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“Sorry, I forgot to text you back.”
His exhale almost sounds like a laugh, but I can’t tell for sure.
There’s a pause where we’re both silent. I stare up at my ceiling, picturing him doing the same. He must live in some big, fancy building.
It should feel strange, lying here listening to him breathe, but it’s not. It’s surprisingly…nice.
“You called me,” Oliver says eventually. He doesn’t sound mad about it, more curious.
“My family knows we’re married.”
Another long pause, this one neither peaceful nor comfortable.
“You told them?”
“Not exactly. My dad accidentally found out. He told my mom; my mom told my siblings.”
“You have siblings?”
“Uh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “Two. A brother and a sister.”
“Huh. I figured you were an only child.”
“Is that an insult?”
“No. Just an observation.” He pauses. “I have a brother.”
I laugh, caught off guard by his dry comment. Oliver’s sense of humor is…unexpected, I guess.
“Sorry for waking you up. I’ll, uh, good night.”
I’m a coward. I should just ask him about this weekend and listen to hisNo, like tearing a Band-Aid off.
But that will ruin this conversation, this quiet moment where it just feels like I’m a girl talking to a guy who gives me butterflies. I can feel them fluttering in my stomach, probably vodka-soaked.
“Is everything okay, Hannah?” His voice has changed. It dips, so it’s a little softer. Almost caring.
“Everything’s fine. Bye.”
I hang up before he can say anything else, rolling over and burying my face in the couch cushions.
CHAPTERTWELVE
OLIVER
I’m expecting my office to be empty when I walk in, like it is every morning. There weren’t lights on in a single office I just passed.
But my office isnotempty.
“Finally.” Scarlett rolls her eyes, crossing her legs. She’s tilted one of the chairs that normally faces my desk so it’s aimed at the window instead, turned toward the sunrise.
I blink at her, wondering if I walked into the wrong office somehow. Last night was the worst sleep I’ve had in a while, so it’s possible I turned right instead of left. But a quick glance at my desk confirms I’m in the right place.
I walk over to my chair and set my briefcase on the desk.
“What are you doing here?”
She ignores my question, standing and walking over to my bookcase. Her nails are painted the same crimson shade as her lips, contrasted against the black leather spines as she skims them. “I couldn’t find any legal pads. Do you have a secret office supplies stash somewhere?”
