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“Absolutely,” she replies, looking at where Oliver is making his way over to me. “And who knows? Maybe yours will be the next wedding I am invited to.” And with that little bombshell, she gives me another hug and waves goodbye to Oliver as she races out the front door.
“You ready to go, Lil?” Oliver asks, taking my hand in his like it is the most natural thing for him to do.
I look at him and then at our joined hands and take a deep breath. “Yep, you lead, and I will follow.”
CHAPTER 31
Lilly
As I settle into Oliver’s car, I have a mental conversation as to ways of bringing up the topic of the kisses and what it could all mean. It should be a straightforward conversation: “Oliver, we kissed. I love you. Can we get married now?” However, it is proving to be difficult to broach. What if Oliver was just swept up in the moment? What if he intends for us to return to just friends now that the weekend is over? With so many what ifs swirling around my head, I am paralysed into saying nothing. Hoping Oliver will take the lead, I sit in silence, staring out of the window, watching the world go by.
A few minutes into the drive, Oliver leans over and takes my hand. He holds it in his, resting both our hands on my thigh as he continues to watch the road ahead. I smile at this gesture, thinking this is Oliver’s way of letting me know that the pretend portion of the weekend has finished and he is still in this with me, and I relax into my seat. Maybe we aren’t ready for the important conversation yet, but sometimes actions speak louder than words.
At some point, I must fall asleep, because before I know it, we are approaching Oliver’s house. As I wake up, I feel a bit confused, wondering why Oliver has driven us here and not to my apartment, and I look at him with raised eyebrows.
“I’m not ready for the weekend to end yet,” he tells me simply. “I thought maybe you would want to spend the evening with me. We can get some dinner and talk?” Oliver looks a little unsure of himself, and my heart squeezes at his display of vulnerability.
“That sounds perfect,” I tell him. “I’m not ready for this weekend to be over either.”
Oliver grins at me and focuses back on the road, taking the last few turns to get us home. As we approach the driveway, I have butterflies in my stomach, equal parts thrilled and nervous at the thought of the evening ahead. Maybe Oliver and I can sort out our relationship status now, once and for all. Oliver parks the car in the garage and gets out, rounding the car to open my door. I take his offered hand and step out of the car, my whole body warmed by his display of public affection. As we walk towards the front door, a familiar figure is pacing up and down the porch area. Emma. No, this cannot be. What is she doing here?
As she hears us approach, her head jerks towards us, her gaze zeroing in on our joined hands. Oliver, looking at Emma and then me, drops my hand and steps towards her.
“Emma? What are you doing here?” he asks in a strained voice.
“We need to talk. In private,” Emma adds, looking at me.
As I stare at Oliver, willing him to tell her to go and ask me to stay, I am blindsided when he hesitates and looks at me. Is he really going to leave me and go to her? After everything we experienced together this weekend? The thought of Oliver going back to the perfect Emma causes a sharp pain in my chest. I reach up to absently rub it as I silently will him to not do this. I need him to use this opportunity to make me feel like I am the one for him.
I watch in disbelief as Oliver takes two steps away from me towards Emma, and I know the choice has been made. He is going back to the girl I know he is supposed to be with, and I will go back to being the girl he could never love that way. The pain in my chest builds as I take a step away from him, looking in my bag for my phone, now desperate to call an Uber or a friend or anyone to get me out of here. I finally find my phone, and I have ten missed calls from Amy, as well as a dozen text messages, all warning me that Emma is waiting and telling me to not return home. Too late now, Amy, I think to myself. As this is going on, I see out the corner of my eye that Oliver has inched closer to Emma, moving the two of them away from me, further cementing in my mind that his choice is made. Am I overreacting? Possibly, but after the kisses we just shared, my heart is too vulnerable to deal with any sort of rejection. Even more desperate now to get away, I call Amy and tell her to come outside and rescue me.
“You are outside?” Amy yells into the phone in place of the traditional hello.
“Yes, come and get me out of here,” I whisper, pleading with her.
In no time at all, hurricane Amy is rushing out of the house, shooting Emma and Oliver a dirty look as she runs past them. As she reaches me, she gives me a side hug, muttering under her breath, “What on earth happened here?”
“I can’t get into it now,” I tell her, trying to convey a sense of urgency with my voice. “Please get me out of here.” I feel the sting of tears in my eyes and try to hold myself together. Oliver and Emma do not get to see me fall apart.
I look up to see Oliver looking at me with a pained expression, all flustered and confused, yet he still doesn’t make a move towards me to stop me from leaving. Unable to continue to watch what is happening in front of my eyes, in a sharp motion, I turn away from him and follow Amy to her car.
Amy, being less tactful than me, turns to Oliver and says, a warning in her tone, “We will talk about this later.”
After I get into Amy’s car, I sink into the seat and cannot look at Oliver as tears begin to fall. Amy shoots me a worried look and speeds out of the driveway. I turn to look back one more time, and Oliver is watching us drive away before he walks back towards Emma. After seeing this, I feel what little is left of my control slip away, and I start to sob. Amy, who is driving like a Formula One driver on race day in her attempt to hasten my escape, looks at me again and curses Oliver under her breath.
“What happened this weekend, Lil?” she asks at last, breaking the silence.
As I think back on how perfect the weekend was, hangover and all, I cry harder. How could I have been so stupid to think that Oliver has genuine feelings for me? He is clearly still in love with his ex-girlfriend, the perfect Emma, and I am just foolish enough to get caught up in the fantasy of it all.
“I’ll tell you when we get to my place,” I say through my tears. “I need wine and cupcakes to get through this story.”
Amy nods, her face filled with sympathy. “Whatever has happened, Lil, we can fix it.”
I shake my head at Amy and think to myself, There is no fixing this.
Once we arrive at my apartment and have both snuggled into the comfort of my couch, I pull a blanket up to my chin and attempt to stop crying. Amy, looking worried, has poured some wine, grabbed some tissues, and put a plate of cupcakes in front of us.
“Are you ready to tell me what happened?” Amy asks.
