Chapter 12 #2
Oliver is standing out front, looking nervous but handsome as hell in his usual casual shirt and pants. Despite his anxiety, he looks incredibly handsome, his eyes searching mine through the car window as he takes a step forward.
Wilfred turns to look at me. “You know we love having you here, Amelia. But do us all a favor. Take your men and go live the happy life you deserve, far away.”
My bottom lip trembles as I look at Wilfred and nod. When Oliver opens the door and reaches out a hand to help me, I feel a rush of emotions.
Hope, mostly.
Love.
“May I?” Oliver asks softly, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, a silent plea for me to trust him.
I take his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch, grounding me. “Yes,” I whisper, stepping out of the car.
We walk toward the entrance, and excitement starts to build. I take a deep breath as we step inside, and the scent of old books and polished wood envelops me.
This is… wow.
I squeeze Oliver’s hand, and he returns the comforting gesture, instantly soothing my nerves.
“How did you manage this?” I ask, barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might break the spell. After hours, the library feels magical, almost ethereal in its silence. But before Oliver can answer, realization dawns on me, and I can’t help but smile. “Grey.”
Of course, our resident hacker extraordinaire would have had a hand in this.
Oliver chuckles, his forest-green eyes twinkling behind his glasses.
“You can hire the library for events in the evening, but Grey may have helped a little to get around the waitlist,” he admits.
“And right now, he’s monitoring the camera feed, looping it so we have privacy.
” Warmth spreads through my chest at the lengths they’d gone to for this surprise.
Oliver leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear, making me shiver.
“Perfect for a thorough Twilight reread,” he teases, “Nobody will ever know.”
“You’re terrible.” I let go of his hand to swat his arm, feigning offense, but I can’t help the giddy laugh that escapes me.
“Don’t,” Oliver says, reaching out to grab my wrist and pull my hand away from my mouth. “Don’t cover your laugh, please. I thought I would never hear it again. Please don’t keep it from me.”
It’s as if he’s in pain, and I don’t know what to say to this, but before the silence can stretch for too long, Oliver takes my hand again and guides me deeper into the library.
He’s different.
So much has changed.
Not just with the guys but within myself.
Because I decided to let go of my hurt feelings.
The lengths they’ve gone to, it all feels like a dream. It isn’t just about this grand gesture. It’s about a future where I’m no longer alone, where I have people who care about me and are willing to fight for my happiness.
Our footsteps echo softly in the empty space, creating a rhythm that seems to match the excited beating of my heart. I’m acutely aware of Oliver’s hand in mine, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my skin, sending tiny sparks of electricity through my body.
We turn a corner, and I gasp. Nestled between two rows of books is a cozy setup that looks straight out of a movie.
A blanket is spread on the floor, adorned with plush pillows, and a plate of strawberries and chocolate sits nearby, flanked by a copy of Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight.
My eyes drift to the shelves surrounding us, and my breath catches in my throat as I recognize the familiar spines.
Jane Austen.
“Oliver,” I whisper, turning to find his gaze filled with an emotion so raw it makes my heart hurt.
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “Amelia, I…” He begins, trembling slightly. “I want to apologize. For… everything.”
God, he’s shaking.
“You—”
“No, please, let me finish,” he interrupts, his grip on my hand tightening as if he’s afraid I might slip away.
“I-I fucked up. I made so many mistakes. I was so scared of… of losing you before I even had you that I ended up hurting you. I’ve never been good with…
life, if I’m honest. I’m good with code, with numbers, logic, things that make sense.
But you… you don’t make sense at all and make my world spin in ways I never imagined. And I… I didn’t know how to handle it.”
I didn’t know how to handle them either.
He pauses, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Amelia.
I’m so, so sorry. For watching you like that.
I was a coward. From the start, I was one.
Yes, we have watched you ever since you had Jamie.
But if I’m honest, for me, it started the first time I saw you two years ago. I saw you and was obsessed.”
