Chapter 13
Partway through the day, Finn popped his head into the study, inviting Oliver to join us for dinner. I could tell by Finn’s expression, his intentions were more meddlesome than polite.
Still, I almost fell over when Oliver accepted the invitation.
This was going to be awkward.
Rue whipped something together with only a hot plate—better than most could with a stove. The small card table that typically sat in the kitchen was set up on the patio, with place settings for four, the sun setting behind us. Elegant, despite the plastic utensils and paper plates.
“I am salivating. How in the world did you hire a Michelin chef? What kind of wine are we having?” Finn stopped, staring as Oliver lumbered out onto the patio.
“I think it’s a rosé.” I swooped in, uncorking the bottle, and pouring four generous plastic cups, taking a sip of mine while plopping into my chair.
“Have a seat, Oliver. It’s time we have a talk.” Sebastian was never subtle.
I had to give Oliver credit—he didn’t even blink, just sat as we passed around the food.
Plates piled high, Sebastian held off as the rest of us dived in. “So, I’m curious. You have an actual person made of sunshine and joy living in your house, and you somehow were compelled to be cruel to her. Care to explain yourself?”
“Sebastian,” I begged, sliding down in my chair.
“Oh no, I think it deserves an answer, don’t you?” His glare was set entirely on Oliver.
All Finn and I could do was blink at this showdown.
“You’re right.” Oliver’s fingers curled around the edge of the table.
“Come again?” I blurted out at Oliver’s admission.
“I told you earlier, you didn’t deserve my behavior.” Knees bouncing, Oliver stared at his plate.
It was the closest I was going to get to an apology. “I thought you were huffing fumes from the wallpaper.”
Finn giggled, which Sebastian didn’t appreciate. “I’m curious why you would even stay here. You’ve done enough damage. Let Bell work in peace.”
“Sebastian.” I bristled. “He’s overseeing the project, and this is his house. You can’t …” My mind blanked on any other word. “Banish him.”
“Yeah, that would be a terrible thing to do,” Oliver deadpanned.
It was the worst possible moment for him to crack a joke. My gaze caught his, a single eyebrow raising, and to Sebastian’s horror, we broke into laughter.
“I mean, really, what kind of jerk banishes a person?” I giggled.
Oliver’s thighs spread close enough to touch his knee to mine. My breath shifted from a laugh to something else stirring in my chest. Friendship had never brought electricity to my veins.
“Well, if you are going to stay here with our Bell, it’s time we learn about you.” Finn’s grin had an edge to it.
“What do you want to know?”
“Favorite movie?”
There was no holding back my snort as Oliver pretended to glare at me.
“I don’t watch much TV.”
Finn gasped. “What do you two even talk about? TV and films fill all the lonely parts of her.”
“Darling, I don’t think you meant to say that last part,” Sebastian gritted out as I sank further into my chair. Any lower, and I’d be hiding under the table.
“Watching TV isn’t a sign of loneliness.” Oliver’s pinky brushed mine, causing me to take another gulp of wine with my other hand.
“No, but a beard like that might be.” Sebastian smirked.
“I don’t think he’s had anyone to tell him that. For the past few years, he’s only lived with people who call him ‘sir.’” I pressed my glass to my lips. Despite its wildness, the beard was growing on me.
“Kinky,” Finn quipped.
“My programming requires me to refer to Oliver Killington as ‘sir,’” Bl8z3 offered.
Sebastian and Finn jumped in their seats.
“Is that the …?” Sebastian whispered, eyes wild, drifting across every surface. I nodded as Sebastian pointed to the ceiling. “How do you get used to it?”
All I could do was shrug. Somewhere along the way, it had become normal for Bl8z3 to speak up.
Sebastian’s eyes kept shooting up to the ceiling before resting on Oliver. “Stop making her doubt herself. Bells deserves to see herself the way the world does, and to accept how absolutely spectacular she is, a source of blinding sunshine.”
My eyes filled with tears as I considered my best friend. “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
His foot kicked at mine under the table. “You get what I’m saying.”
