14. Nora
CHAPTER 14
NORA
T he soft hum of the fluorescent lights above provides a steady backdrop to the clack of my keyboard. Oliver’s office, usually bustling with activity and ringing phones, is now a quiet space where only the sound of our work fills the room. It’s getting late. The cleaning crew has already come and gone, their polite nods and the faint smell of lemon cleaner lingering in the hallways.
I try to focus on the contract in front of me, but I can’t help stealing glances at Oliver. He sits across his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration as he reviews a blueprint so intensely it’s like he’s willing it to perfection. Since our Saturday outing, there’s a change in him that’s both subtle and disarming. His shoulders seem less tense, his usual crisp demeanor softened around the edges.
Every so often, he looks up from his work, and his eyes meet mine. There’s warmth there, an ember that wasn’t present before. I quickly look away, feeling the familiar heat rise to my cheeks.
I tell myself it’s just the byproduct of spending too much time together, a trick of the dimming light. Yet, I can’t deny the way my pulse quickens or how I’m suddenly conscious of the loose strand of hair that’s escaped my bun.
“Are you sure you’re okay staying this late?” Oliver’s voice breaks the silence, unexpectedly gentle.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply, trying to sound nonchalant. “There’s a lot to get through.”
He nods, and for a moment we just sit there, acknowledging the shared burden of responsibility. I can’t stop thinking about how different he seems. Not the Oliver I remember from college, who was all ambition and drive, nor the Oliver I’ve been working with these past few weeks — distant and impenetrable. This Oliver is… human.
I want so badly to read into his lingering gazes, to believe they mean something more, but I know better. My crush on him, which has only blossomed since our impromptu day out, feels like a secret I’m keeping from both of us. And even though every rational part of me understands that he doesn’t share these feelings, a reckless hope whispers otherwise.
“Another coffee?” I offer, more to break the tension than anything else.
“Sure.” His smile is grateful and perfect.
I head to the small kitchenette in the corner of his office, my heart pounding a rhythm against my will. Oliver is friendly, yes, warmer even, but it’s not for me — not in the way I wish it would be. As I pour the steaming liquid into two mugs, I realize how dangerous this is, this dance of closeness without touch, of words heavy with things unsaid.
I return with the coffees, placing one in front of him, our fingers brushing ever so slightly. There’s that warmth again, in his touch, in his thank-you, and I retreat back to my side of the battlefield, armed only with my unrequited feelings and the foolish bravery of a girl who can’t help but dream.
Before I know it, I’m yawning. “Sorry,” I say, covering my mouth.
“Should we stop for the night?”
“No,” I quickly say. Even though he’s Oliver, he’s also Mr. Wolfe — my boss — and I want him to know I can keep up with whatever demands are thrown my way. “But how about a break?”
“You go ahead.” I catch his gaze dart to his laptop, see the line that forms between his eyebrows, and nearly feel his worry.
“Oliver, we’ve been at this for hours without stopping. We’re not robots.” I push back from my desk and stand, stretching my cramped muscles. “I’m going up to the rooftop for some air. You should come.”
There’s a hesitation, a flicker in his eyes that suggests he’s tempted, but then he masks it. “You go. I’ll catch up if I can.”
I shrug, pretending that I’m unaffected by his refusal, though a part of me had hoped he’d instantly agree. The office feels smaller when he’s not looking at me.
The elevator ride to the rooftop is quick since we’re already so close to the top of the building. When the doors open, I step out into another world. The city sprawls below, a canvas of lights and shadows, and the night air is a welcome reprieve from the stale office atmosphere.
I stand there for a few minutes, enjoying the view. When the elevator dings behind me, I smile to myself.
“Didn’t think you’d actually come.”
Oliver steps out, loosening his tie, an unreadable expression on his face. “I needed a break more than I thought.”
“First time up here?” I can’t hide my astonishment as he looks around.
“Yeah,” he admits, a sheepish grin crossing his features. “I really do live in my office, don’t I?”
His gaze meets mine, and there’s warmth there, the same warmth that’s been confusing me for days.
“Seems like it.” I laugh. “But look at what living in your office has gotten you — a view like this.”
He steps closer to the edge, gazing out over the city he’s helping shape. Despite our earlier disagreement, I feel a sense of camaraderie between us — two people who understand the sacrifices of ambition.
“Thanks for dragging me out here,” Oliver says after a moment, his voice softer now.
“Anytime,” I reply, meaning it.
We share a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from knowing someone for as long as we have. And for just a moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we’re on the brink of something more than late nights and coffee runs.
I step forward and lean against the cold metal railing, watching Oliver as he stares out at the sprawling cityscape. It’s strange to see him so still, so contemplative. He’s always been a whirlwind of action.
“Oliver,” I start, hesitant but curious. “Why do you keep pushing yourself like this? You’ve achieved more than anyone expected — more than you said you wanted back in college.” My breath forms little puffs in the cool air.
He turns to me, his eyes reflecting the twinkling city lights. “You know I grew up with nothing,” he begins, and there’s a vulnerability in his voice that catches me off guard. “Every day was a struggle for my family. College was my shot, and this…” He gestures vaguely at the buildings below us. “…this was the dream.”
“But you’ve made it, Oliver. You’re successful, respected… wealthy.” I watch him closely, trying to understand what drives him. “Can’t you stop working so hard now? Take a real break? A vacation?”
He lets out a humorless chuckle, looking back over the city. “It might look that way, but inside…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Inside, I’m still that kid from the wrong side of the tracks. The fear of losing everything, of going back to that life… It haunts me, Nora. I don’t think it’ll ever be enough.”
My heart aches for him, for the boy who worked relentlessly to outrun his past. I step closer, reaching out to touch his arm gently. “Look around you. Really look.”
I guide his gaze along the skyline, pointing to the gleaming towers with logos that I know are his doing. “You’ve built an empire. These are monuments to your hard work, to your vision. Most people spend their lives dreaming of achieving even a fraction of what you have.”
He’s silent for a long moment, taking in the sight. Finally, he exhales slowly, as if releasing a weight he’s been carrying on his shoulders. “I never really stop to look at it, you know? It’s always on to the next project, the next deal.”
“Maybe it’s time you did. Take stock of what you’ve accomplished. You deserve to acknowledge it, to celebrate it — not just push for the next big thing.”
He nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take a moment… to appreciate it all.” His eyes meet mine again, and there’s a glimmer of something new — a hint of peace, perhaps, or maybe just the beginning of acceptance.
And despite what’s happened between us, despite what I wish would happen, right now this is more than enough.