That makes me laugh. “Really? Were you being hounded relentlessly?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “It’s been exhausting having to dodge your advances.”
I finally sigh and get comfortable in my seat. Oliver has a way of making me feel at ease in one moment. His fingers brush my knee and I jolt. And completely electrified the next.
“So, where are you taking me?” I ask, turning my face to look at him. He smiles, looking straight ahead.
“If I tell you, it would ruin the surprise aspect of the date.”
“We’re not going to dinner and a movie, are we?” I say, biting back a laugh when he shoots me a look.
“Do I look that dull to you?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Where do you normally take your dates?”
His gaze cuts to mine again. “To eat.”
“And . . . that’s it?” I ask, a little unimpressed.
“Well, that’s not it, but I don’t think you want to talk about that any more than I want to talk about Hunter Grayson.”
I look away, smiling. “Fair enough.”
“Unless, of course, you want to talk about Hunter Grayson,” he says, as he parks the car in the marina.
“I’d rather not,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush. Hunter is still a friend of mine, and we each did a pretty good job at burying the memories of the night we had together.
Oliver turns his body to face me and runs the back of his hand down my cheek to my neck, his eyes on mine the entire time. “I’m really glad we’re doing this.”
I smile softly, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “Me too.”
He drops his hand, gets out of the car and, while I gather my purse, he comes around to open the door for me. We walk a couple of steps before his hand closes over mine, and he threads our fingers together. It’s such a small gesture, but it sets my pulse on fire.
“We’re going on a boat?” I ask when we walk past the restaurant there and head toward the vessels.
“Not quite,” he says. “Maybe next time.” He tilts his head to look down at me, and I feel the warmth of his smile curl through me.
We walk up to the edge of a dock, where there’s a table set up. The floor around it is scattered in candles and it’s completely desolate, except for the server standing beside it with a champagne bottle in his hands and a smile on his face.
“Mario, good to see you again,” Oliver says, dropping my hand and offering it to the server.
“Pleasure is all mine, Dr. Hart,” he says with a hint of a Spanish accent, smiling and nodding as he takes the hand he’s being offered and shakes it.
“This is Estelle,” Oliver says. “Elle, this is Mario.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I say, offering him my hand as well. Once we’re settled in our seats, Mario pours us some champagne, hands us a menu, and tells us he’ll be back. My eyes scan everything again—the candles, the table, the boats, the sun that’s still setting over the ocean in the distance—and finally, I look up at Oliver’s handsome face.
“You know you could have taken me to In-N-Out Burger and I would have been just as happy, right?”
His eyes flick to mine, and he gives me a slow, half-smile. “The night’s still young.”
I smile and reach for my glass of champagne. “How did you set this up, anyway?” I ask, when I see Mario walking toward us with a tray in his hands. He places it between us, bows and walks away. “Where did you find that guy?” I ask when he’s out of earshot. Oliver chuckles, his shoulders shaking. I love that his dimples—although covered by the scruff on his face—are in full sight.
“Are we playing twenty-one questions?” he asks after a beat, his eyes sparkling with amusement under the brim of his hat.
“We might as well,” I retort, smiling back.
“I met him when he brought his kid into the ER. I was on my way out, he and his wife were frantic because David, their son, wiped out and hit his head. So I helped them.”
“And you stayed in touch?” I ask, frowning.
“Well, I had to make house calls,” he says, looking away.
“You make house calls?”
He sighs and looks at me again. “Not usually.” I raise an eyebrow and signal for him to elaborate. Finally, he sighs again, runs a hand through his hair and speaks. “They didn’t have medical insurance, so I had to kind of do what I did off the books.”
My heart squeezes in my chest and I smile, reaching my hand out and placing it over his on the table. He turns his over and holds it there. We don’t say anything. I don’t tell him what an amazing man he is for doing that, and he doesn’t elaborate further. From experience, I know that Oliver is the kind of guy who would throw himself in front of a bus for you and then deny that he saved your life. He’ll chalk it up to anybody would have done the same. He doesn’t realize that people aren’t that nice. People don’t push aside their own agenda for the sake of the greater good. He looks into my eyes with this longing—this need—as he draws circles over my hand. For a moment, I can’t remember what we were talking about, what we’re doing, where we are, or what day it is.
