Grabbing the container of disinfectant wipes, I start sanitizing my table. The familiar motions—wipe down the vinyl, get the armrests, don’t forget the adjustment lever—give my hands something to do while my mind drifts to Oliver and how wound up he was last night after he told his family off. The set of his shoulders when we left, the tightness around his eyes. Whenwe left my house this morning, he was sullen, almost depressed. Quiet in a way that made me want to fill the silence but also respect his need to sit with whatever he was feeling.
Which he shouldn’t be. His family is completely in the wrong with the way they talk to him. They need?—
A knock on my office door makes me turn around. “Forget something?” I call out, going to open the door for Kacey. Maybe she left her water bottle, or her phone, or?—
But it’s Oliver, filling my doorway with two coffees in a carrier and a bag of what smells like heaven. The sight of him surprises a laugh out of me.
“Please tell me you have bagels in there,” I squeak.
He grins, and the expression transforms his entire face—chases away whatever darkness was there this morning. “I have bagels in here.”
“Yessss.” Pushing onto my tiptoes, I give him a quick kiss and snatch the bag from his hand. The paper crinkles under my fingers, warm and promising.
“Is this a good time?”
“It’s perfect. My last appointment of the day just left.” Taking a seat on the couch, I pull out an everything bagel. The seeds and salt crystals catch the light. “How are you? You seem better. Did you hear anything from your PI friend about who sent those messages?”
Sitting on the other side of the couch, he sips his coffee. The steam curls up between us. “No, but my parents called.”
“And?” I freeze, the first bite halfway to my mouth. My teeth are already anticipating the chew, but now all I can do is wait.
“We talked. It was… better than I expected.”
“They apologized?”
His face twists, something between a grimace and a frown. “No, but it was probably the most honest conversation we’ve ever had. They said they didn’t know I felt the way I did, and that they’re just trying to help me…”
“Sounds familiar.” The words come out before I can stop them, but they’re not accusatory. Just... true.
He rubs his forehead, the gesture weary. “I know. I hate that I did that to you.”
“When you explained that behavior as you trying to help me, I understood it differently.” I pause, studying the way his jaw works, the way his free hand rests on his thigh. “Do you see them differently now? Maybe… relate to them a bit?”
“Yeah.” He stares at the window, where weak winter sunlight filters through the blinds. “I do. But I’ve owned my behavior. With them… It’s different. I’m not holding out for them to change. I told them that they have one more strike. They need to treat both me and you with respect from here on out. One more strike and I’m gone.”
“That’s big.” I reach for his hand, and he tightens his hold on my fingers immediately, like he was waiting for the contact.
“I know,” he rasps, looking at the floor. The overhead light catches in his hair. “It has to be. I can’t keep living this way.”
“I’m proud of you,” I murmur, my chest full of pride while also twisting with anxiety. The two sensations war with each other, making it hard to breathe properly. Is it time I say something like that to my family?
No. It’s different. I’m actually close to my family, unlike Oliver. And they’ve always been good to me. Supportive. Present. It’s him they have sore feelings about. Speaking of…
“I’ve been thinking.” I put my bagel back into the bag. The paper crinkles again, loud in the quiet office. Hungry as I am, it’ll need to wait. “About my trip tomorrow.”
“I’ll miss you.” His smile warms me to my core and gives me the encouragement to go on. That look in his eyes, soft and genuine, like the thought of being apart actually hurts.
“You don’t have to miss me. What if you came with?”
Never mind. There it is. Him staring at me like I’ve gone insane. Like I just suggested we rob a bank or join the circus.
“I want them to get to know you again,” I hurry to explain, words tumbling over each other. “They’re so caught up in the past?—”
“I thought you hadn’t told them about me yet.”
I hesitate, shame sweeping over me. Heat crawls up my neck. “I haven’t.”
He studies me, and I can practically see him working through the logistics in his head. “And this would be… a surprise? You and I just show up at the lodge together?”
