24. Trinity
Trinity
I pulled the last row of stitches I’d just knit from the scarf I was working on and tossed the whole project on the table.
I’d been trying to come up with a new pattern for the grand opening kit Oliver had suggested but couldn’t quite get my cast on right.
It had to be simple enough to appeal to knitters at every level but also interesting enough to catch the attention of more accomplished potential customers.
Maybe I’d taken on more than I could handle with the co-op project.
It wasn’t the first time that thought had crossed my mind.
There were so many details to keep track of, even with the spreadsheet I’d started.
Not only did I need to finish the interior of the space, but I also had to find artists to take over the studio spaces and sell their creations in the co-op.
I had interviews with two potential artists later on that afternoon.
The number of sticky notes on my wall kept growing.
At the rate I was going, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get everything done before my big day arrived.
Footsteps sounded on the steps. I turned around to see Oliver coming through the door to his apartment, a brown bag in his hand.
He’d left early that morning before I’d even crawled out of bed.
I hadn’t decided yet if it was a good thing or a bad thing that I’d been spending most nights at his place.
Seemed like the most efficient option since I was right next door to the co-op.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” I stood and reached for him as he set the bag down on the table next to me.
“So it’s your eyes that are sore?” He wrapped his arms around me. “After last night, that’s the only part of your body that needs to recover?”
I laughed into his chest. It’s true he’d been giving me a whole-body workout over the past couple of weeks. There were parts of me—muscles I never even knew I had—that ached in the most delicious way. “What’s in the bag?”
“Lunch. I figured you’d get caught up in work and forget to eat.” He pulled back enough to touch his lips to my temple.
“Wow, you really do know me, don’t you?” My words came out in a teasing tone, but underneath I marveled at how he’d come to accurately predict my actions in such a short time.
He reached for the bag. It crinkled as he unfolded the top. “To know you is to…”
My eyes widened. Don’t go there. Time stood still while I waited to see how he’d finish that last statement. He flushed, his cheeks taking on a hint of color. The scent of fresh baked bread floated into the air between us.
“To know you is to know you love your chicken Caesar salads.” He held the takeout container out to me.
My hands shook as I took it. Nice save on his part. “Thanks.”
“What have you been working on this morning?” He pulled out a chair and sat down next to me.
Any remaining awkwardness disappeared as I groaned and lifted the lid off my salad. “I’m trying to come up with a unique cast on for my cowl. Something that’s got a little bit of stretch to it and a decorative edge. I thought I had it, but it’s not quite there.”
I glanced up and caught him looking at me, his brow furrowed.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to bore you to death.
Tell me about your morning.” I dug my fork into my salad.
The fact he knew I adored the Caesar salads from the diner up the street made me smile and feel all warm and cozy inside.
It was like he’d wrapped my heart in a hand-knit blanket.
Picturing Oliver’s big hands trying to maneuver a set of knitting needles made me grin even more.
“What are you smiling about?” He bit into his Philly cheesesteak sandwich.
I shook my head. “Nothing. How’s your sandwich?”
“Awesome, as usual. I can’t believe I’ve been in the States for years and never tried one of these before I met you.”
I’d introduced him to his new favorite the last time we’d had dinner at the diner. “You know that’s just a copycat, right?”
“I can’t imagine anything being better.” He grinned before he took another chunk out of his lunch.
“You’re too easy. One of these days I need to take you to Philly for a real one.” I glanced up as I took another bite of salad.
The smile had faded from his face. “You know I’ve only got another few weeks left, right?”
“Unless you find a job.”
His shoulders slumped. “Yeah, unless I find a job.”
“So how did your talk with your professor go?” The more time I spent with Oliver, the more I wished there was a way for him to stay.
Even though that scared me, made me want to hop on a plane and escape to the most remote corners of the Earth, the idea of him sticking around also sent a bit of a thrill through me.
I’d never actually wanted to spend more than a few days or weeks with a man before.
It was always fun and exciting in the beginning until their true colors shone through.
But Oliver was different. Knowing our time together was limited made it so much more important that we took advantage of the days we had left.
“He said he’d be on the lookout for opportunities and send out a few feelers.” The paper crinkled as he dragged a fry through a glob of ketchup. “But I’m not going to hold out hope.”
“You know Macy has some pretty tight connections at a lot of the big places in town.” I’d been hesitant to bring that up before. Once I turned Macy onto finding Oliver a job, the woman wouldn’t rest until she did.
But he shook his head. “I think I’d be better suited to something small to mid-sized.”
“Oh.” I’d always assumed he wanted to climb a tall corporate ladder. Seizing the opportunity to learn a little bit more about him, I set my plastic fork down and wiped at my mouth with a napkin. “I guess I always figured you wanted a high-profile corporate job.”
“Nah. At least not at first. My dream is to own my own business. Maybe something like Tapped.”
That made sense. Why hadn’t I thought to ask before? “Can’t you do that at home though? Go back and work for your family’s vineyard?”
“It’s not that simple.” He sat back in his chair and his eyes took on a look that made it seem like he was far, far away.
I waited to see if he’d say anything more.
“My dad would love for me to come home and work with him.” He turned to meet my gaze. That wasn’t the whole story, I could tell by the way his brow furrowed, and something flashed across his face. Regret? Pain? Loss?
“But?” I prompted, suddenly desperate to get to know him better.
I knew his body like I knew the back of my own hand.
I’d run my tongue over every square inch of him.
Knew where he liked to be kissed, how he liked to be stroked, where he was the most ticklish.
But I had no idea what he held in his heart.
He reached over and covered my hand with his. The weight of his touch caught me off guard.
“I need to tell you something.” His gaze burned into mine.
My pulse ticked up and a sinking feeling started pulling at my gut. “What is it?” Possibilities raced through my head.
“I…” He glanced away.
My phone pinged. I ignored it. This was more important.
“Hey, what is it? You can tell me.” I gave his hand a squeeze.
Whatever he had to tell me, I wanted to know.
I needed to know. The urge to flee came on strong, pulling me toward the door like an industrial-strength magnet.
But I held my ground against it, bound and determined to see this through.
For once in my life I wasn’t going to run.
“So my family back in New Zealand…”
“Yes?” My phone pinged again. I nudged it away.
“Don’t you want to check that?” He nodded toward my phone.
“No, just tell me what you were going to say.”
“I haven’t been—” The sound of my ringtone drowned out his words. I’d turned up the volume, so I’d hear it if I set it down somewhere in the warehouse.
“I’m so sorry.” I flipped it over to dismiss the call. The sign company. I needed to take the call. Moving my hand from his, I held the phone to my ear with one hand and lifted a finger to signal I needed a minute with the other. “Hello?”
“Ms. Ryan?” A gruff voice barked out my name.
“Yes? This is she.”
“We made the changes on your sign, and our team is outside ready to install right now. Are you in the building?”
I pushed back from the table. “Yes.”
“If you could meet my crew on the street, they’ll need access to the roof.”
“Of course. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be down right away. Can you hold for just a moment?” I held my hand over the mouthpiece and whispered to Oliver. “Sign’s here. I’ve got to go.”
He nodded.
“Can we talk about this later?” The last thing I wanted to do was walk away from him when it seemed like he was about to share something important.
“Yeah, go take care of your sign.” The carefree grin I’d come to love spread across his face.
“We’re not done talking about this. I want to hear what you were going to say.”
He stood and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Promise?”
He nodded then spun me around and gave me a playful swat on the ass to propel me toward the door.
I stuck my tongue out at him as I took my hand away from the mic. “Sorry about that. What do you need me to do?”