9. Clark
NINE
CLARK
Olly beamed up at me, and her smile was like every cliché out there.
It was dazzling like the sun shining on the open water, making the ocean glimmer like diamonds.
My god, had she always been this beautiful?
She was practically radiant. How had I ever thought of her as dour when we first met?
Okay, so the upchucking had been a bit of a turn-off, but still.
In what seemed like a perfect, made-for-the-screen moment, I closed the distance between us, gently swept some stray hair out of her eyes, enjoyed touching that soft redness, and rested my hands on her arms. I leaned down, and just before our lips made contact, I felt her arms shaking under my hands and saw a look I could only describe as fear in her eyes.
I dropped my hands immediately and took two steps backward at the same time she took one.
I knew the look of someone who felt cornered, and I moved another step toward the kitchen so there was a straight path for her to follow right to the front door if she chose to leave.
She started to reach out for me with her right hand and then dropped it at her side, her face the picture of conflict.
She was biting her bottom lip, and her eyes kept darting around the room, like she wanted to look at anything but me.
“I want to. Believe me, I want to, probably even more than you do with all these pregnancy hormones riding me. They made me almost forget, but...but there's so many things you don't know about me, things that would change your mind in a millisecond. And before you say how ridiculous that is, just remember that the whole time we have known each other, I’ve been your boss. A boss who has put up zero boundaries until now. We’ve only known each other for what, five weeks at the most, Clark. I’ve known myself for twenty-nine years.
I know that there are things about me that are dangerous just for someone else to be close to.
I mean, look at Shepard and me, for crying out loud.
I’ve known him for twelve years. I’ve been his lover for twelve years, up until I moved down here.
And I haven’t told him half the crap about me that he should probably know because I thought it could endanger him.
And I won’t do it, not for my own selfishness.
You know, there was a time that I loved him, or rather, was having feelings of being in love with him, years ago.
And I forced myself to let those feelings go because it was simply too dangerous.
Now why would I spare Shepard and then turn around and put that all on you?
” She held back tears that were pooling in her eyes, like she was willing with all her might for them to stay off her cheeks.
“I decided a long time ago that I was never going to have a serious relationship with anyone, and I can’t help but think that anything with you would be very serious, very quickly.
” She clutched at her belly with her left arm again.
“It’s also why I decided not to have kids.
I thought I would be putting them in the line of fire.
And every damn day that passes, I feel closer to both of you, and I don’t know what to do.
How can I trust you with all this when I can’t even trust myself at this point?
” The tears flowed freely now, and it was all I could do to keep my physical distance from her, instead of wiping her face with my handkerchief.
She was strong and badass, and I just knew she could handle herself at this moment without my interference.
“Olive. Olly. I don't think there is a single thing you could say right now that would change my mind or change the feelings I'm having towards you.” She opened her mouth to speak, but I just plowed ahead, like I felt I’d never get another chance to talk once she said whatever she did.
“Do you want to hear about how I'll think of you at random times when I'm out for a run, and something silly you said will pop into my head and make me grin like I haven't in years? Or how I will invent some excuse to stop by your office since I’ve moved out of it, and how some days I think I should bring you something every day around mid-morning, my only reasoning being the pure pleasure of seeing your face.
Or seeing the way you take your left hand and rub it over your belly, almost like you are comforting the baby or maybe yourself.
“If I have completely misread the vibe between us, let me know whenever you’re ready.
You don't have to be afraid of me. This will sound crazy, but I’ve been lying low ever since I was seven years old because my family was being stalked by some kind of secret society or cult after my sister was born.
I guess you could say I'm kind of in hiding, and I never want to be the person who makes someone else feel that way—that they have to hide or be scared of me. Hell, I would pack up a U-Haul and drive it clear across to the Pacific if you even made the barest suggestion that you were uncomfortable being near me.”
Another silence passed over us, nothing but the ticking of the kitchen clock counting down the seconds to when she would leave.
I closed my eyes and scrubbed a hand over my face.
This was it. I was losing her, all because of my inability to read people and my need to move fast with Olly instead of slow and steady.
Then, breaking the stretched-out quiet, she spoke.
I lifted my eyes and stared into her kind gaze as she reached out and held my forearm, saying, “Thank you for sharing that with me, Clark. It took courage. Um, I don’t drink these days, but I have some lovely rosé that’s probably going to be dumped at some point.
Would you like a glass? Sometimes when you reveal you’re hiding from an evil cult, you want a stiff drink to wash it down.
Trust me, I have experience with this. I’ll tell you about it one day.
I usually always have tequila on hand, but that’s a major factor of how I also got knocked up, so...
tequila and I are on an indefinite break, even after the pregnancy. ”
After I turned down the wine, which would have necessitated a trip to her place, we sat in silence for a bit, just each of us stewing about something different.
Finally, I think she couldn’t handle the quiet anymore.
At least, not the type of quiet that burned with tension.
“You're not wrong about the vibe, okay? I didn't come down with the last shower. I feel it too. But if I tell you the truth about me—hell, if I tell you even part of the truth about me—that vibe would curl up and die along with any feelings you're having. You’re just going to have to trust me on that. And there’s something about knowing that someone cares that much that I don’t know if I can bear to part with. Do you understand that? Can you understand how a secret can become such a deep part of who you are that you just know you can’t tell even the people you want to trust the most? ”
“Try me,” I said simply, hoping she would take the bait as I schooled my face into a neutral expression.
I mean, it couldn't be that bad, right? She didn’t look like an axe murderer or a serial killer, though I supposed they looked like everyone else.
Dismissing such foolish thoughts, I took my hands out of my pockets and held them loosely at my side.
Then I had a slightly better idea and snagged one of the stools from the breakfast bar and sat down in it, giving her both space and a very slight advantage when it came to height.
She then surprised me by moving over to the breakfast bar and sitting on the stool the farthest from me.
It was almost better like this because she at least was willing to sit and talk with me instead of just marching out the door.
I then looked at her expectantly, and part of me got a minor thrill as she took a deep breath and obviously was prepared to launch into some kind of explanation as to why we shouldn’t fully embrace our feelings toward each other.
That wasn't the part that I was excited about.
It was the fact that I was finally going to get information—the hardest thing to get about Olly McLeod.
She then, puzzlingly, reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone.
She dialed, and my heart leapt up into my throat.
What was she doing? “Aaron, hey, it’s—thanks, Aaron.
” She took another huge inhale and said the last thing I possibly expected.
Like honestly, she could have been talking about Earth being invaded by xenomorphs, and I would not be more surprised.
“Hey, Jeff. This is way out of work hours, but I need to talk to human resources, and obviously, I can’t do that until Monday.
As my direct report, you’re going to have to fill in for this weekend because I can’t wait on this.
It’s about Clark Evans. He—” she gasped and was quiet for a moment.
“Jeff, have you lost your bloody mind? This is Clark Evans we’re talking about, not Jack the Ripper.
Thank you. Anyway, as I was trying to say, he and I have been spending time together outside of the office, in each other’s apartments.
Nothing physical has happened, but we are both having feelings that are bordering on inappropriate, considering I’m his supervisor.
I know I should have gone to HR weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure about how he was feeling until just now.
I-I’m prepared for any consequence. Should I head to HR first thing on Monday morning?
Or to your office?” She closed her eyes and held a hand out toward me, and I held it firmly.
If this was all she’d allow, than I had better understand.
“Okay, I’ll see you then. Thanks, Jeff.”
“Why did you...” I floundered for the right words.