by Emily Blythe
The truth was, I wanted to be interested in someone like Javier. He seemed like he should be perfect for me. But he just . . . wasn’t. Maybe the kind of person you expected you should be with wasn’t the one that you should really end up with.
Maybe, somehow, Oliver could be the perfect person for me, even if he wasn’t a perfect person all around.
I stared up at the tent above me. I knew what I needed to do, but I wasn’t sure that I would be able to. Chasing after Oliver, leaving behind this project and Africa, tarnishing my reputation—all so that I could chase a man—was nothing like me.
But I also knew that it was my turn to chase Oliver. He had put up with my back and forth for so long. And he had admitted that I’d changed him, that I was the reason he had gotten so involved in these aid projects.
It was time for me to prove to him that I could change. That I could be less judgmental, less of a perfectionist. That I could love him for who he was and not who I wanted him to be.
Wait—Love? Could I really be in love with Oliver Lewin? Could that be why this whole relationship with him has been tearing me up inside? Why I couldn’t seem to shake him no matter what I was doing or where I was—even if it was on the other side of the world.
I swallowed hard and then rolled off my cot, grabbed my duffel and packed quickly. There was no time to waste.
As I waited for the plane to take off, I stared down at the address that Oliver’s secretary had given me. I had actually been surprised that the information was that easy to get—but apparently Oliver had put me on some list that meant I had access to information that the press and other random people didn’t.
I wondered if that had been before or after Oliver had realized a relationship with me wasn’t going to work out. I swallowed hard, still wondering if maybe he had left so quickly because of the confrontation that he and I had had. I hated to think that I had driven him off. He’d seemed so excited, so invested in the project.
But then again, I knew that I hadn’t driven him off. I remembered the phone call during our date, the way that he’d run off when we’d gone antiquing. He had probably gotten some call and he had run off. Again.
I hoped so, anyway.
Either way, I was frustrated that he had disappeared, even if he had finished up everything that he had come to Africa to do. I tried to tell myself that it was always the same with him, no matter how much I thought he might be changing. He always disappeared, let himself be drawn back into business over everything else.
But I knew it wasn’t fair to make that assumption. For all I knew, he had a reason for disappearing like that.
Now the question was, what did I want?
The more I thought about it, the more I knew that I didn’t want Javier. I had known that for a couple weeks now. I didn’t even want the life that I was building there in Africa—always nomadic, always lonely. I was helping people, but I wasn’t having the same impact that I’d had when I worked for Le Monde Ensemble. I didn’t feel satisfied with this in the way that I’d expected to.
And that—I supposed—was why I was on a flight back to New York.
It felt like giving up, I couldn’t deny that. I hadn’t even been gone for two months, and here I was. I wondered what people would think about me. To my credit, this wasn’t my first aid project—it wasn’t even the first aid project I had worked on that year. I had still done more than a lot of people managed to do, in terms of helping people. And I would do more.
For now, I thought maybe I’d give myself a little personal time, but I needed to go back to New York first. I wouldn’t be able to focus on myself until I had figured out whatever it was that was happening between Oliver and I.
The truth was, I felt silly for running off around the world to go find Oliver. This wasn’t like me. But that was exactly what made me think that maybe Oliver was the right guy for me. I remembered how different my parents had been; Oliver was certainly my opposite. That was what made things fun between us. He brought out a side of me that work never did—a side of me that wasn’t so serious, that wasn’t only focused on the future. He made me want to forget about other people for a moment and try to make myself happy.
It had been a while, I realized, since I was really happy. My work was fulfilling and, objectively, I had everything that I wanted in life. But there had always been something missing.
Javier hadn’t been happy, either, when I told him that I was leaving. He’d accused me of running after Oliver, of turning my back on my commitments. But I’d known that I wasn’t able to give my all to the project the way that I needed to. I couldn’t seem to focus in the week since Oliver had left, and everyone had noticed it. Of course, no one really knew what to make of it—most people just assumed I must had some sort of bug, that an illness must be affecting my enthusiasm.
When I’d explained that I had something back home that I needed to take care of, people had been surprisingly supportive. I wondered what they thought I was going back for. It was no secret that I had no family to head back to, but no one asked any questions.
I took a deep breath and leaned back, letting my eyes slip shut as we took off.
