Chapter 32
“Are you upset that I also wanted to be tourists today?” Oliver asked as we stood at a pub table, a large oak tree stretched out above us. A wide array of cheeses was in the center of the table and a selection of wine had just been poured.
“Of course not,” I said. I wore a sundress and sandals, which felt good because even in the shade it was hot for early May.
“This is fun.” I swirled the deep red wine in my glass and took a sip.
It was fruity and rich. “What are you like when you’re drunk?
” I asked. I’d never seen Oliver drunk and I wasn’t sure a wine tour, where we were only taking sips at every vineyard we stopped at, was going to get him anything more than slightly tipsy, but I was curious.
“Quiet, I guess. I’ve only been drunk twice before,” he said.
“Twice?” I asked in shock.
He chuckled. “I’m careful, remember?”
“Not anymore, not with me,” I teased, thinking about that morning in bed.
His jaw tightened, his brow dipped, and he said, “No, selfishly, not with you.”
I leaned in close to him, my breast pressing against his arm. “Should we find a place to be selfish now?”
He gave a breathy laugh, his jaw finally loosening, and took a sip of wine.
“I thought you said you were a quiet drunk,” I said. The bus, which had taken us to five vineyards that day, had dropped us off at the downtown city park two hours ago. The park was surrounded by shops and restaurants and bars.
The wine tour turned out to be perfect for research.
I got lots of videos for Kari of scenery and vineyard owners and people and wine.
It was lovely. I tried to keep my drinking to a minimum because this really was a working weekend for me.
So I was only slightly buzzed. But Oliver had tried every wine they offered, oftentimes drinking an entire glass, and now, downtown, we were following up our day of wine with food and beer and several Jell-O shots for Oliver that I’d poached off a group of college kids in the midst of a bar crawl.
Oliver was drunk. Even though he kept insisting he wasn’t.
“I’m not drunk,” he said again. “I’m just expressing valid thoughts.”
“Very valid,” I said, taking hold of his hand because he kept slowing down to peer in store windows. We were heading to Boots and Spurs, the last stop of the night. “I want to hear all your thoughts. It’s nice that you want to take care of me.” That was the last thing he’d said.
“But I know you don’t need to be taken care of. You can take care of yourself. I’m a feminist, you know.”
I held back a laugh. “Yes, you keep telling me that.”
“Because I am. My mom did the same exact job as my dad, probably did it better, in fact, and made less money. It was maddening to see.”
I squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re still a golden retriever even when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Where is your dad now, by the way?”
“No idea. It was an ugly divorce. Hard for all of us to live through.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling his hand in front of me and running my other one up his arm.
“It had been bad for a long time before that. Lots of pain, lots of tears.” He paused. “Probably another reason I’m still single.”
“Are you? Still single?” I teased. “Good to know. I might know someone who is interested.”
“Oh,” he said, as if the reality of his relationship status just dawned on him.
“Do I have to officially ask you to be my boyfriend? Would you like me to ask in note form with multiple-choice answers you can circle?”
He squeezed my hand. “I’m supposed to ask.”
“I thought you were a feminist,” I whispered.
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I don’t want to see you hurt. Remember that day you were crying?”
I let out a single laugh. “Yes, I remember it well.”
“Me too. I hated it. I wanted to punch Rob in the face. I think I could take him. Do you think I could take him?”
“I think you could take him.”
He pulled me against his side and his expression went dark. “You’re good for me. I don’t know if I’m good for you.”
“You make me feel safe because of who you are, and it’s been awhile since I felt that way.” Even though I teased him for his careful, thoughtful personality, it’s what helped me feel secure with him. After being with someone who wasn’t careful at all, I needed that.
“I like you,” he said. “A lot.”
“I like you a lot too.”
“Are we going to that bar with all the people?” He pointed ahead to a building that was packed. People were standing around tables outside and a steady stream was flowing inside. The smell of barbecue filled the air, along with loud music pouring out into the streets from the open doors.
“That’s the place.”
“That’s a lot of people,” he said. “You like people more than I do.”
“Is that why you work from home? Because you don’t like people?”
“I work from home because it saves me overhead and helps me make more money. You work from home now too.”
“I guess I do.”
“You need a space in your apartment that is different from the space you live in. It will help you get in the right mindset for work.”
“My apartment is too small for that.”
“A corner of your bedroom would work. I could help you design something.”
“Are you trying to take care of me again? Is that why you helped me make my website and drove me here this weekend?”
“Yes!” he said loudly.
