Page 88 of The Truth of Us

“I mean the city, your home base… unless you plan on changing that.”

I looked at him.

“I’ve been considering opening a nonprofit branch there,” he said. “Or something adjacent to what I already do. Community programs. Youth support. Housing resources. Maybe scholarships tied to mental health access.”

My interest sharpened before I could stop it. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” he replied, and then took a small sip of his wine.

“Why Chicago?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He shrugged. “Need. Connections. Opportunity.” Then his eyes held mine. “And maybe because someone I care about spends her time there.”

My stomach fluttered. Just enough to remind me I was alive.

“Oliver.”

“I’m not proposing.”

I choked on a laugh. “Good to know.”

“I’m not even pushing or asking for anything.” He leaned forward slightly. “I know you’re not in a place to start something. I’m not asking you to be.”

The honesty of it made my throat tighten. “Then what are you asking?”

His gaze softened. “Time.” I stared at him. “I would love to spend time with you,” he said. “Get to know you as who you are now, not only who I remember.”

My heart gave a small, painful squeeze.

He continued, voice quieter. “I miss the girl I grew up with.” I looked down, but he continued. “But I would really like to know the woman she became.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Because there was a glaring difference. Elliot had wanted access to the woman who fit beside him. Oliver was asking to know the woman I actually was. No contract, no deadline, nor terms. Just time with me.

And maybe that wasn’t a fair comparison, but I wasn't feeling all that fair about how things ended with Elliot. The thought of him made my chest squeeze painfully.

“I don’t know what I can give you,” I admitted.

“That’s okay,” Oliver said softly.

“It might not be fair,” I added.

“Probably not.”

“You’re terrible at self-preservation.”

He barked out a laugh. “My mother says the same thing.”

“I’m serious,” I emphasized.

“So am I.” His smile softened again. “I’m not asking you to promise me anything, Harper.”

I looked toward the window. Outside, snow drifted past the glass.

When Margot returned, she looked between us and immediately smiled like a woman who had accomplished exactly what she had come to do. I rolled my eyes, and Oliver laughed.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was waiting for my life to start again.

It already has. Quietly. Softly. With new nail polish, shorter hair, a ridiculous hat, and a man across the table who looked at me like he wasn’t afraid of the parts of me I hadn’t figured out yet.