Chapter Twenty-Five #2
It had happened the summer after Oliver and I had first gotten together, and the memory hadn’t faded even after all this time.
We’d ridden down here on our bikes, just the two of us, with several packets of crisps, some sweets, and some bottles of chocolate milkshake—because that was the staple diet of most teenage boys—and spent the whole day just hanging out, trying to build sandcastles with our bare hands, and lying on the sand sharing headphones so we could listen to music on Oliver’s iPod.
It had been late in the afternoon when he’d turned to me, the strains of Fall Out Boy fading from my ear, and told me how much he loved me. Then he’d promised me he’d love me forever, and I’d offered him my heart and soul in return because it was all I had to give.
At the time, it had felt like an easy promise to make.
And while in hindsight, I could look back and sigh at the naivety of youth, I didn’t want to.
Because after everything we’d been through, all the highs and lows and the winding road back to each other, we’d ended up in the same place.
And for once, the cynical part of me was content to admit that maybe love really could be that powerful.
“How could I not? It was our first anniversary. I’d never been with anyone that long before,” I said, scooting myself closer to him until we were pressed shoulder to shoulder.
Our hands were still on the sand, nestled between our thighs.
“And you reminded me about it not long after you came back. When we were in the kitchen.”
“I did, but I still wasn’t sure if you knew the one I meant,” he said. “It really did feel like we’d be together forever back then.”
“We will be now,” I said, squeezing Oliver’s hand. “You didn’t break your promise.”
“I did kind of. If we want to get technical.”
I nudged him with my shoulder. “Fuck off with that nonsense. So we took the long way round. We still got here.”
“I suppose.” Oliver laughed. “And you just told me to fuck off.”
“That was a fond fuck off, not a mean one.”
“I know.” He leant his head against mine. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For this. For not walking away on that first day when you realised it wasn’t my mum you were dealing with and for not ignoring me when I tried to strike up the most awkward conversation ever.”
“It was tempting,” I said, “but I was too intrigued. And I had a professional reputation to uphold. I couldn’t exactly go back to my dad and say I didn’t want to work on the house because you were there.
He’d’ve just laughed at me. His sympathy only stretches so far.
After we broke up, I got one week to wallow in self-pity, then it was off to work.
Gary was nice about it, though. He told me about his divorce. ”
“Did that help?”
“Sort of. Mostly it just made me feel sorrier for him than myself. His ex-wife was a right cow-bag. His second wife is lovely, though. He met her when we were doing some work on her house, and he stood on a funny beam and fell through the ceiling. Broke two ribs.”
“Shit,” Oliver said, sounding half-incredulous and half-shocked.
“He was fine. Kelly heard the crash and came to see what the fuss was about. Gary kept insisting he could drive himself to A&E, but she said that was bloody nonsense, so she took him. And apparently that was it. They spent four hours waiting for him to get X-rays and couldn’t stop chatting.
They’ve been married for seven years now. ”
Oliver chuckled. “Love finds a way. David and Mum met when he walked into her at college carrying a stack of papers and a cup of coffee. Wasn’t pretty apparently, but she helped him clean it up and offered to buy him another coffee.”
“That’s sweet, though,” I said.
“Yeah, although he’s still got a mark on his chest from where he poured hot coffee on himself.”
I winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty clumsy. Mum’s forever patching him up.” He thought for a second. “I do wonder if she engineered this—the whole us having to work together thing.”
“I was wondering that too, but I didn’t want to say anything.”
“Maybe I’m just suspicious, but it seemed too perfect,” Oliver said. “Especially because she’s been hinting for years that I should talk to you. She’s basically compared every boyfriend I’ve ever had to you, and her assessments were always unfavourable.”
“Duh, I’m adorable,” I said, turning my head so I could look at him with the most ridiculous, over-the-top expression I could manage. Oliver snorted.
“You’re something.” He kissed me. “You’re mine.”
“I’d hope so.” I smiled against his mouth. “Because you’re mine too.”
I reached for his t-shirt, trying to pull him into my lap. And it would have worked perfectly… if it wasn’t for a tired and soggy Sparrow suddenly appearing out of nowhere and trying to climb between us. We’d had too much alone time, and now, we needed to pay her some attention.
“What the fuck? Sparrow!” I toppled backwards onto the sand with Sparrow standing on my chest, dripping water into my eyes as she tried to lick my face. “Get off me! Oliver, help!”
But Oliver was too busy laughing at me to help, his whole body shaking as he clutched his side and cackled, not even reaching a hand out to help as I tried to push Sparrow off me.
Rotten bastard.
I loved him, though.