When I arrived in New York, I hailed a cab and asked him to take me the address that Oliver’s secretary had given me. I felt kind of silly, not even knowing if Oliver would be there. But I just had to know what the address was, why it was apparently someplace that Oliver went so frequently.
When I got out of the cab, I was standing in front of a public hospital. I grew even more intrigued, wondering if maybe Oliver was continuing his humanitarian streak back home by volunteering at a local hospital. I walked inside and to the reception desk.
“I’m looking for Oliver Lewin,” I told the secretary.
She raised an eyebrow at me. “You and everyone else, sweetheart,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What are you, the latest in tabloid journalism? They sent you here to bother him even at the hospital?”
“No!” I told her. “I don’t know what he’s doing here. He just asked me to meet him here.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at me for a moment and then called someone on the phone. She gave whoever was on the other end a brief description of me, including my name when I handed her my ID. Then, she hung up, nodding at me. “Room two eleven,” she said.
I thanked her and headed upstairs. When I poked my head into 211, I found Oliver there, sat at the bedside of a young woman who looked strikingly similar to him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Oliver stood up when I entered the room, looking surprised. “Sophia,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
The woman in the bed smiled wanly. “Sophia,” she said in a weak voice, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Oliver glanced down at the woman and stroked her hair back. “Lauren, I just wish you could be feeling better when you finally got to meet her,” he sighed. He looked over at me. “This is my sister, Lauren.”
I didn’t know what to say. My eyes fell to the tapestry of the elephants, which was hung up on the wall over her bed. “I see you liked the gift,” I said, gesturing helplessly.
Lauren smiled, her eyes opening briefly again. “It was perfect,” she said. “I don’t know if he ever told you the story, but when I first went into the hospital, when I was little, Oliver told me I had to be strong like an elephant to get through this. Now, I make him hang that up over my bed any time I end up in here.”
I blinked over at Oliver, seeing him in a new light. I had been able to tell that he cared about his sister, of course. Every time he brought her up in conversation, there had been something about his words that was gentle and sweet. I hadn’t really been able to imagine the player that the tabloids and the rest of the world saw as this kind, caring older brother. Seeing the two of them together . . .
I could feel tears prick my eyes; I was at a loss for words. Why was his sister here, in the hospital? I suddenly understood why he wanted to keep her out
of the public eye, but that meant that none of my research had prepared me for what was going on with the woman. Was it terminal? Would Oliver lose another family member like he had lost his parents?
I just had no idea what to even say.
Oliver petted his sister’s hair again. “You should take a nap, Lauren,” he said gently.
Lauren looked like she wanted to protest, but her eyes slid shut.
Oliver breathed out a sigh and turned toward me, looking nervous. “She’s usually a lot more talkative than this,” he said quietly. “I bet when she’s feeling better, she’ll have a thousand questions for you.” He paused. “If I had realized you would be coming by today, I wouldn’t have talked her all out before you got here.”
I stared open-mouthed at him. “She . . . is she okay?” I asked after a moment.
“She will be,” Oliver said, his voice fierce. He paused. “We should talk outside. I don’t want to disturb her.”
“Okay,” I said, following his lead.
In the hallway, Oliver leaned against the wall, staring at me. He was clearly waiting for an explanation as to what I was doing there. I couldn’t seem to get beyond what I had just seen in the hospital room.
“I wanted to talk to you again in Africa,” I finally said. “But you left without saying goodbye.”
Oliver inclined his head to me. “I didn’t want to leave Africa the way that I did,” he admitted. “Lauren has epilepsy. I got a call in the middle of the night that she had had a particularly bad seizure and they couldn’t get her to wake up. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would feel if anything happened to her while I was a whole continent away. That’s what my helicopter was doing waiting for me, anyway.” He paused. “Besides, I thought we’d said everything that we needed to say to one another.”
“Must be nice to have all that money and just have a helicopter on standby in case you need to leave in a hurry,” I said, rolling my eyes. But I couldn’t keep the fondness out of my voice.
“I basically raised Lauren,” Oliver said sadly. “I love her to pieces. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her.”
“I can see why you had to come back,” I told him. “And why you couldn’t stop to talk to me about it.”
“What about you, though?” Oliver asked. “You’re back in New York now?”
I bit my lower lip. “I realized that I haven’t exactly been fair to you,” I admitted. “I’ve been so afraid to open myself up to you that I convinced myself that things would never work out between us anyway. I convinced myself that you were some heartless rich guy who was only interested in relief projects insofar as they could help clean up your reputation or help you get women into bed.”