“Yeah.” I sniffled. “Can we eat now? I’m hungry.”
“Fine, but Oliver, tell me who your team is.”
I held my breath, wondering if this was too far. If Oliver had pushed away all the happy memories of his family, thinking about football had to hurt in its own way.
“College or NFL?” Oliver’s palms moved to his thighs, sliding back and forth, slowly, my heart pounding in time with his movements.
“Either.” Sebastian shrugged, voice conveying that this mattered.
“I’ll be honest: it’s been a while since I’ve watched.” Oliver sipped from his cup.
I held my breath. Would anyone notice if I got up and went to find some gummy bears? Maybe hide out in the kitchen for a while?
“But I was always a fan of LSU,” Oliver confessed.
Sebastian popped a fry into his mouth. “Well, decent people can still make bad choices.” His eyes filled with mirth, as a weight lifted from my chest. “All right.” Sebastian leaned forward. “Do you know anything about the new technology your family’s company is planning on investing in? Because I have some theories, and if you maybe blink when I say something that sounds correct—”
I coughed loudly. “Insider trading.”
Oliver’s foot nudged mine.
And with that, my accidental roommate became a tentative accidental friend with mine.
Long after we finished eating and opened a second bottle of wine, I watched Oliver interact with my favorite people. Sebastian laughed, full-throated laughed, at something Oliver said while Finn ensured our Solo cups remained full. I rubbed my knuckle at the emotion building in my chest.
It seemed impossible, the intersection of these two worlds, but here it was, seamless, easy. Not that it mattered when I’d be leaving in a matter of months.
120 Days Until the Deadline
I returned from the kitchen with a glass of water and some of Rue’s cookies, to discover an argyle sock hanging off my bedroom door handle. A sock. Like we were still in college.
I should have realized something was up when Sebastian asked me to grab him a snack from downstairs. The way he shoved me out the door as Finn nodded aggressively.
We were adults now, with our own bedrooms and doors. I was more than delighted to give them alone time. Finn’s mural was a beautiful burst of colors, abstract, a variety of flowers practically exploding from the wall. It was going to be a statement when it was finished—he had outdone himself, making me even more appreciative they were here. Except when they were in my bedroom.
I smacked my palm on the wood, hoping I was interrupting a particularly intimate moment.
“Ten minutes,” Sebastian called out.
“Thirty,” corrected Finn.
I gave the door another smack before plodding down the stairs, grumbling to myself. “You’re up at least, Bl8z3?”
I was met with silence, only proving the point that it was time for me to be in bed.
I dug around the barebones kitchen, brewing myself a cup of chamomile tea. Setting the kettle on the table, I dipped my tea bag, relaxing into the routine.
Sebastian and Finn’s relationship was something that made me happy to witness. But it was also a glaring spotlight on what my life was missing. What Dan had pointed out I would always be lacking.
And maybe, just maybe, I was horny. I wouldn’t mind having a reason to put a sock on the door. I knew they wouldn’t lock me out the entire night, at least not on purpose, but—
“Couldn’t sleep either?” Oliver stood at the entrance to the kitchen, fists stuffed into his pajama bottoms.
His hair was loose, landing at his shoulders in disarray, as if he had just run his fingers through it.
But what had me staring, struggling to swallow, was his beard. Oliver was still the bearded hulking man I had become used to, but it was no longer unruly—now it was trimmed close to his face, the edges straightened. The cheekbones I had only seen hints of before were prominent. The mystery of where Sebastian had disappeared to today suddenly revealed itself.
“Your beard …” I was gawking, but unable to stop.
He shifted his stance, hand moving to stroke it, but coming up empty. “Is it okay?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t shave it off.” It was a fresh start, another change, like the house around us, though he had been frozen even deeper in the past.
“Not a beard fan?” An eyebrow quirked up.
“I didn’t say that.” My response was too quick, too telling. My heart, on red alert, beat rapidly in my chest.
