“Of course, and for the lady?” he asks, turning to me.
“I’ll have a small glass of Rosé please.”
Olly takes my hand. “Can we have a bottle?” he asks.
Once the waiter is out of earshot, I lean closer to Olly. “I didn’t need a whole bottle.”
“I’m treating my girl. You don’t have to drink it all, but I want you to let your hair down,” he says, wrapping his finger around some of the hair hanging over my shoulder.
“The view and the glass of champagne was perfect. We could have had a drive-thru, and it would have been enough.”
He sighs. “I know, but I wanted to do this. Let me spoil you for a change. Everything you do is for Molly, but you deserve to be treated like a princess, too.” His words are sincere.
“I guess,” I reply, biting my lower lip. It’s hard not to think this is money wasted.
“Please—let go for tonight. This isn’t about the cost; it’s about making memories.”
“Okay,” I reply. I don’t want him to think I’m not grateful for the effort and more importantly, the thought he’s put into this. “Thank you,” I say on a whisper and kiss the corner of his upturned lip.
I could see how exhausted he was when we returned to his. I gave him a back massage, and it wasn’t long before he succumbed to sleep. I’ve been tossing and turning for a few hours now. Marcus and his behaviour are becoming more volatile, and I’m struggling to reconcile the man with the boy I grew up with. It breaks my heart for Molly.
Olly stirs beside me. On other occasions, I’ve woken to him thrashing around, mumbling, having some kind of bad dream but then they subside. But tonight, his mumbles are louder than I’ve ever heard him and a cry breaks free from his lips. He jerks awake, sitting upright.
He blinks, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. I reach for his hand. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
He turns his head towards me. The room is coated in darkness but I can still see his tortured face. His hand trembles as he pulls mine to his lips then kisses my palm. “A bad dream. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I tug on his wrist, pull him down beside me. He lays facing me, our hands entwined between us. “You didn’t.” He leans in and kisses the tip of my nose. “Do you always have nightmares?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, they come and go. I can have months without a single one and then have a week where they are consecutive.”
I pull his hand closer to my chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, that’s what I have counselling for.”
His words sting, and I pull back. He notices, makes up the distance. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like a jerk.” He lets go of my hand to trail his fingers over my upper thigh, pulling my leg over his.
“It’s okay, but I’m a good listener. I want to know about you, Olly—the good and the bad.”
His teeth show when he smiles, and I can’t help but mirror him. “I’m beginning to learn there are a lot of things you’re good at.”
I know he’s trying to deflect. “I was trying to have a moment with you then,” I say, trying not to sound too defensive.
His fingers trail over my skin softly. “I don’t mean to hurt you, Princess. I worry something I say or do will ruin it. I’ve just never had this kind of connection with someone before.” He pulls my centre into him, and I try to ignore the want that builds at my core.
“And what kind of connection would that be?” I ask. I already know our physical connection is undeniable.
“One where I never want to let you go.”
I gasp, and before I can utter a response, his lips are on mine—demanding, seeking, pleading.
I open up to him, allow his words to settle over me like a comfort blanket. But what if it frays? Would he fight for me? If push came to shove, would he choose Molly and me?
His lips lift from mine enough for him to speak. “Don’t. Don’t do that.” He caresses my cheek.
“Do what?”
“Question my sincerity.”
