“Who, exactly, is calling you?”
The phone has stopped, just as Oliver retrieves it from a pocket, and it pings with a voice message as he looks over to me. “Work. I’m on call tonight.”
“On call?”
“My manager said that since we’re getting closer to the date of this—uh, big event, and she has to fly to New York for meetings, I needed to take the 24-hour phone home with me. So…I did.”
Oliver is not supposed to have a phone while he’s in this house, but I don’t want to point that out, because it will make me sound like I’ve kidnapped him and am holding him against his will. Fortunately, he addresses my concerns for me.
“IknowI’m not supposed to have a phone,” he sighs. “But this is different. It’s a work phone. I’m not going to be doomscrolling through Insta, I promise. I can’tnothave it with me. I was going to explain to you, but I didn’t get a chance. But like I said, I’m on call for the next week.”
It’s not much of an explanation. Frowning, I ask, “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means I’m…” He waves his arms around. “On call, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, until my manager gets back.”
The ugly part of me is rising up. I can feel it. The selfish part of me who only ever wants his own way. “That sounds rather like your contract withme, Oliver.”
“I’m not any more thrilled about it than you are, but Icouldn’tsay no.”
“Of course you could. You just decided not to.”
He stares at me for a moment. “That’s not fair.”
I look away and try to collect myself, but we’re interrupted all over again by the phone ringing.
“I have to take this,” Oliver snaps, and doesn’t even wait for my nod before he answers it. “Hello? Hi, Sarita, what’s—oh. Okay, don’t panic, we’ll figure it out.”
Even as my temper is rising, I’m impressed at how calm and soothing he sounds. Whoever has called himispanicking, based on the loud and frantic chatter coming from the other end of the line.
“…I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Oliver says, and then he hangs up. He looks at me, his eyes challenging. “I have to go. I’m sorry. There’s an emergency at the Bell—at work. Pipes burst in the basement, and they need me there in person to sign off on the work order.”
“They can’t get someone else to do it? I don’t see why it has to beyou.”
I’m being petulant and obstinate, for no other reason than I don’t want Oliver to leave, not now, not when I was about to announce my future plans to him. Tonight was supposed to be the first night of something special between us.
And once again, his bloodyworkis interrupting.
Oliver begins to pull his clothes on again. “Elliot,” he says, his voice level but tight, “I have to go. Itoldyou that was one of the rules for me being here, that I have to put work first when—”
“But you’realwaysputting work first!”
He yanks on his trousers, glaring at me. “Elliot, Ihaveto put my real life first. What don’t yougetabout that?”
“If this isn’t your real life, ifI’mnot real to you, why even bother coming here in the first place and—and—playingpretend?”
When Oliver puts his hands on his hips and stares at me I see that he’s as angry as I am.
More, actually. He’s furious. “I have a lifeoutsidehere! You arenotthe center of the universe, Elliot!”
“I know that!” I snap back. “I just want to be the center ofyours.” It’s out of my mouth before I realize how it will sound.
He lets out a cackle of disbelief. “You know what? Sometimes I think you don’t really want a service sub,” he spits out. “You just want aservant.”
I put my hands behind my back and lift my chin up. “Is that so? Well, if you leave tonight, Oliver, I willnotneed your services again.”
I’ve gone too far. I know it, even as I’m saying it, but I can’t take it back now.
He stares at me for a long moment. “Fine,” he says at last. “Have it your way,my lord.”
