looking on with wide eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt, but there are some more tests I'd like to run."

You shifted your gaze to Oliver. "I can go."

His hand linked with yours, your fingers threaded together. "You're not going anywhere."

***

You curled up in a chair in the corner of his room and the two of you talked while people poked and prodded at him. A couple of times he left to have something done outside the room and you were right there waiting when he returned.

By unspoken agreement, the two of you left the heavy conversation for later. You just took solace in each other's presence. Oliver kept getting up to wander over to the window. It must all seem so strange to him. A lot had changed in the city in his absence.

That's where he was when his mother arrived. You remained quiet hoping she wouldn't notice your presence. For some reason, Moira never seemed to care for you much. You watched their reunion with a small smile. At least you did until Moira opened her eyes mid-hug and spotted you.

She pushed away from Oliver to frown at you. "What are you doing here?"

You looked from her to her son. He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Mom—"

"No," she said, cutting him off. "It was very nice of you to come by, but I'm not even certain how you got in here."

She stepped toward the door and Oliver grabbed her arm. "Mom, stop."

Moira turned back to look at him.

"I asked her to come."

"But..." Her gaze moved between the two of you and her brow furrowed. "You said you didn't want anyone here until they were done with the tests. And why her of all people?"

"I said I didn't want anyone here to fuss over me until they were finished. And she is my fiancée."

Moira dropped onto the end of the hospital bed. "I'm sorry, what?"

Oliver looked at you, a plea for help in his eyes. You took a breath and turned to his mother. "We were seeing each other for a couple of years before the accident. Laurel covered for us. He proposed the night before he left."

"Why hide it?"

"You know my dad. He didn't want me dating at all but especially not Oliver or anyone in Tommy's circle of friends. He threatened to quit paying for school."

She stared at you with a sheen of moisture in her eyes. "But you—"

You cut her off. "There are a lot of things Oliver and I haven't discussed yet. I'd appreciate it if you gave us time to do so."

Moira's gaze narrowed as she pursed her lips. She rose to her feet and you mirrored the motion, prepared to stand your ground. You weren't going to allow her to take this happiness from you.

"You selfish bitch," she snarled. The venom in her voice surprised you. "All this time and you never once—"

"Enough." Oliver's command startled his mother into silence. "I just got home. Can we not start this already?"

You could tell there was so much Moira wanted to say, but she settled for a glare in your direction and nod of her head. "Fine. The doctor said they'll release you in the morning. I'll pick you up."

"Good." He gave his mother a tight smile and kissed her temple.

After one last look in your direction, she left.

"You want to tell me what exactly that was about?" Oliver looked weary and his jaw was tight. He held up a hand to stop you when you opened your mouth to explain. "And don't tell me it was nothing. My mother hasn't seen me in five years and just spent less than ten minutes in my presence. So, what's going on?"

You took a deep breath and chewed at your lip. You knew you were going to have this conversation eventually, but frankly you didn't know how he would respond so you'd been content to put it off for a bit.

"Are you married?"

You frowned. "Why would you ask that? I already told you there was no one but you."

"Because you aren't saying anything and that's about the worst thing I can think of right now." He huffed a laugh but there was no humor in it.

You shook your head and pulled out your phone. You scrolled through your pictures until you found the one you wanted and handed it over.

Oliver's eyes studied it for a moment. The furrow in his brow deepened before suddenly smoothing as his brows shot up. His gaze darted from the screen to you and back again. You twisted your hands together, waiting for his response. When he said nothing, you started to talk.

"I found out about an hour before we heard about the Gambit. It was both the best and worst day of my life. His name is Jonas."

Tears pooled in Oliver's eyes as his attention focused solely on you. "My middle name."

You gave a soft smile. "That was as close as I could get to naming him after you."

He ran a hand down his face. "Wow. I...I'm a dad."

"I'm sorry, Ollie. I was going to give you a chance to adjust before I sprung this on you."

He sat on the side of his bed and laid the phone on the table beside the bed. "No one knows he's mine?"

You sat beside him and laced your fingers with his. You gripped tight and didn't dare look at him. If he didn't want this—didn't want you—you didn't know what you'd do. "I was terrified. You don't know what it was like. I was grieving and alone. How was I supposed to go about telling everyone I'd been lying to them for years? I couldn't. Not without you. All I kept thinking was that dad would kick me out and your mother would try to take him from me."

He wrapped his other hand around yours and squeezed. "No. I get it. It's fine."

Your head jerked up. "So, you're not angry?"

That furrow appeared between his brows again as he tilted his head. "Why would I be angry?"

You shrugged and looked away. "I just told you that you're the father of a four-year-old and no one knows."

He moved one hand to cup the side of your face and turned your head so you were looking at him. "Listen to me, sweetheart. If I'm honest, I'm kind of glad no one knows. It's fitting I find out first, isn't it?"

You smiled and shook your head in amusement. Leave it to Oliver to think of it that way. You grabbed your phone and opened the gallery back up before handing it to him. "You want me to tell you about him?"

"Absolutely," he answered with no hesitation.

It was well after midnight by the time you'd exhausted the stash of pictures in your phone but not your stories. The two of you laid in the bed together, your head on his chest and your fingers laced together on his stomach as you told him of skinned knees and artistic endeavors. Anytime you stopped talking, afraid you were boring him, he'd encourage you to keep going. As the sun began to lighten the early morning sky, you drifted to sleep wrapped in the warmth of your lover's arms, both of you content for the first time in years.