Page 100 of The Truth of Us

"I don't know," I answered honestly.

Oliver nodded. "I don't think it's an accident."

That thought followed me for the rest of the flight.

The townhouse was exactly as I'd left it. Thomas greeted me with a look that somehow communicated relief, affection, and I told you you'd come home, eventually.

"Miss Montgomery."

I guess someone got the memo. I smiled and replied, "Thomas."

"You cut your hair."

I smiled. "I did."

"It suits you."

"Thank you."

He hesitated, but then said, "Welcome home."

The words shouldn't have affected me as much as they did. But they did. Because I wasn’t sure if this place felt like home anymore. Not after everything.

That night, after everyone left, I walked through the townhouse alone. Every inch meticulously curated to feel elevated and polished… Perfect. I trailed my hands along the polished marble in the kitchen, letting my eyes dance over the items in my living room. Then my office, and lastly my bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my phone. Should I call him?

The thought appeared so suddenly that I rubbed the ache in my chest. I wasn’t considering calling him, because I wanted him back. Just because we would eventually see each other. Chicago wasn't that big. Our world definitely wasn't, and maybe I didn't want the next time to feel like the last one. But the thought of hearing his voice… The words he used to cut me down when I last saw him had me turning off my phone and going to bed.

Three days later, I found myself back at yoga for the first time since I left Chicago. It was a mistake. The room smelled of eucalyptus and expensive self-improvement. I spent forty minutes discovering muscles I had apparently abandoned years and not weeks ago. By the time the instructor cheerfully announced our final poses, I was considering faking my death.

I shifted into position. Stretched. Breathed. And suddenly remembered Elliot.

The memory was stupid, not even a significant one. Just Elliot lying on his stomach in his bed one morning while watching me stretch. His expression had gone from appreciation to something more dangerous.

"You should warn people you can do that."

I laughed. "Do what?"

"Fold."

The way he'd said it, the look on his face, the promise in his voice…

My concentration broke, and I nearly fell over.

"Excellent work, everyone," the instructor chirped.

I think I might hate her.

When I finally extracted myself from the overly perky instructor, Oliver was waiting outside. He stood leaning against the building; his eyes found me immediately.

"Jesus Harper."

I stopped. "What?"

He gestured vaguely. "I never knew you could fold like that; you're very bendy."

My stomach dropped because I heard him say, “That’s right, baby; you like it when I fold you in half and fuck you so hard no one else will ever measure up.”

Oliver immediately noticed, “What is that pretty blush for Harper?”