“Only when he’s in between projects,” she counters with a sweet smile. “The rest of the time, he’s out all day and the office doors are locked, or I’m working from home and our entire working relationship is via text.” She lifts the cat, placing her soft fur not so far from my nose. “She vomited on his leg today. It was glorious.”
I laugh and tickle Poopy’s chin. “Clever girl.”
ROUND FORTY-TWO
ROSE
Ollie is quiet throughout the drive home. Quiet as we pull into the driveway and his eyes scour the front of the house. Quiet as he slides out of his door, and instead of closing it and coming around to mine like he usually does, he takes my hand and tugs me across the cab.
For every silent moment that passes, my nerves grow.
He leads me across the lawn and up the steps, onto the porch, then through the front door and into a house chilled from being empty all day. The instant I cross the threshold, he closes and locks the door again, then he moves through the living room and pulls me along in his wake so he can, one-handed, relight the fire. Because even in spring, some days in Plainview come with an icy chill in the air.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt fear when there was nothing blatantly fearful in front of me. But I feel it tonight as Ollie’s head swivels around the room. His refusal to leave me alone. Worse, when he uncharacteristically closes the blinds.
“I’m going to explode if you don’t say something soon.” I whip my hand from his, surprising his blue-eyed gaze back to mine, then I set Poppy on the couch and go to work peeling my blazer off. “You were fine, and then you weren’t. You took a phone call, and now everything feels different.”
“Everything’s fine.” He snags my hand again and leads me into the kitchen. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Yeah? Well, my unstable trauma brain means I’m apt to assume the person who called was your formerthe one. She’s the one who got away,and now she’s back to be with you forever. But you’re too much of a gentleman to tell me you’re tired of me, so you’ll bethis.” I stop in the middle of the kitchen and pull my hand from his, gesturing up and down. “This robot. You’ll still let me stay here, and you’ll still feed me and love me. But it’s out of obligation now, and not because you think I’mthe one.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Like I said! Trauma brain, emotional instability, unhealthy attachment behaviors, yada yada yada. So even if I know I sound ridiculous and whiny and dumb, my trauma brain throws rationality out the window and taunts me with this other bullshit. You’re quiet and stressed and refuse to talk, whichobviouslymeans something is wrong. And since you won’t tell me what’s wrong, it makes perfect sense that I wouldjump the shark andallthe other available conclusions and land onthis. Is her name Giselle? Is she a supermodel and amazing and all the things I’m not? Because I won’t lie, I’ve already decided what she looks like in my brain, and it’s hurting my feelings.”
So sweet, so fucking perfect, his eyes soften and his lips quiver. Then he wanders back my way and wraps his hand around the back of my neck, tugging me in and slamming me against his broad, strong chest. “I’ve never even met, let alone dated, anyone named Giselle. I couldn’t possibly be attracted to anyone else, not even a supermodel, because I believe with my whole fucking heart and soul that you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet. And since we both need to hear it right now,” he pulls back and looks down into my eyes, “you’re mythe one, Rose. You’re who I would share a door with in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean, and though I’d like to say I would float in the water and let you have the door all to yourself, there’s no fucking chance I actually would. BecausethatRose was left all alone in the world. Made to save herself. And I have no intention of leaving you.” He draws me to the tips of my toes and lays a sweet, closed-mouth kiss on my lips. “I’m stressed, but it’s not because Giselle came back into my life. And I’m worried about telling you what I’m stressed about, because I don’t want to upset you.”
“But there’s something?” My eyes itch and burn, my vision turning glassy. “Something happened, and telling me will scare me?”
“I don’t know. I hope it doesn’t.” He settles another kiss on my lips, slow and lingering. Achingly perfect, and softly sweet. Then he pulls away, but he leads me toward the counter, placing me on my stool and finally, releasing me and taking up his position on the other side. He flicks the oven on, preheating it for whatever he’s planning for dinner, then he rolls his sleeves up and pumps soap into his hands. “Cliff called me just before at the hospital. That call you saw me take.”
“Cliff? Is he firing me? Did I do something wrong? Is he letting me go because I didn’t agree to the gym tonight or someth?—”
“Jesus.” He slaps the tap off and dries his hands on a cloth. “No, Rose. He’s not firing you. He’s not mad at you. You did nothing wrong.”
“So then…” I frown. “What?”
He leans onto the counter, resting on his elbows, and chews on the inside of his lips. His blue-eyed stare is enough to make me want to weep. To scream and cry and punch a pillow, if only it could help me work through the anxiety filling my belly.
“What?” I groan. “Please tell me.”
“There was a guy at the office this afternoon just as you were leaving. Cliff said you were looking at him, and he was looking at you.”
“Are you mad I was looking? Like…looking? It wasn’t an attraction thing, and I wasn’t checking him out. It was?—”
He reaches across the counter and lays his hand over mine. “No one is saying you did anything wrong. You need to stop assuming you’re a fuck up, babe. Cliff was getting weird vibes from the guy, and he thought maybe you felt weird about him, too. Like maybe you recognized him somewhere in the back of your memories, the ones you can’t quite access yet, and after you left, Cliff said the guy was asking about you.”
“He…” Swallowing, I drag my hand out from beneath his and straighten my back. “Oh. Okay.”
“Cliff doesn’t look for trouble, he’s not a gossip, and he isn’t the type to read into things that aren’t there. So if he feels like something was weird, then it was probably weird. But at the same time, he doesn’t wanna upset you. So he called to run it by me.”
I glance left at the soft scuffling, whining meow of a baby kitten wanting her human. Poppy stands on her hind legs beside my stool, her front legs stretched high, so I lean over and scoop her up. “I mean… I guess I looked for a while. It’s possible he could be familiar. But I look atallthe people who come in, just in case. Did Cliff tell you that, at least once a week, someone comes into the showroom and tells me they saw me on the news?”
He presses his lips closed, nodding.
“And that people still think calling in tips will get them a cash reward, even though we have never,eversaid there was a reward for information?”
Still, he nods.