“You were?”
He told me that he noticed me from the start, but obsessed?
Oliver swallows hard. “I should have asked you for your name, but I waited at the entrance of our building like a creep just to see which mailbox you used. I tried to time my coffee breaks with yours, hoping for a tiny chance that you might say hello or meet my gaze. And when you did, it would make my whole week.”
It’s not like I didn’t watch them from afar too.
“It made mine, too,” I admit, meeting his vulnerability with my own truth, but he just gives me a small smile like he doesn’t quite believe me.
“I knew it from the very first moment. I saw you, and my heart was stolen. I was obsessed with you from the start, and it only got worse. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t brave enough to step out of the shadows and love you in the light, the way you deserve to be loved.”
“Oliver…” There is pain and regret etched in his eyes, as clear as lines of code on a screen.
“You deserve someone who’s not afraid to show their love openly, someone who can be there for you without hiding in the shadows…
” Oliver pauses, running his free hand through his hair and taking a deep, shaky breath before continuing.
“I was terrified, Amelia. Terrified that if you knew the real me, you’d see all my flaws and walk away. ”
His rawness makes my heart ache. He steps closer, letting go of my hand, only to reach out to hold my face.
“I know I’ve messed up, and I can’t change the past. But I promise you, Amelia, from this moment on, I will love you in the light.
I will be brave, and I will show you every day how much you mean to me.
If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. ”
Tears start to form in his eyes, glistening behind his glasses, and he doesn’t try to hide them. The sight of them makes my own eyes burn with unshed tears. “I love you, Amelia. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. And I’ll love you until my heart gives out.”
Fuck.
I’m not only done with my hurt.
I’m done with theirs too.
So I tell him the only thing that matters, putting my hand over his on my cheek. “I love you, too, Oliver.”
His eyes widen in shock at my admission, and before I can say anything more, he pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly as if he’s afraid to let go.
I can feel the rapid beating of his heart against my chest, matching the rhythm of my own.
We hold each other for a long moment, our breaths mingling as we soak in the closeness.
Slowly, he pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. His gaze softens, filled with wonder and love. He cradles my face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from my cheek. His touch is tender, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation.
Then, with a softness that makes my heart ache, he leans in and starts kissing me—my head, my forehead, my cheeks, my nose—his lips soft and urgent.
“You’re my favorite laugh…” kiss “… my favorite scent…” kiss “… my favorite face…” kiss “… my favorite person…” kiss “… my favorite everything…” He gives me a quick peck on the lips as if he’s afraid to kiss me longer. “My Fave.”
Pushing myself to my toes, I press my lips to his and taste the way he sucks in a breath.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him in closer, deepening the kiss.
His hands grip my waist, anchoring us together, and I can feel the intensity of his emotions through every touch and kiss, making my stomach tingle.
Our kiss becomes more urgent, as if we’re trying to make up for all the time we’ve lost. I can feel his need, his love, and his desperation in every movement, and I want nothing more than to devour him completely, to show him that I feel the same.
After what feels like an eternity, he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. “I have something for you,” he murmurs.
He leads me to the blankets and pulls out a stack of what looks like letters from behind a pillow as I sit down. Sitting next to me, he hands them over with a mixture of nervousness and hope in his eyes.
“I wrote you over the years,” he explains.
“When I wanted to talk to you but couldn’t find the courage, I wrote everything down.
There are many, so many more, but I brought just a few tonight.
If you want them, you can have all of them when we’re back in Seattle.
I want you to know everything I ever wanted to tell you. ”
“Letters, like Mr. Darcy?”
Oliver chuckles. “I’m no Mr. Darcy, but yes.”
He hands me as small stack, but I just look at them, unsure if reading them would violate his privacy after I had preached that they hurt me by violating mine.
Oliver watches me for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “I think it might be better if I explain where each letter is from. It might help you understand.”
I nod, my curiosity piqued. He takes back the letters, sorts through them, and hands me the first two.