"I think we should just knock down all these walls here."

Olivia swept her hand over the crumbling drywall—or whatever the hell it was—that made very poor excuses for walls.

"I don't think we have a choice in the matter," I mumbled, typing rapidly into my phone as I peeked up at my wife.

She scowled in my direction—a look I'd come to know very well. "Are you even listening to me, Ash?"

"Yes!"

'No, you're not." Hands flew onto her hips. "You're on your phone. Working already, then?"

"Liv." I turned the phone around so she could see it. Liv was a few paces away and squinted, craning her neck to examine the text. "I'm taking notes," I explained. "So I can tell the contractor what you want."

Olivia straightened. "Oh."

"Oh," I repeated with a teasing smile.

A light blush spread over Olivia's cheeks, and it took everything in me not to go over there and touch it, to not swipe my finger gently over that heated skin. But I didn't. Instead, I cleared my throat to say, "We should probably head back to London soon, though. I know you brought all your luggage, but I don't think you're going to find anywhere comfortable to sleep in this mess. We can return next weekend to continue our plans."

It was clear she was reluctant to leave, but Olivia replied with a slow nod.

The sky was dusky as she followed me out the massive front doors of Rosecrest. Liv stepped into the front circle drive and tipped her head back, staring up at the stony front walls, tracing the vines with her dark eyes. Somehow I managed to tear my eyes away from her to turn and lock the doors, giving them an extra tug to ensure everything was secure.

By the time I looked back, Olivia was slipping into my Audi. I gave one final glance at the manor house, and for the first time, I sent my thanks for this disaster of a house.

It was going to be a nightmare to renovate. But if it meant that I had the chance to win Olivia back, then I'd gladly suffer through.

We drove away. But it wasn't goodbye, and I was surprised to find that the thought sat well with me.

As the sky darkened and the silence stretched between us, we grew closer to London. And a hard resolve settled within me, knowing that when we arrived back at Olivia's flat, I was going to have to set something straight. Set something right. Because while I might be able to slowly win Olivia over throughout the process of fixing up Rosecrest, I simply didn't want to wait that long to prove to her that I wanted to fix us.

Pulling in front of her building, I parked and turned the car off. As I got out, I heard Liv say, "What are you doing?"

By the time she'd emerged from her side of the car, I was already pulling her luggage out, ready to tow it up to the top floor where she lived.

Not wanting to argue about it, I started toward the door. Olivia followed, sputtering all the way and then eventually giving up and simply unlocking the entrance to let me carry her things in.

When we got inside, Olivia sighed and, though it sounded a bit reluctant, said, "Thank you for your help, Ash."

I lingered in the entryway, watching as Liv slipped out of her shoes and shuffled to the kitchen. It was nice—modern and clean but with a flair of elegance. Very...Olivia. I scanned the rest of the flat, and it was much of the same. And even though it appeared to have every level of comfort she should need, I still hated to picture her here. Without me. It never should have come to this.

Olivia wrapped her fingers around the neck of a bottle of red wine before making quick work of the cork and pouring herself a glass.

As she brought the Chianti—that was always her favorite—to her lips, she paused, eyeing me above the glass rim. After taking a slow sip that was honestly torture for me to watch, Olivia lowered her drink and rose a brow. "Would you like some?"

I shook my head, and her expression fell a bit. So I hastily added, "But I don't want to go."

Liv's dark eyes caught mine, and a simmering awareness lingered between us. She took another drink, never letting me go with that gaze of hers. Finally, she said, "You're welcome to stay for a bit before you leave."

Shaking my head again, I stepped into the kitchen, sidling up the other opposite side of the counter from where Olivia stood. Her watchful eyes followed my movements. "You misunderstand, Liv."

She cocked her head to the side.

After taking a deep breath, I added, "I don't want to leave you."

Her head slowly straightened again. Long lashes flicked about as she studied my face, looking for...something. I didn't know what it was, but I hoped she found it.

"It's what I should have said that night when you told me to go," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "I should have refused to leave. I should have fought harder. I'm sorry." I swallowed past the dryness in my throat. "I'm sorry, Liv."

"What..." She frowned, confusion spreading over her features. "Ash... what's happening right now?"

I backed away from the kitchen, keeping my eyes on my wife as I sank into one of the armchairs in her small living space. "I'm doing what I should have done months ago." I crossed my legs and tossed an arm lazily over the back of the chair. It was the picture of nonchalance, even though everything in me was on edge.

"Which is?"

"I'm not leaving, Liv."

She scoffed. The clank of her wine glass hit the stone countertop. "You can't be serious."

I shrugged. "Never been more serious about anything."

"Ash..."

Gesturing to the sofa across the room, I said, "I'll sleep on the couch." I was very aware that I was pushing my luck, but I had to try. I had to try something.

After a prolonged moment of Olivia gaping in my direction, she finally threw her arms in the air and demanded, "Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

I shrugged again.

Olivia scoffed again. Took another drink of her wine. Clashed it back onto the counter so hard I worried it would break the glass.

"You have to leave eventually, Asher."

Tilting my head, I asked, "Why's that?"

"You have work. And I know you won't miss that."

Picking up a magazine from a stack on the carpeted floor, I flipped it open, perusing without actually taking in any of the pictures or the words. I just needed to give my hands something to do.

"Oh, I'll miss it, alright. Work can wait," I said, keeping my eyes on the ad for some overpriced cologne that probably smelled like shit and was also probably in my closet somewhere. "Although, if you head to work, then there's no point in me sitting around here. But I'd make sure to be back before you." Olivia worked part-time for an advertising agency. She helped produce photoshoots like the ones for this cologne.

