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Usually, at least.
Today was not a usual day. No, no. Usually couldn’t be used to describe my life for quite a while now, but especially so in the days after I got back from London. There was a subtle haze over everything in my life. And it all seemed to focus in on the letter that I still couldn’t bring myself to open. The pale white envelope was still sealed tight with my name scrawled across the center in what could only be my father’s handwriting.
But here’s the kicker: Even if I wanted to open it, that wasn’t a possibility anymore. It hadn’t been for the past week
Ever since I lost the damn thing.
I sat in my chair, feeling the weight of my mistake fall hard on my shoulders. Why was I such a twat? I should have just opened the letter as soon as it was handed to me. It could have been handled right there and then. Instead, I couldn’t find it anywhere, even after turning my home and my office upside down and inside out.
Funny how much I cared about the letter after it was gone.
The afternoon sunlight broke through the open window behind me and flooded my office in light. It must have been a half an hour that I sat there, racking my brain for any clues as to where I had put it.
A knock on my door threw me out of my thoughts.
“Come in,” I said.
Instantly, I felt like the floor underneath me had given way. Like I started to free-fall out of nowhere.
“Holy shit.”
“Bloody hell,” I said, my eyes wide, my heart suddenly picking up its pace.
“You two, uh, know each other?” Holly’s tone sounded as surprised as I felt.
I nod. “We’ve met before. Back in London. This is… this is so crazy.”
“Crazy,” he said, echoing me, his face reading the same astonishment I was feeling. It felt like I’d laid eyes on a ghost, which, if I’m being technical, he did ghost me. I had texted him. Even called. Then I felt like a fool when I realized the number was sending me to a pizza store that also doubled as an arcade from what the owner told me over the phone.
It sucked, but it was just another dose of rejection to down. The bitter medicine life enjoyed to administer on occasion, just to keep you alive and on your toes. I wasn’t going to hold it against the guy. I’d still help with whatever issue he had.
Holly clapped her hands. We both snapped to, neither of us realizing it had fallen very quiet inside my office.
“All right, well, Beck, you can take Olly’s case, right? I think Angel might have an opening if you’re busy.”
“I can take it. Thank you, Holly.”
She gave a tiny bow and left the office. I could have sworn I heard a couple of giggles trail behind her as she left.
“This is, uh, quite a surprise.” Olly scanned the office as if he were doing anything to avoid my gaze.
Good. It gave me time to look him over, admire the sight I’d been missing. Even though he’d rejected me, I still couldn’t deny that the guy was the embodiment of my sex dreams. And today was no different. He was wearing white shorts that showed off plenty of sexy leg, reminding me of how good they’d felt wrapped around my waist.
“I can’t believe it. Three weeks and you randomly walk into my office. Or, did you know I work here?”
“No, I had no idea.” His eyes settled on mine for a moment before flitting off, further examining the office. “Which is insane, considering you work with my brother.”
“Excuse me, what?”
“My brother. Jonah Brightly.”
“You’re fuckin’ kidding me. Jonah’s your brother? You’re Oliver?”
“Olly, yup.” He was smiling, nodding.
“I can’t… now it makes sense. I thought there was something about you that reminded me of him. And now I remember talking to him months ago, when he told me his little brother was visiting London. I gave him the name of the pub I used to go to as a kid, the one in Kingston.”
“The one I showed up at…”
I nodded, the temperature in my office suddenly feeling ten degrees hotter. The windows were closed and the AC was working just fine. Had to be heat rising from the space between us.
But he never even called. Never sent a text. He had given me the wrong bloody number. That heat is all one-sided.
The reminder was like a bucket of ice dumped over my head. “So what brings you to Stonewall Investigations, Oliver Brightly?” My question cut through the fantasy of the moment. The odds of all this happening were slim to none, and if I were any kind of romantic, I would think fate was toying with us two.
But the romance inside me had wilted away years ago.