“Shall we eat?” he says, flashing an easy smile that makes my heart stutter. I nod and take my hand back, putting it over my lap and folding it into the other while I wait for him to uncover the plate of oysters between us.
“Did you already work your last day at the hospital?” I ask, slipping a forkful into my mouth.
“Well, I’m done with my residency, so yes, but I’ve been picking up shifts here and there while I decide what to do next.”
“I have to go back on Tuesday for a class. Mae wants me to teach the class how to make sculptures out of shattered glass.”
Oliver picks up his gaze from the plate and looks at me, but doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“I wish the powers that be would let the kids come to the studio instead. Jen is asking Mr. Frederick about it to see if he’ll let me set up a field trip there, just so they can get out. I mean, if it’s possible. I’m sure it would be difficult to cover the doctors and nurses and stuff . . . I wish this house would sell already,” I say, sighing.
“What are you going to do once it does?”
“Originally I was planning on giving all of the money to Wyatt’s parents. Set up an account and be done with it. But then I thought, I mean . . . it was my house too. Maybe I should take some of it and give the rest to them. I don’t know. It’s confusing. They don’t want it, and I don’t need it, so I go back and forth on it.”
Oliver nods and takes a sip of champagne. “Do you miss your life there?”
My eyes search his. I know what he’s asking. I don’t know if I want to answer. Finally, I take a breath and look away for a beat. Before I answer, he speaks again.
“Let’s do something,” he says, his hand reaching out for mine again. “For the remainder of this date, we ask and answer every question imaginable. It doesn’t matter how dumb or how hard it is. I want to know everything. Nothing left unsaid, okay?”
“That’s a lot for one date,” I breathe. He squeezes my hand.
“Sometimes one date is all we have.” His response makes me feel like crying, and I guess he sees that, because he brings my hand up to his and kisses it. “I want a lot of dates like this, Elle. A lot. But in the past, we’ve done things, and we haven’t communicated and, well . . . I don’t want that to happen again.”
I take another breath. “I don’t miss it. I mean, I miss the comfort of going there and knowing I was home. I miss Wyatt sometimes,” I say, my voice catching. I swallow down the tears I feel coming. “I miss his enthusiasm about art and life and the stories he would tell me about his travels. Is this weird?” I whisper, looking up at him and wiping under my eyes.
He looks like he’s being lashed at, but he shakes his head nonetheless. “It’s . . . it’s fine. I want to hear this. I don’t want you to think you have to erase your past because of me, or forget about him or your life together. I j
ust . . . I’ve never felt like I’ve had to compete with anybody for someone’s affection, and now I feel like I’m competing with a ghost, and sometimes memories are better than realities.”
I stare at him for a moment before I stand and walk around the table. Oliver leans back, wordlessly making room for me on his lap. I sit there and wrap my arms around his neck, placing my head on his chest. His arms automatically go around me, holding me there so perfectly, it’s as if my body is a puzzle piece snapping in place. So many years I’ve dreamt of doing this with him and when we finally do, we have the shadow of my past over us. That’s how life is—I know that—but it still breaks my heart for him . . . for us.
“Would it help if I told you that the whole time I was with Wyatt he was competing with your ghost?” I whisper against his neck, breathing in his calming, clean scent.
His chuckle vibrates through me. “Not really. That would just mean I should have tried harder before. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have had to experience such a terrible loss.”
I inch back from him, to look at his face. “How is it that you haven’t found a woman yet? All those women you work with—that you went to school with—all, smart and beautiful. How could perfect Oliver not have found someone?”
He chuckles again, his eyes sparkling as he reaches up and combs the hair out of my face. I do the same for him, but leave my hand on the back of his neck. He closes his eyes for a moment and swallows. “I’m not perfect, Elle. Not even close.”
