“Four o’clock,” I repeat, knee aching as I leave Ollie and the galley behind.
16
Seven years earlier
A year after successfully navigating Ollie’s Immigration interview, not much in my life had changed, but the things that had were all good. My credit had improved as I slowly paid down my debt. We’d both quit smoking. One night during charter season, we’d made a bet to see who could go the longest without a cigarette, and neither of us gave in. We lived together in the same apartment. Another charter season had come and gone.
And despite our initial agreement that our “method acting” would last only two weeks, I still found myself waking up next to Ollie more often than I liked to admit.
So I didn’t admit it. Not to anyone. We didn’t talk about it either. We pretended there had never been an expiration date, just like we pretended we weren’t slipping into each other’s beds in the middle of the night whenever we couldn’t sleep.
Which was perfectly fine by me. There was nothing to talk about.I had everything I wanted: a decent apartment, a great job, my friend, fabulous sex. It was the simplest my life had ever been.
And then Ollie had to go and ruin it.
It had been an awful week. My second stew had quit without notice, leaving me to manage the day charters by myself. Xav hadn’t liked any of the candidates so far. I was exhausted and needed something to cheer me up. One of our guests had told me about an estate sale and how the owner had been known for her eclectic fashion sense. Even if I couldn’t afford a single thing, it would be enough to see it all for myself. That morning, I woke up in Ollie’s bed, intending to slip out unnoticed. But as soon as I moved, Ollie slung an arm around my waist and pulled me against him, burying his face in my neck.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he mumbled.
“An estate sale.”
He grunted, then let go of me to roll onto his back with a yawn. “All right. I’m up.”
I turned to face him. “You don’t have to come with me.”
“I don’t mind.” He rubbed his eyes, then paused to look at me. “Unless you don’t want me to come.”
“That’s not what I meant. I figured getting up early to spend your day off at some dead lady’s mansion wasn’t your cup of tea.”
“It’s my cup of tea.” He sat up with a dramatic yawn and stretched his arms above his head. “Speaking of tea, I’m gonna put the kettle on. Want me to start the coffee?”
“I can do it.”
“I know youcando it.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“That’s not what you were saying last night.” I hurled a pillow at him, but Ollie caught it with a laugh and tossed it back at me,hitting me in the face. “Right. I’ll make you enough for the big tumbler. You look exhausted, you know. Were you up late last night or something?”
“You really are insufferable!” I called after him when he left the room.
Giant coffee in hand, I wandered the mansion with Ollie for over two hours, laughing at his commentary as I ran my hands over the woman’s strange and beautiful things—vintage ostrich-feather boas, and antique jewelry, and dramatic evening gowns I’d never be able to afford, not even if I paid off all my debt.
There were a lot of horse tapestries.
The estate sale had done wonders for my mood. But then we returned home and were met by the worst smell I’d ever had the displeasure of smelling in my entire life.
“Shite,” Ollie said as soon as we stepped inside.
“What... Oh,” I said, plugging my nose as soon as I followed him in. “It smells like...”
“Shite,” Ollie said again. He pinched his nose between his fingers and walked through the apartment, searching for the source of the offensive smell.
“It’s not good, Neen,” he said, meeting me at the hall that led to our bedrooms and bathroom.
The hems of Ollie’s jeans were wet. I peered beyond him, unable to hold in a gasp when I realized the hallway was flooded.
“Please tell me that’s not coming from—”
