The intercom sounds and I groan. If it’s the neighbour’s kids again, I’ll be pissed. They keep playing buzz down fucking ginger. I wouldn’t mind, but Molly is in bed.
I jump up and rush to pick up the handset. “Hello?”
“Rachel, it’s me.”
“Olly?”
“The one and only,” he replies, but he sounds off.
“Buzzing you up.”
Weird. He usually texts before stopping by. Fuck, I hope everything is all right.
I open the door and cross my arms as I wait. When he comes round the top of the stairs, I smile, but it drops when I notice his unease. “Is everything okay? What’s wrong?” I ask, stepping into the hallway.
He takes my hand and leads me inside, closing the door behind him.
“Oliver?”
He smiles when he turns to face me, crowding me against the coats hanging on coat pegs. “Everything is fine,” he says, pulling me into his arms, and I let out a sigh of relief. He leans down and kisses me, slow and deliberate enough for me to almost forget my name. It’s only when something heavy hits my leg that I peer down at the bag in his hand.
I quirk an eyebrow, and he tilts his head. “Let’s go sit in the living room,” he suggests, and I nod. His fingers lace with mine as we head to the sofa, and I smile—I love how he touches me.
“Okay, I’m going to get straight to the point, and I don’t want you to be mad or freak out.”
I tense. “What? Why would I get mad? And you say you don’t want me to freak out, but now I’m freaking out,” I rush, not even sure if I’m making any sense.
He places the bag on my lap. I peer down at it, then back to his face. “Did you buy me something?”
Shaking his head, he squirms in his seat—something I’ve never seen him do before. “Not exactly, just open it, please,” he says quietly.
I reach into the bag and pull out a box—a familiar box.
My eyes shoot to his face and then back down to my shaking hands. I’m completely thrown.
I lift the lid and gasp—my watch. I don’t even need to take it out to know it’s mine.
My lips tremble—they actually fuckingquiver—as I pull it from its padding. I slip it over my wrist and clip it in place, giving it a shake to adjust the weight.
“I don’t understand.” I keep my eyes on the strap and finger the links—afraid if I look at him, I’ll cry.
“I found the receipt in your drawer the other week and put two and two together when you mentioned it was in the shop.” He hooks his finger under my chin, lifting my face until his eyes lock with mine. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you being without it, and I know if I offered to get it back, you’d refuse.”
I bite my lip. He’s right, I probably would have.
“Are you mad?”
Somehow, I find my voice and shake my head. “No, I’m kind of speechless, to be honest.”
He smiles. “In a good or bad way?” he asks, all confidence missing.
“Good, I think.” And it’s the truth. I’m blown away. Hedid thisfor me. “I can’t believe you would do this. I’ll pay you back,” I add as an afterthought.
Olly looks to the ceiling and then back to me. “I wouldn’t have expected you’d have it any other way.” He cups my cheek, and when his eyes pierce mine, my entire world tilts.
“I can’t believe you’d do this for me,” I say again, my voice raspy.
“Well, believe it,” he replies, wiping the tears from under my eyes.