“You are to me,” I whisper.
His eyes darken when he looks at me. “Maybe that’s your answer.”
“ON A SCALE from happy to I can’t stop smiling excited, how thrilled would you be if I told you Mia packed an overnight bag for you?” Oliver asks, placing his fedora on the dashboard.
After dinner, we sat and talked about Wyatt and the house, mostly, and now that we’re back in the car driving, I’ve been kind of anxious. I really, really don’t want the date to end. We’ve been driving for quite a while, listening to music, talking about movies . . . so it isn’t until he asks me this question, that I realize that the only thing we haven’t talked about are what my plans are for tomorrow.
“Well . . .” I start, pausing to laugh. “I guess you’ve only given me choices I have to smile about so . . . really happy?”
He grins and looks my way. “Good, because it’s in the trunk, and I’m kidnapping you for the night. Maybe for the rest of the weekend.”
“You realize that you’re setting yourself up for failure on any future date, right?”
“Never doubt an overachiever,” he says, smiling as he pushes hair out of his eyes.
I laugh and resist the urge to lean in and run my hands through his hair. “Your hair grows so fast,” I say instead.
“Yeah, that’s the upside. Too bad I need to cut it short again soon. And shave.”
“For job interviews?” I guess.
“Yeah, I let them hire me before I let my hair grow again. Nobody wants to hire a doctor with a man bun.”
“It’s not even long enough for one yet, but I happen to know somebody who thinks doctors with man buns are hot.”
“Do you, now?” he says, flashing a grin my way.
“I’m sure I do.”
“Does her name start with an E?”
“Possibly.”
“Is she afraid of the dark?”
“No,” I grumble, and look away, making him laugh.
“Does she happen to hate my jokes?”
My lips tip up, but I keep looking out the window. “I can’t imagine anybody would like your jokes.”
“Oh, but they do.”
“Oliver,” I say, turning to him with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m sorry to break it to you, but they’re just pretending.”
He scoffs, giving me a bewildered look. “Pretending? Okay, I get it. You just haven’t heard my latest.”
I groan and laugh at the same time. “Let’s hear it.”
He waits until we’re stopped at a red light to lean in so that his chin is almost on my shoulder. For a moment, I forget how to breathe. Then he starts talking and drops his voice so low that everything inside of me zaps, and I can’t help but hold my breath. “If I were an enzyme,” he says, his lips, a soft tickle over my ear. “I’d be DNA helicase,” he continues, as he trails his lips over my neck. My eyes flutter shut, and I grip on to my knees. “So I could unzip your genes.”
I open my eyes as he pulls back, and my heart drops into the pit of my stomach at the hungry look in his eyes. When his gaze moves to my mouth, I can’t take any more. I lose all pretenses. I pull him to me and kiss him, frantically at first, then slowly, so that the kiss teases . . . tastes . . . our tongues barely touching. He pulls away and marvels at me for a moment before the sound of honking snaps us of out of the moment and he continues through the intersection.
“Not bad, huh?” he says after a beat. I’m still trying to regain my breath. I lick my lips and close my eyes at the taste of him.
“That wasn’t a joke. That was nerdy seduction,” I say in a breath. I can’t help but smile when he starts laughing.
“Nerdy seduction,” he says, still chuckling.
“Next question, are you still dating or hooking up or doing whatever you’re doing with Grace . . . or anybody else in the hospital . . . or elsewhere?”
I watch the side of his face as he frowns. When he stops behind a car, he shoots me a look. “I told you I wasn’t, Elle. Do you think I would insist on a date if I was seeing someone else?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “I’m not sure how you work in that department.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You know exactly how I work in that department.”
“So you’re not seeing anyone else right now?” I ask, ignoring his comment.
“Are you insinuating that we’re seeing each other?” he says.
“No. Why would you . . .”
“You said anyone else, which would mean that we’re seeing each other.”
“Well that’s not what I meant.”
He rounds the corner to a nice hotel on the water and pulls up in front of the valet. Oliver’s fingers paint over mine. “It’s what I want it to mean.”