I couldn’t stop staring. There were those lips I had kissed, no longer hidden. His nose seemed straighter now. My eyes feasted, having never fully gotten a view of his neck, thick and leading toward those broad shoulders I remembered gripping.
He shifted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Good.” A slight nod.
He looked almost touchable, not so separate from the world. It took me another moment to put my finger on it. His eyes were lacking the tension lines, the grief he carried with him, and the realization opened something in my chest. My palm pressed against my sternum, as if I could grab it, touch it, preserve it, whatever it was.
Gazing at him caused me to clutch my teacup harder. The past few days had been a mess of highs and lows, hot and cold. The strumming in my veins was a reminder. But now, it was as if I was truly seeing the real him for the first time. The man who had held my hand and thanked me for not giving up on him.
The silence had to cease, to get me to stop staring, put an end to these wild thoughts running through my mind. “I was sex-blocked from entering my room.” It sounded ridiculous even as I blurted it out.
Oliver’s eyebrows popped up.
“Sebastian and Finn never gave up the honeymoon phase. They like to treat every new place like it’s a vacation.”
“So, they’re having vacation sex in your room?” A single eyebrow arched up, drawing me along with it.
It sounded worse when he said it. I stood up, reaching on the shelf for the bottle of bourbon, pouring a generous shot into my cup. “Yup.”
“Where are you sleeping?” Oliver didn’t even sound surprised, which was fair after what he had witnessed during dinner. Sebastian and Finn had no problem with PDA. It wasn’t too much, but they seemed unable to not be touching the other for an extended amount of time. I had never felt that way about another human, my skin hungry, desperate for contact.
“Hadn’t gotten that far.” The garage? The lawn? My only options were terrible.
“There still water in there?” His head nodded toward the kettle.
I moved to grab him a cup, but his hand at my elbow stopped me. Instead, he made it himself, refreshing mine in the process, before sitting down across from me in the breakfast nook. His gaze skimmed my body, making me remember I had taken my bra off when I changed. I glanced down discreetly. Crap.
Oliver cleared his throat, gaze firmly above my neck. “They don’t seem like an obvious match.”
“The artist and the financier? Sebastian is much more straight-laced; he likes his routines and sticks with them. Finn’s life is almost chaotic.” My feet rested on the edge of the bench across from me, close but not touching his leg as my fingers clutched my elbow.
I required sleep, or at least heavy drugs, to stop whatever this was.
“But they make it work,” he said, a statement, not a question.
“Through sheer force of will and love, yeah. It gets messy and they adore complaining to me. But even the things they enjoy nagging each other about are things they truly cherish.” The little sigh I released was accidental. Not everyone got some great love. Sometimes your career was your passion, the thing you connected with and sat alone with for hours.
“Do you think that can last when two people don’t have a lot in common?” His head tilted, focus on me, as if invested in my answer, like it mattered.
“Yeah, I do. On paper they make no sense, but when you meet them, you can’t imagine them with anyone else.”
“I had friends like that.”
“Had?” The word tumbled out. It bothered me more and more every day. Him here, lonely. Even if the house had been full of people, something told me he still would have felt alone with his guilt and shame.
“My social life is a reflection of this house.” Oliver glanced around the room. “Well, before you got here.” A finger traced around the rim of his cup, a finger I wanted tracing me. “You do any work for individuals in social Siberia?”
“You know me. I love a good fixer-upper.” I hid my smile behind my teacup, the steam wafting to my cheeks, warming them.
Oliver tried again to tug at the beard that was no longer there, the curve at the edge of his lips revealed.
I ached to touch him, help him complete the smile. Feel what he was feeling.
“How long have they been together?” His knee brushed my ankle, staying there, acting as an electricity conduit. At dinner we had been in an enclosed space, a table meant for children, but now there was no reason for him to do this other than for the pleasure of it.
My breath hitched. “Sebastian and Finn?”
Oliver nodded.
“Since our final year of college. Though it’s more like forever, they’re such a unit.” They weren’t codependent, but I couldn’t imagine one without the other.
