17. Ollie
Chapter 17
Ollie
It’s no hardship to cook for Megan. She's sweet and gorgeous, but in her eyes I'm just some kid who’s here to watch over her.
I haven't spoken to her dad about anything other than work since I moved in last week. There’d be nothing to say, anyway. I’ve hardly been here, and I’m not likely to tell him I’ve made her dinner and sat across the table trying not to stare at her body all evening.
Sure, she’s a little awkward, but she’s hot as fuck, and while I’m pleased she said yes to dinner, I don’t understand why she’s got nothing better to do than hang out at home all weekend. I’ve been curious about the boyfriend her Dad mentioned, and now seems as good a time as any to bring him up.
“When will you see your boyfriend next? Your dad said he lives in Australia.”
“Oh. He's not my boyfriend anymore.” She puts her spoon down and rests her elbow on the table, her clenched fist hiding her mouth. “We split up last spring.”
Something softens in my chest. Relief, maybe?
“I'm sorry. He made it sound like you’re together.”
“I know,” she says with a sniff. “He doesn't know, I don’t want him to think I’m a failure.”
Megan squeezes her eyes shut and presses her fingers against them, but it’s useless. One shaky inhale, and tears begin to flow.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Operation Make Megan Like Me was about getting to know her better, not making her cry. I throw my napkin down and round the table, pulling out the chair next to her. I don’t know what to do, but I can’t stand back and watch a woman cry. My hand settles between her shoulder blades while her sobs rattle through her chest.
“I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing.”
“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. Do you want to talk about it? Or shall I do something else to piss you off as a distraction?”
That’s it Ollie, keep it upbeat.
“He lied to me,” she wails, burying her face in her hands. “He had a wife and a family, and he made me think it was over, but he was never going to leave her.”
“Fucking hell. Are you serious?”
“Yes. He was so charming, and I was too stupid, and gullible, and pathetic, and desperate to see through his lies.”
Hearing her put herself down like that makes me want to grab her and shake her out of it. I settle for an arm around her shoulders instead, and she twists her body towards mine.
“Hey, stop that. You’re none of those things. I don’t understand, though. How did you end up with a guy on the other side of the world?”
“We met on a dating app,” she confesses. “He spends half the year here and half there.”
“Oh no, did he have ‘ethically non-monogamous’ in his profile?”
“No, what’s that?”
“People who have permission to sleep around, or they say they do.”
“No,” she sniffs. “He definitely pretended his marriage was over. He said they were living separately, but they were waiting for the kids to start school to make it official. I never questioned it. Wasted three years of my life waiting for him.”
“Was he older than you?”
She nods against my chest. “Ten years.”
Jesus fucking christ.
What kind of prick does that? Leaves his wife and kids at home and lets a young woman get attached.
“He took advantage of you.”
“No. It wasn’t like that. There were lots of good things about him.”
“Like what?”
“Well…” she sniffs, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her top. “He was in finance.”
I burst out laughing, and she pulls back and scowls at me. “That’s the first thing that springs to mind? That's fucking boring, Megan. You can do better than that.”
That sets her off again. “I just want to belong to someone, and for someone to belong to me. All my friends are in love. Hattie hates men and still has a boyfriend. I’m doing everything I’m supposed to, but apparently I’m unloveable.”
“Nah, come on, I’m not having that,” I say, pulling her closer. “You’re not unloveable, you just got unlucky with that guy. You’re better off without him.”
Megan burrows her head against my chest, and though I hate seeing her like this, it feels good to hold her this way. From the speaker in the kitchen, a new song plays, and she’s silent for a moment, before sitting up and composing herself.
“Is this Belinda Carlisle?” Her laugh comes out all shaky as her body recovers from crying. “My dad used to play this all the time when I was a kid. How do you even know this song?”
“He still plays it in the work van.”
Megan swallows hard and pulls away at the mention of her father. I'm not ready to stop rubbing soft circles over her back, and I don’t want this to be the way we end our evening.
“How about we take these to the sofa?” With my arm still slung low around her waist, I reach out and split the last of the wine between our glasses. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound like I was hitting on you.”
“Oh yeah, because crying old ladies are so hot,” she jokes, but she has no idea. Even with her cheeks damp and her eyes rimmed in red, she’s gorgeous.
“Hey, you might be crying, but you’re not old.”
“I’m sorry for ruining such a nice evening,” she says as she settles into her spot on the sofa. “I promise I am over the break-up. Talking about it just makes me feel so stupid all over again.”
“You haven’t ruined anything, Megan. Don’t you feel like we’re already getting to know each other better?” I nudge her knee with mine and she nods. “And hey, I might not have any bad break-up stories to share, but I’m a good listener.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks, pulling a blanket off the back of the sofa and covering her lap. “Or a boyfriend!”
“Oh, I'm definitely straight, but I don’t have a lot of time for dating. Rather keep my head down and work on the van. Do you think you'll get back out there?”
Say no.
“No, I don't have a lot of time for it either,” she says, which is obviously bullshit. She could have her pick of men, but this Australian dickhead has obviously done a number on her self-esteem.
“You were going to sit in on a Saturday night and read a book. You have time to date.”
“No, I mean, I don't want to spend time on all those apps. I’ll know when the right person comes along.”
I’ve known her less than a week, and I can tell she’s a smart woman, but sometimes she says something so deluded it makes me wonder what she’s been smoking.
“Do you think the love of your life will just magically appear one day?”
“I do.”
Behind the smile, I can only imagine what kind of scenario she’s picturing. Some banker wanker with a sports car and an expensive suit. Someone like the bores my sisters have ended up with, who play golf on weekends and think all a relationship needs is money and the occasional bit of jewellery purchased by an assistant. I’ve seen plenty of that with my parents, and I can’t think of a more depressing way to live.
“And how often are new men showing up?” I tease. “By that logic, maybe I'm the love of your life.”
Her eyes flare, then she smiles and downs the rest of her wine. “OK, there’s no need to be mean. I was just starting to like you.”
I can't help but smile back. Operation Make Megan Like Me is off to a great start.