I wrapped my arms around his waist as we walked. Turns out I didn’t mind being taken care of. “You are so drunk.”
“I’m just a little buzzed,” he said.
We showed our IDs to the bouncer at the doors to the bar. The music was even louder inside.
A man on the stage with a microphone was calling out steps as a large group of people in the center of the room followed along, stomping and turning to the beat.
I immediately steered us to the bar, where we had to wait behind a dozen people before we could order drinks.
I just got a sparkling water, but Oliver leaned onto the bar littered with peanut shells and said, “A beer, please. Whatever you recommend.”
With our drinks in hand, we wound through the crowd until we found the empty corner of a tall table off to the side of the dance floor. We watched the dancing while we drank.
“You want to do that, don’t you?” he said after a while.
“Dance?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“I do. But only if you do it with me.”
He downed the rest of his drink in two big gulps and said, “Let’s do it.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“You need to get drunk more often.”
“I’m not drunk.” He said it, and yet on the dance floor, he couldn’t keep his hands off me.
Not that I wanted him to. He stood behind me, holding on to my hips as I moved with the instructions from the announcer.
Oliver moved with me, usually a step behind, but laughing and trying.
Several times his hands grazed the sides of my breasts or rested on my ass.
I was perfectly sober and couldn’t keep my hands off him either.
I clung to his bicep for several steps or grabbed hold of one of the belt loops on the back of his jeans or held his hand.
And I laughed too, and got half the steps wrong.
He ordered more drinks and we danced until a fifteen-minute break was announced.
Then we stumbled out of the bar. The night air felt cool on my hot, damp skin.
The hotel was a short Uber ride away. As I climbed into the car after Oliver, he pulled me to the middle seat, his arm immediately going around my shoulders after I buckled in. I held on to his hand with both of mine.
He kissed me on the temple. “I had fun,” he whispered.
I smiled up at him. “Did you have the time of your life?”
“And I owe it all to you?” he asked.
I smiled. “I knew that movie was on my deal-breaker list for a reason.”
He placed a kiss on my lips. Soft music played from the Uber driver’s car stereo, but she didn’t try to talk to us other than confirming our destination.
“Did you get video for Kari at the bar?” he asked, seeming to remember again why we were here. His breath smelled like peanuts and whiskey.
“I did. While we were dancing.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“You were too distracted by my boobs.”
“I was.”
The Uber driver met my eyes in the rearview mirror with a smile in hers.
I kept Oliver’s arm around me as we walked into the hotel because he was drunker than I realized, uncertain on his feet.
“You okay?” I asked inside the elevator, holding some of his weight.
“You’re right, I’m drunk. Tomorrow is going to suck.” He put his forehead on my shoulder.
I hugged him around the middle. “You’re going to hate me for letting you drink so much.”
“I would never. You’re funny and free and smart.”
“What about beautiful?”
“Very beautiful,” he said. The elevator doors opened on our floor and I helped him down the hall. We’d canceled the second night of his room that morning and moved all his stuff over to mine. I led him there now.
I tapped the keycard on the door and opened it. He walked straight to the bed, collapsing there, while I turned on the entryway light.
“I’m getting you some water,” I said. “And potato chips from the lobby store. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t be long. I want you to take me. Please take me.”
I laughed and headed back downstairs for the hangover-prevention supplies. Well, they wouldn’t prevent it, but they would help.
I bought a bag of Lay’s, a large water, and a small bottle of aspirin in the lobby store.
Back at the room, I opened the door to heavy breathing. Oliver was out. He’d gotten his shoes off and his pants halfway off before he’d given up and lain back on the bed. I set my supplies on the nightstand and pried his pants the rest of the way off his legs.
He startled awake and sat up.
“Shh,” I said as he looked around the room. “It’s okay. I want you to eat a handful of these, take three of these, and drink half this water.”
He was halfway asleep still but he obeyed. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” I said, pulling the comforter on the bed back and helping him beneath it.
“I just realized something. The past can’t be left behind because it’s still your present.”
“You’re my present? Is that what you’re saying? You’re adorable.” I kissed his cheek.
“You can have me now,” he said. “I’m yours.”
“You’re drunk, babe,” I said. “I’ll take you tomorrow. Promise.”
“You like to take care of me too,” he mumbled.
“I do,” I said, a warm feeling spreading across my chest. I really did.
I kissed him, his lips salty from the potato chips, and then pulled the sheet up over his shoulders. His breathing went heavy again, and as I stood there staring at him, I realized something that scared me more than anything ever had—I was falling in love with this man.