Finally, I caught a peek of Liv from the corner of my eye. "I—"Her mouth gaped open, but she couldn't seem to find any words to say. And she was now holding onto her wine glass as if it was her only lifeline.

"There is only one way that I'd leave." I threw the magazine back onto the ground. It sent the other magazines flying as it smacked against them. But that didn't matter. Because Olivia's eyes had connected with mine again. And whether from the wine, the pronouncement of my plan, or whatever else, her face had grown flushed. It was adorable. It was gorgeous. And I couldn't look away.

"What's that?" she whispered above her glass.

"If you told me to," I said simply. "Which I noticed you haven't done yet. If you truly wanted me to leave, I would, Olivia. But I'm saying this right now...I don't want to." Hesitating, I tried to sort out my thoughts so I wouldn't fuck this up. Liv was staring at me with wide eyes. She tucked wisps of brown hair behind her ear, and I noticed a slight shake to her hand. I desperately wanted to walk over there and clasp those fingers in mine.

So I did. I stood and strode slowly to the kitchen. When I got close enough that I could see the hazel flecks in her eyes, I leaned onto the countertop. And then I covered her hand in mine. She let me, staring first down at our entwined fingers and then back up to my face. With my free hand, I pushed my own dark locks out of my eyes, wanting nothing to obstruct my vision.

"I don't want to leave you, never did. I love you, Olivia," I said lowly. Swallowing, I continued. "And I don't think you want me to leave, either. Because it's possible you still love me, too. But you're scared and unsure. And that's my fault. So I'll sleep on this couch as many nights as it takes for you to believe that I'm not leaving again unless you make me."

Olivia was holding her breath now; I could tell. Her eyes shimmered, her lip tucked into her teeth. And god, I wanted to kiss her. But I already made that move twice today, and it hadn't helped anything.

So I slipped my hands back out hers and took a slight step back. I had put my heart and my hand on the table. Now it was up to her.

Liv finally released the breath she'd sucked in. Then she took a long drink of wine. There were only dregs left in the glass when she put it back on the counter. In a quiet voice, she said, "I'm going to take a shower." Her nose wrinkled adorably. "I can still smell the water from that pond." Then she pointed to the mantle above the sleek, marbled fireplace. "The remote is there if you need something to do."

Well, it wasn't a kiss. But it wasn't a dismissal either. So I let slip a grin and walked to grab the remote. I had no interest in watching anything, but that didn't really matter.

When I heard the shower turn on somewhere in the flat, I settled into the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position and deciding there really wasn't one. It was going to be a rather long night. But that didn't matter either.

I was lost in my own thoughts when Olivia reappeared in front of me, carrying two folded, white towels. A silky dressing gown was wrapped tightly around her waist. And that dark, lovely hair of hers was damp, braided loosely and hanging over her shoulder. I was momentarily distracted by everything about her until she tossed the towels into my lap.

"Your turn."

With a smirk, I asked, "Are you trying to tell me that I smell like pond water too?"

All Olivia did was roll her eyes and walk back towards a door that I could only assume led to her bedroom. When I didn't immediately follow, she hollered back at me. "In here, Ash!"

I jumped up, like a dog on a leash, walking into the small but posh room and taking a direct right turn through the doorway she was pointing at. I closed the door, finding myself in a white, tiled bathroom. A shower was tucked in the corner, and the glass doors were still foggy from Olivia's rinse.

I had already stripped my shirt off when I heard the door creak open behind me. In the mirror, I saw Liv's head pop into the room. It was hard to resist smiling as her eyes took just a little too long in their ascent from my chest to my face. And then, when she realized I had been watching, waiting, and smirking, her face blossomed with a pleasant flush again.

"Here are some of your old clothes," she said after clearing her throat. A pair of sweats and a shirt landed on the bathroom floor.

I looked down at them. "Why do you have those?"

She glanced away. One of her shoulders gave a little shrug. "They were comfortable, so I might have stolen them when I moved out."

And then she disappeared, leaving me to feel far too many things.

After showering quickly, I threw on my clothes and strode back into the bedroom. Olivia had tucked herself beneath plush bedding. And in her fingers, she was fiddling with her wedding ring.

I held my breath, not knowing what to say. I pushed my damp hair out of my face, waiting, but nothing came to me. So I muttered, "You must be tired, Liv."

She nodded, placing the ring on the bedside table and pulling the covers up over her chest. After one last look at her, I turned to go. But her soft voice stopped me.

"Wait."

I was almost too nervous to peek back at her.

"Ash."

As I slowly spun on my heel, Olivia came into view again. She was peering over the edge of the blanket at me, her eyes soft and gentle. "Did you mean everything you said, Asher?"

"Everything, Olivia."

She paused, biting her lip as she debated. And then... "The couch isn't very comfortable."

"I'll be fine."

"It's some Ikea sofa. I had to put it together myself, and I cannot guarantee it won't fall apart on you."

I shrugged, trying not to laugh as I pictured Olivia with tools. And then all humor died in me as I thought more about why Olivia had needed to put together her own furniture in her own flat. My voice was tight as I asked, "Are you trying to tell me to leave, Liv?"

"No."

"Then the couch is fine."

"I just..." She cleared her throat. Liv blinked up at me, and my heart nearly stopped when she said, "I just think the bed would be more comfortable, Ash."

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