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CHAPTER 33
Lilly
I wake the next day to Amy snoring next to me and a pounding tear- and wine-induced headache. I look at my phone to see that it is dead, and when I go to charge the battery, I remember my charger is in my suitcase, which is sitting in the trunk of Oliver’s car. And then the memories of the last twenty-four hours come pouring back in, along with another barrage of tears. With the knowledge that there is no way I can face a day at O’Brien/O’Ryan Real Estate today, I use Amy’s phone to call in sick and sink back under the covers and into unconscious bliss.
When I wake up again a couple of hours later, I see a note from Amy telling me she had to get home to get ready for her shift at the hospital and that she loves me and she will call me later. Thanks to my sick day, I now have the day to myself, so I lie back down in bed and think about what Amy said to me last night. Did I blow everything out of proportion? Do I owe Oliver the chance to tell his side of the story? While I ponder this, not sure what is reality and what is the product of my own insecurities, there is a knock at the door. That’s weird. No one other than Amy ever visits me. As I run a hand over my hair to tame it into a presentable form, I wobble to the front door and look out the peephole. Oliver. Just standing there looking as delectable as he always does. What is he doing here? Why isn’t he at work?
As I open the door, just a little bit, I poke my head out and get a better look at him. He is gorgeous, as always, but also tired and a bit rumpled. Very unlike the normal, always neat man I know and love.
“Can I come in?” he asks. I take a moment to stare at his ruffled hair and his tired eyes and finally stand aside, opening the door wider to let him in. Oliver gives me a grateful half smile and enters the apartment, wheeling in my suitcase behind him.
“I thought you would need this.” He gestures to the suitcase at his feet.
Still not saying anything, I grab the case and walk it into my room, giving myself the chance to find some equilibrium. I muster up the strength to face him and find out what he has to say to me and walk back to where I left him.
After clearing his throat, Oliver starts, “Amy mentioned you called in sick today. That’s why I knew you were here.”
I nod and walk into my small kitchen, knowing I need coffee to get through whatever this conversation will be.
“We need to talk,” Oliver says from right behind me, so close I can feel the heat of his body against my back. I take a deliberate step away from him, offering him a coffee, and get to work making two cups, happy to have something to keep my hands occupied.
“Lilly, can you stop and look at me?”
I know I am behaving childishly but cannot stop myself, so I continue to ignore his presence and delay what I believe will be the inevitable “let’s just stay friends” conversation.
“Lilly, I’m sorry,” he says finally.
At this, I stop and look at him. Really look at him. At this man I love so much it hurts. His deep-brown eyes have dark circles under them, like he, too, had a restless night, and his beautiful lips are turned down into a sad frown. He is hurting, and I want to help make it better for him, so I tell him what I think he wants to hear.
“It’s OK, Ol. I know we were just pretending this past weekend. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
Oliver looks like I have just sucker punched him, and after taking a breath, he goes to speak. I interrupt him before he can say anything further.
“You obviously have some unresolved feelings for Emma, which is natural given you just broke up, and I don’t want to hurt your relationship. I don’t want to be the reason you are ever unhappy.”
“But, Lilly, you’ve got it all wrong,” he says, cutting me off in an attempt to stem the flow of my rambling.
“I don’t think so,” I tell him with fake confidence. “You should be with Emma. You guys are perfect for each other. And me? Well, I’m always one minute away from disaster. Why would you want to deal with that on a regular basis?” I turn away so he won’t see my eyes fill with tears and pick up my cup, walking into the other room.
Oliver follows again, close behind me. “You don’t mean that, do you?”
“Sure I do,” I tell him in a voice that breaks halfway through. “You are the best person I know, and you deserve the best.”
“But, Lilly,” he says only for me to cut him off again.
“Ollie, you don’t need to make excuses or lie to make me feel better. It’s OK.”
Oliver opens his mouth to argue with me, and I shut it down again. I need for him to leave so I can fall apart in peace.
“Oliver, I need you to go now. As much as I always love having you around, right now you are the last person I want to see.” I look at him, pleading for him to understand that he cannot make this better, that at this moment, he is making me hurt too much.
Oliver must see the pain written on my face, as he takes a step towards me, stopping when he sees me retreat from him. He swallows hard, standing there for a moment, looking so lost that I almost give in and beg for him to “pick me, choose me, love me” à la Meredith Grey to Derek Shepherd. Before I can do any of this, he turns and walks to the door.
“Just so you know, this past weekend was not pretending for me,” he says, his back to me as he opens the door.
I can’t understand why he is saying this to me now. When we had the chance to spend the evening together yesterday, to talk about our relationship, and he instead chose to go and speak to Emma. Surely that meant he wanted to work things out with her? I didn’t get this all wrong, did I? Feeling flustered and confused by my tumultuous thoughts, I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “I think it is best we spend some time apart. I need some space to figure this all out.”
Oliver pauses in the act of opening the front door and turns to me. “If that is what you want, Lilly, then I will give you space. I will give you anything you want.” And with that, he walks out of the apartment, closing the door softly behind him. And I sink to the floor and cry, more confused and heartbroken than ever.