“Are they the marrying sort?”
“Sebastian thinks it’s outdated, more about a person’s tax status than anything else. Finn’s a romantic, and he’s not so subtly leaving pictures from wedding magazines around their apartment.”
“I bet Sebastian has a ring.” Oliver stretched, the bench creaking.
I released a bark of laughter. Got it in one. “For a year, sitting in his drawer, awaiting the moment Finn least expects it.”
“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” Oliver peered at me over his cup.
I appreciated that he didn’t assume it was an automatic yes. Marriage was not for everyone. “I guess I haven’t thought about it. I’m such a nomad.” One of the biggest symbols of commitment, it seemed far out of my reach.
“Because of your job?”
The lonely sensation that had been overtaking me until he had made his presence known returned with a vengeance. “Yeah, but also, I’m not even sure how to be settled. College was the longest I was in one place. Every vacation and break, I met Dad at whatever project he was at. I’m just a short-timer.” I was never in a place long enough to set down roots, I didn’t exactly scream “stable relationship material.”
“Your partner could travel with you, if that’s something you wanted.” Oliver’s voice was quiet.
“That’s a delightful dream.” I didn’t wish to keep talking about this. Not with him. He knew I wasn’t a girl with a home; he recognized it in me. “What about you?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Ah, the game again?”
“Fair’s fair.”
“I told you, I’m beating them off with sticks. Who wouldn’t wish to live in a crumbling estate with a recluse?” I could have mopped the floor with the sarcasm dripping from his voice, then knocked him on the head with it for his nonsense.
“You went through a trauma, and that was not what I asked.”
“Fine.” He grunted, shifting in his seat. “I wouldn’t be opposed to marrying the right person. To consider it. One day.” The halting way he spoke made me want to reach my palm across the table and touch him.
Instead, I tucked my foot underneath his thigh. A compromise.
“Well, be grateful you have a bed. I’m not traveling back upstairs to check if they’re done yet.” I’d make Sebastian snake the toilets before he left. That would teach him. Especially since they were all getting replaced.
“I’m not leaving you to sleep down here.” Oliver glared at me as if I were the person in the wrong here.
“I’m a big girl. I’ll survive.” Worst-case scenario, I’d crash on the bench—you’re never too young to have a back spasm.
“I have a perfectly good bed upstairs.”
What now?My palms broke out in a sweat. Sleep in the same room as Oliver? That sounded like pure torture. What were we going to do, share the bed? My fantasies had gone well beyond thinking about his lips, that kiss. My knees wobbled at the memory, and I was still sitting down.
“Uh.” My mind was blank. Parts of my body were yelling out, Hell yes. Other parts were admitting that this was a terrible idea and would lead to a night of sleeplessness and torture by sexual desire. The goal was to get some sleep, not lie awake panting.
Did I mention how much the beard was working for me?
He lifted his palms in surrender. “Just sleeping, I promise.”
My stomach sank. Because of course this meant something different to him. One of us had walked out of that room without a glance back. This was a peace offering. A kindness, pity. “I’ll be fine.”
He leaned back, arm running along the top of the bench as if he was settling in. “You stay, I stay.”
“Do you have to be so difficult?” I attempted to wiggle my foot, but the weight of his thigh kept me firmly in place.
Realizing he’d won, he stood, gathering our things from the table. He deposited the cups and kettle in the sink before rotating toward me, a softness in his gaze. “Don’t overcomplicate this. Tomorrow is going to be another long day where you work yourself to the bone harder than anyone else. You need sleep.”
I took a breath and stood up, hoping my legs could keep me steady. “Sleep, yes, sleep, it’s a thing we do. Uh, let’s …” Redesigning a house, I was competent. Stand me in front of what was the most gorgeous, complicated man I had ever met? Have him care about my well-being? A romantic disaster.
“Come on.” He gestured for me to lead the way, behind me the entire time in those sweatpants clinging to his thighs, and another T-shirt that he seemed to have an endless supply of.
Walking temptation.