Page 115 of The Truth of Us

At that revelation, I had to look away, blink back the tears that were suddenly threatening to fall. Without a word, my father was right next to me, wrapping me in a hug and kissing the top of my head.

"I need to finish a few things here," he said after a moment. "Oliver offered to drive you home."

I looked toward Oliver, and he was already watching us. He'd spent the entire evening watching me without making it obvious. Protecting me without making me feel protected.

"I can wait." I offered.

My father shook his head. "No." His eyes softened. "You've done enough performing for one evening."

I slipped my hand into his. "Are you okay?"

He smiled. “My daughter is finally by my side. What more could I want or need?” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "I'll be home soon." Then he added quietly, "And Harper?"

"Yes?"

"You don't have to be angry with yourself because seeing him hurt or that it made you remember what you felt for him was real."

My chest tightened because somehow he always knew. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. He squeezed my hand once and walked away. Leaving me standing in the middle of a ballroom that suddenly felt far too large.

The city lights blurred outside the window. Chicago looked different after midnight, softer, less demanding, and yet more alive all at the same time. For the first ten minutes of the drive, neither Oliver nor I spoke. He drove one-handed, his suit jacket discarded in the back seat, his tie loosened. The tattoos disappearing beneath the cuff of his shirt caught the glow of the passing streetlights.

Eventually, he sighed. "So."

I groaned. "No."

He laughed. "That's not very nice."

"You were going to ask me something." I felt like an angsty teenage girl all over again.

"I was." He said with a chuckle.

"No," I repeated.

His laughter filled the car. "I haven't even asked it yet."

"You don't have to." I offered.

We stopped at a red light. Oliver turned and looked at me. "You love him."

The words settled in the silence between us. I stared out the window as the light turned green. He drove, and I still didn't answer.

After another block, he said quietly, "That's not what I expected."

I laughed. "Which part?"

"The part where you didn't deny it."

My throat tightened. Because I wanted to. I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him that what I felt for Elliot had been chemistry, or lust, or loneliness. But I'd spent too much of my life lying to myself.

"I don't know what I feel."

Oliver smiled sadly. "That's fair."

We drove another few blocks, then he spoke again. "He loves you."

I turned toward him. "You don't know that."

He barked out a laugh. "Harper."