Chapter 30 #2
“The moment I got back from Vienna.” He nods, looking up to his right like he’s recalling the conversation. The whites of his eyes are exposed before switching back to bright hazel, like snow melting to expose the bare forest trees.
My head is so full of questions, only the simplest ones seem to be able to squeeze out. “Why?”
“Well, it would have been even more awkward to do it over email,” he teases. He’s loving every second of this.
I drop the rest of the cookie, hold his shoulders, and shake. “You’ve got to give me a bit more information than that, seriously?
What happened?”
He smiles. “Okay, okay. I didn’t quit because of you. Not because of Wyst. I quit because you kinda inspired me too. I quit because I hate working there. Sure, the free
snacks in the break room help, but oh my god, Jess, I hate being in corporate so much.” He rubs his face. “Dom and I talked,
and I told him I couldn’t be his assistant anymore.”
I hold a pillow for support. “And what did he say?” Ignoring the thrill of him using my real name so casually. Like he’s spent
the last two days apart practicing it.
Oliver leans back against the headboard, picking a cookie out of the box. “He actually offered me a promotion.” He bites into
the cookie with a smirk. “But I turned it down.”
“Oh, how I would love to be related to a billionaire titan of business.” I roll my eyes playfully.
“I told him I wanted to go back to culinary school. I want to give it another try.” He nods, assuring himself it’s the right
decision.
“Have you told your mum?”
“Not yet, but I think you were right. I think Mom’ll want what’s best for me.” He sighs. “I don’t know if that’s what my dad would want, but I’m going to start therapy sessions in a couple of weeks to try and work through that. I can’t live my life for him anymore.”
My parents flash in my mind, unable to comprehend why I wanted to leave Graystone and then why I wanted to start my own business
at twenty-five years old. To risk the money. To be confident that, at the end of the day, your family will support you is
a comfort I couldn’t previously conceptualize. But finding that support in Cecily, Spencer, Pacha, and Oliver, maybe I could
start to understand what that feels like.
My eyebrows meet in the middle. “How could me getting into this mess possibly inspire you?”
He smiles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Your passion, your drive, your relentless pursuit of your goals.
You fired something up in me that made me rethink everything. I’ve just been living in this numb, thoughtless space for over
a year. Ever since my dad died, I’ve just been floating through life, not really living. So I guess the cookies are also a
thank-you present.”
My eyes sting as I struggle to find the words. “I think that was all you.”
He goes to speak, but I interrupt him. “Wait, that means you have absolutely no idea how Dominic reacted?”
He nods, lips in a tight smile. “No. I thought it would be less messy for you if I got out before things kicked off. As far
as he knows, I found out the same time as everyone else.”
My eyes zone out onto the white fluffy bedding, trying to process the last two days when I haven’t begun to process the past
few weeks.
He takes my chin in his hand, regaining my attention. “All I know is, you have had more of an effect on me than even I realized. You’ve made me rethink the little bubble I was living in. Feeling nothing, being nothing, achieving nothing. I owe you more than baked goods for that.”
My fingers fiddle as I shake my head. “You don’t owe me anything. I lied to you. I’m a coward.”
He strokes my palm with his thumb. “You had this fucking awful thing happen to you, and it didn’t stop you from taking a huge
swing for something you care about. Jess, you’re the bravest person I know.”
The anxiety in my chest eases into something warmer, circling me and pulling me into its embrace.
He rests one leg over the other, grunting as he rearranges the pillows behind his back. “But if you do want to make it up to me, the culinary schools I’m applying to are all in London, so you’ll have plenty of opportunities.”
He flashes me that winning smile.
I lean into him, our lips grazing each other’s until his hand laces up my neck and through my hair, pulling me in closer.
My hand lies on his, the other snaking around his taut waist, causing his stomach muscles to twitch under my touch. My phone
continues to buzz incessantly from the floor. We sink into the bed, unwilling to stop until a knock thins the heavy air.
“Hey, Jess?” Cecily’s voice is slightly muffled behind the wooden door.
“Uh-huh,” I say, trying to dull my frustrated tone as Oliver releases my mouth and sends kisses down my neck.
“Did you happen to check your emails in the past ten minutes?” she asks.
“No, you told me not to,” I reply, pressing on Oliver’s chest to slow him down.
“Well, you probably should.” She sounds tense. “Dominic has replied.”
My muscles stiffen as I roll to the other side of the bed and pull up my laptop, still avoiding my phone like the plague.
At least I can close all the open social media tabs and just focus on the email.
I scroll through thirty-six new emails since the video went live and find the one from Dominic’s email address. My hand shakes
as I click through and scan the words.
Ms. Cole,
I would prefer to discuss this in person; please come to the head office at 8 a.m. tomorrow.
Regards,
Dominic Odericco
The door clicks open to reveal Cecily with a fresh cup of coffee in hand.
“I think I’m being called to the principal’s office,” I say to her before turning to Oliver. “Is he going to murder me?”
Oliver scans the email over my shoulder. “I don’t think so; he’s a reasonable person when he wants to be. Do you want me to
come with you?”
“We can both come,” Cecily adds.
I run a hand through my hair, shutting down the screen. “No. Thank you, you’re both doing enough. This is my mess. I need
to fix this myself.”