My heart crashes in my chest as the valet guy opens the door for me. I make my feet move and step out of the car, just barely containing my composure. Oliver comes around with two bags in his hands, and I follow him inside. I look around, inhaling the aromas coming from the spa, and read that we’re in the Sonoma Coast. I can’t believe the car ride seemed so short—not that I’d ever been up here, but I’ve passed it plenty of times. This is the point where Vic and I usually start bickering, because the road trip is taking so long. I step aside as he goes up to the counter. I watch as he speaks to the lady, making her laugh at something he says, and then meet his eyes as he walks back to me. Oliver has always had this thing about him—this easiness that comes with him. He fits in with any group of people, because he embraces everybody with the way he is.
He carries himself with such confidence that you would think he owns the world. He’s the kind of guy who can participate in a conversation amongst important businessmen and doctors alike, and they would never question who he is. They would never suspect he was the guy who arrived in a beat-up car and worked two jobs so he could get it. He has a smile that’ll charm the pants off anybody if they’re not careful enough, and pairs that with a heart of gold. As he approaches and flashes that very smile at me, I feel myself melt.
“Ready?” he asks. I tuck my arm in his and nod, following him to the elevator. I realize that I haven’t asked him why he brought me to a hotel or what his plans are. Something happens to me when I’m around Oliver. It’s like the world vanishes around me. Everything can be falling apart, but in his arms, I’m whole.
When we reach the room, he puts our bags down beside the door and waits for me to explore. It’s a really big room, with a king-size bed, a bench by the window, and oversized, plush couche
s and a fireplace off to the side to make a living room. I walk over to the window and sit down on the cushioned bench, touching the cold glass with my hand. Oliver hasn’t said anything since we entered the room, and when I turn around, I find him propped up against the wall on the other side of the bed, with his legs crossed and his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. His fedora is slightly tilted down, and his hair is seeping out of it. What I can make out of his green eyes makes my stomach toss uncontrollably.
“Why are you standing all the way over there?” I ask with a nervous laugh.
“I’m kind of worried of what will happen if I step any closer,” he says. I inhale sharply.
“Maybe I want you to step closer.”
He shakes his head and bites back a smile. “I should have said this sooner, but I didn’t bring you here to take this further than, well, sleep.” I open my mouth to say something, but stop and wait for him to continue. “This is still part of our date. Tomorrow, the vineyards. We didn’t get to do that last time.”
I stand and walk over to him, stopping when we’re toe-to-toe, and tilt my head to look at him. I reach up, take the hat off his head, and toss it to the floor by the fireplace. “What if I want to take this further than just sleep?”
His face darkens. A slow smile appears over his face as he reaches for me and caresses my cheek softly. “I want to get it right this time, Elle. I don’t want to push you. I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and regret something we do tonight.”
“I won’t,” I whisper, leaning into his touch.
“Last time we slept together, I found you crying over a shirt,” he says, his voice soft and slightly pained.
“That was different.”
“How?” he asks, pushing off the wall and cupping the back of my neck. “Tell me how it was different, because if something happens tonight, it’ll be so much more than just touching. You know that, right? And I mean more than just physically. Even if we only touch or kiss, it’ll be more, and I don’t want you to wake up and feel like you’re cheating or being unfair to his memory.”
I close my eyes, needing to look away from his understanding gaze, away from the love I see in it. He’s right. I know this, and I know he doesn’t deserve to be a regret for me, but the thing is, Oliver has never been a regret. Even when it hurt . . . even when he left. Even when he came back and sliced me open again, he wasn’t a regret because I loved him. Wyatt may not have been the most understanding man—and maybe his ways of making me move past things weren’t perfect—but he did make me understand love for what it was. That’s the little tagline I send off my shattered hearts with. Wyatt was the one who opened my eyes to it, but Oliver was the reason for the hearts and the taglines. He was the one I loved first. He was the one who broke my heart first, and here he is again. For how long this time, I wonder? Does it matter? My heart bleeds.
Kaleidoscope Hearts Page 19
