“There’s a new patient in her room. A very sweet woman.”
Oliver turned around and wrapped me in his arms.
“It’s just a room,” I mumbled against his chest.
Since I hadn’t eaten all day, I was famished, for food, for Oliver. But my gurgling stomach won. We went down to the kitchen. I was still in my scrubs. The unflattering green ones which were all I had clean in my locker at work. I had been in a hurry to leave, so I hadn’t changed back into the clothes I had arrived with in the morning.
“You look great in those,” Oliver said as we cooked pasta together.
He must be in love, I thought, because although green usually looked good on me, this shade and that outfit was far from flattering.
“Vi hated these; said I look like a nurse,” I said. Then, recalling, I added, “That’s what Blanche thought I was when she was here.”
Oliver seemed to slightly choke on the bite he had taken of a carrot I had asked him to chop. “I forgot about that,” he said honestly, looking at me.
I stood next to him, mixing the sauce ingredients. He had wanted us to order in, but I’d insisted on using the things he had stocked the kitchen with when he had known my kids were arriving.
I chuckled. “She’s lovely.”
“Yes. I appreciate her professionally.” He stopped chopping entirely.
I laughed and pivoted toward him, feeling sorry for him. He looked trapped. “That’s okay, I’m not jealous. I know you appreciated her in another way, too.” I knew he wouldn’t contradict me. “She does seem lovely. I could see why you … invested in her.”
“That’s what she said about you.”
“See? Lovely. And gorgeous as a bonus.”
“You’re in a league of your own, you know that, right?”
“I don’t know about that, but it’s good to hear.”
Oliver moved closer to me. “I wish you could see yourself as I see you. You’re beautiful, January. Always were. And strong, and resilient, and amazing. But you have to understand that I wouldn’t have loved you any differently if you were tall, skinny, and blonde, or short, hairy, and flat-chested. I just love you no matter what. And it’s theyouinside that I always wanted to drown in.” He grabbed my hips and pulled me to him, his thigh wedging between my legs.
I wrapped my arms around him.
It was going to be Oliver first, pasta later. Best diet I’ve ever had.
Chapter 30
Oliver
“Don’t you need clothes in London?” January asked when she saw the small bag I pulled out of the room I was using as an office, which had a door connecting to the bedroom. “Or are you planning on being naked there all the time, too?”
We had been spending the last two days mostly clothes-free. In my bed, in my shower, on the kitchen counter when the coffee had taken too long for us to keep our hands off each other, and in the pool where I had sat her on the edge and made a feast out of her.
“I’m planning on being fully clothed there.” I smiled. I had done more smiling and laughing in the last few days than I had in a decade. “I have clothes there, too.” I was almost embarrassed to admit it to her. Fucking millionaire.
“I got you something.” She blushed.
“Clothes?” We were actually both dressed now, for a change.
She chuckled. “Something else.” She went over to her bag, a big brown sack with frills, that was thrown on the floor next to some decorative basket that the decorator had left in the bedroom.
“Not taking it,” I said when she straightened up and I noticed her fist was closed around something.
“Come on …”
She refused to take my car, any money I wanted to transfer to her so she’d have something in her account, rejected my proposal regarding the house, didn’t want me to take her out anywhere except Fred’s on the highway, so I didn’t dare buy or offer to do anything else for her. And now she wanted to givemesomething?
