His Dangerous Love On Ice (Olivia and Zane) novel Chapter 199

Olive’s POV

She turned to look at me then, and something in her expression softened.

“It’s not your fault,” she said quietly. “None of this is your fault, Olive. You didn’t know. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

We sat in silence for another moment before I forced myself to ask the question that needed asking.

“So you’re not ready to go back,” I said. “To your matrimonial home. Not yet.”

It wasn’t really a question, but she answered anyway.

“No,” she whispered. “I can’t. Not right now.”

I took a deep breath.

“Do you want to come to my apartment?” I offered. “You can stay with me. For as long as you need.”

She looked at me with surprise written all over her face.

“Your apartment?” she repeated. “Olive, I don’t want to impose-”

“You’re not imposing,” I interrupted. “You’re my mother. And you need somewhere safe to be right now. So come stay with me.”

She nodded slowly, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for ignoring your calls this past week. For blaming you. For pushing you away when 1 should have-”

“It’s fine,” I said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “It’s all fine, Mom. We’ll figure this out together. Like we always do.”

I pulled away from Walter’s house and started driving toward my apartment, and for the first time since this whole disaster started, I felt like maybe we’d actually survive it.

The drive to my apartment took about twenty minutes.

I’d moved out of my mother’s house about three months ago-well, technically, Grayson had kicked me out after the charity gala disaster, but I’d turned it into independence.

And in all that time, my mother had never visited.

Not once.

She’d offered, of course. Had suggested coming over for dinner or just stopping by to see the place.

But I’d always made excuses. Always found reasons to meet her somewhere else instead.

Because having her in my space felt too intimate. Too vulnerable. Too much like opening up parts of my life I wasn’t ready to share.

But now, as I pulled into the parking garage of my building and killed the engine, none of that mattered.

“Come on,” I said gently. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

We took the elevator up to my floor, and I unlocked my door, pushing it open and flipping on the lights.

Diane stepped inside and stopped completely, her eyes going wide as she took in the space.

It wasn’t a shoebox apartment. Wasn’t some cramped studio I’d had to settle for.

It was actually nice.

Open-concept living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that let in tons of natural light. Modern kitchen with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. Hardwood floors throughout. Crown molding. A balcony with a view of the city skyline.

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