“I’ve thought about it,” he says. “Part of me wants to, but the other part. Well, I’m still angry, to tell you the truth.”
“Of course you are—”
“And ashamed,” Ollie says, continuing as if he hasn’t heard me. “I left them with him. I didn’t keep in touch. That’s what I said to Jack when we talked, but he told me to get over myself and...” The words trail off and Ollie drops his face into his hands.
“And what?”
Ollie lifts his head, leveling his gaze on me. “He asked if I’d help him run the pub.”
I force myself to connect the dots. “Move home to Ireland. Permanently.”
He nods.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I needed a few months to sort things out before I could decide.”
“Oh,” I say.Me. I’m the thing to sort out.
He takes my hands in his. “What should I tell him, Nina?”
“I can’t tell you what to do, Ollie.”
“But I’m asking you to tell me,” he says. His voice is frayed and pleading. “I’m fucking begging you here.”
I feel every burn and callus on his hands as they grip mine. “I don’t want you to go,” I say.
“I don’t have to go. Tell me not to go.”
I’ve spent so much time worrying about what will happen if I say yes to Ollie that I’ve never really considered what it would be like if I said no until now. What would it be like to know, really know, that I’d never have these hands on me again?
“I love you,” I say. “Don’t go.”
Ollie’s fidgeting hands still. His eyes meet mine, searching. All this time, I’ve never said it. Even though it was always true. Even though he’s said it to me a million times.
I pry my hands from Ollie’s and take the napkin from my lap to wipe the mess from his face as gently as he’d done for me. Ollie doesn’t move, not so much as a twitch of an eyebrow. He stares up at me, stuck, and I wonder if I’ve finally broken him.
“Nina,” Ollie says when I wipe away the sauce from above one of his eyebrows. “Say that again. I can’t have heard you right.”
I set the napkin on the table and take his face in my hands. I feel like I’ve torn out my heart and put it into this ridiculous man, where anything could happen to it—good or bad. I dip my face closer, and my nose brushes against his. “I love you, Oliver Dunne.”
“Do you mean that?” he whispers. “You aren’t just saying that because you feel bad for me, or because I make a fecking good spaghetti with Cap’n Crunch?”
I pull a spaghetti noodle from his hair with a laugh. “It’s not that,though I’m sure the Cap’n Crunch helped. I really do love you, Ollie. I’ve loved you all this time.”
We’re still for a moment, just looking at each other, and then Ollie pulls me from my chair and onto his lap on the restaurant floor. I’m not sure who is kissing whom, but when I’m sure I’ll pass out if I don’t take a breath, I pull away, giving him a pointed look. “I will not have sex with you on a restaurant floor.”
“This is working out even better than I imagined,” he says.
I take one of his hands and press it against my cheek. I feel the warmth of his skin against it and want that feeling everywhere else. “Shh.” I drop his hand and press a finger to his lips. “The talking part of this date is over.”
Ollie laughs, then takes my hand and kisses it. “Love, if we’re sleeping together tonight, you know that’s not true.”
18
As soon as we’re in the cab, Ollie is kissing me senseless again. I set my mind toDo Not Disturb. Goodbye, anxiety about the future, I will see you tomorrow. Goodbye, thoughts of anything other than Ollie and his mouth and every other part of him.
The rest of the crew still hasn’t returned from their night out when Ollie and I board theSerendipity.We make our way onto the boat slowly, unable to go ten seconds without kissing each other against whatever happens to be nearby: the yacht railing where I’d first seen him, the dining table where I’ve served countless meals he’s made.
