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“I think that went well. Don’t you?” I ask.
He leans his head back and closes his eyes for a moment. “Things are moving in the right direction anyway.”
His words make me think he’s not wanting to count all his eggs yet. When we arrive at the building, we walk in together and onto the elevator riding up to our floor. He’s distracted again, so I give him space.
When we get to our floor, we exit the elevator, and I open the door to the condo to let us in, and I make my way to my bedroom. The first thing I want to do is get out of these shoes.
I’m halfway across the room when Oliver says, “Charlotte?”
I stop and turn to look at him. It reminds me of the night of Theo’s party, the way the moonlight casts an interesting shadow over his face. I remember his Zorro costume and thinking the mask was hiding a part of himself. The way the light and dark cross his face gives me that same impression. Like Oliver isn’t completely himself.
“Thank you for tonight. I know it’s all very strange, but I appreciate it.”
I’m not sure if it’s the need to reach out to him to save him from whatever is pulling him down, or maybe it’s just my own desire to be next to him, but I walk back toward him.
I press my hand over his chest as I look up at him. “Aside from the lying about getting married, I actually had a good time.”
One side of his mouth twitches up slightly. “How hard was it for you not to tell them how you think their profession is hurting women?”
“It took Herculean effort.”
He lets out a laugh, and for a moment, I feel like I have a glimpse into the real Oliver. The one who hasn’t erected walls or is trying to mask his demons.
“You are proof of what you say.”
I’m not sure what he’s telling me.
“Most of the women there, even the ones younger than you, had some sort of work done. As a doctor, I can see these things. And so can they. So they look at you, and they see a woman who is untouched by Botox and scalpels, and you’re still the most beautiful woman in the room.”
My breath stalls in my chest at his words. The intensity of his gaze as he looks at me is proof that he believes what he says, and it overwhelms my senses.
Just like after Theo’s party, Oliver's hand comes to my face, and his thumb brushes over my lower lip.
“I was going to kiss you the other night,” he says to me, as his gaze watches his thumb on my lip.
My response is a small hitch in my breath.
His eyes lift to my mine. “And if my phone pings a notification again, I’m not going to answer it. This time, unless you tell me not to, I'm going to follow through.”
He waits a beat, I suspect in case I say no. In reality, my brain is screaming “get on with it already”. My fingers grip the front of his shirt and tug him closer.
He takes the gesture to mean as I mean it. His head dips down and he fuses his lips to mine.
A whoosh of fire inflames me as his lips consume my own. Stephen and I had a good physical relationship, but never did I feel like I was going to spontaneously combust.
His tongue slides along the seam of my mouth and I open for him eagerly, wanting him to take the kiss deeper. His hand presses against my backside, pulling me against him. I feel his hard length and it ratchets up my desire.
He moans, and I’m about ready to pull him into my room, but he steps back. “I’m sorry.”
It takes me a moment to catch up.
“I promised I wouldn’t do that.”
I want to tell him that it’s okay. I’ve changed my mind, but I know he’s right. We were already in a complicated situation. It’s better to keep our real relationship simple and platonic.
“Thank you again, Charlotte, for this evening.”
“You’re welcome, Oliver.”
He turns and heads to his room. I watch him, wondering what ghosts are haunting him and wishing I could be the woman to help him exorcise them.