Oliver gave me a look. “I’m glad to know you think so highly of me,” he said.
“But none of it’s true,” I hurried to say. “Well, I mean, you are some rich guy. But you’re far from heartless. You really do care about the projects that you’re investing in. Maybe more than some of the people volunteering on them.” I meant it as a joke, but Oliver continued to give me the same neutral stare, and after a moment, I felt my smile slip away.
“I never listened to you,” I said softly. “I didn’t know about Lauren. Or about the aid company that you had bought. I just let my entire opinion of you be built on what I heard in the tabloids or from Jeri. And I’m sorry for that.”
Oliver was silent for a long moment. “It’s nice to hear you say that,” he said finally. “But we had our chance at a making us into . . . something. Clearly it didn’t work out.”
“I was hoping we could try again,” I admitted. “I want to come back to New York. Maybe take some personal time, leave Linda in charge for a bit. But I can help so many more people through Le Monde than I can when I’m slogging away using my hands to build roads and schools. I guess you probably feel the same with your investments.”
“And you want to try again,” Oliver said flatly.
“Unless there’s someone else?” I asked, feeling a stab of fear in my heart. I had been gone from New York for a while, plenty long enough for Oliver to find someone new . . .
“There isn’t someone else,” Oliver said, and my heart resumed beating. “But I just don’t see what would be different about this time. I’m glad that you understand that I’m not—what did you call me, a heartless rich guy? But you can’t build a relationship off that either. If you’re still looking for the perfect guy, someone just like you—someone like Javier—“
“But I’m not,” I interrupted. “That’s the thing. Javier and I . . . I just wasn’t interested. He wasn’t passionate in the way that you are. He didn’t have things that interested him, not really. He just did what he thought the right thing was. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but . . .” I trailed off with a frown, frustrated by my inability to explain what had seemed so clear to me on the flight.
Before I could attempt to continue, someone cleared their throat just behind us, and Oliver spun around, his cheeks flaming. “Dr. Kennedy,” he said.
The doctor smiled at him. “Oliver. Sorry to interrupt the two of you, but I was just finishing up my shift, and I wanted to update you on Lauren’s condition before I went home. She’s looking good, and all her vitals are returning to normal. Obviously, she needs rest, but she should be ready to return home in a day or two.”
“That’s great news,” Oliver said. I could practically see the weight lifted off his shoulders.
“I want you to go home and get some rest,” Dr. Kennedy said sternly. “She’s going to need her big brother there to help her out as soon as we release her. You should clear your work schedule for the rest of the week.”
Oliver laughed and shook his head, and I could tell that this wasn’t the first time they’d had this exchange. “I’ll do that,” he said, waving as the doctor said goodbye and walked away down the hallway. He looked back over at me, still looking relieved. “Do you want to get coffee? There’s a great little place around the corner . . .”
I was surprised by the offer, but I supposed he must be feeling really happy about what the doctor had said—and really in need of coffee, if he’d been there as long as I was guessing he had. “I’d love to,” I told him. I smiled and let him lead me down the corridor.
“So what do you plan to do with this personal time that you’re thinking of taking?” Oliver asked as we walked.
I shook my head. “To be honest, I haven’t had enough free time in the past, oh, a decade or so? I don’t even know what I like.” I glanced over at him. “But maybe you have some ideas of how I could occupy my time?”
Oliver stared at me for a moment, and I realized he wanted me to work for it.
I cleared my throat, feeling a light blush sweep across my features. I had never asked a guy out before, I realized. Who knew it could be so difficult?
“Maybe you’d let me take you out on a date sometime,” I suggested.
Oliver continued to watch me closely, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say no. But then he smiled broadly at me and draped an arm around my shoulders. “Well, I think I’ve had enough of Central African food for the moment, but I know this little Greek place that just opened that’s supposed to be really good . . .”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “You can pick the place when you ask me out on a date,” I told him mock-seriously, reminded of that first date we’d been on and the way that we’d quibbled over the bill. That seemed like ages ago now.
Oliver laughed. “Deal,” he said. Then, he paused. “So are you back in New York for good, then?”
I grimaced. “I know it probably looks bad that I quit the project, but I just realized it wasn’t what I—“
“I’m not criticizing you,” Oliver said.
I paused and then smiled shyly up at him. “Well, I was thinking that I might stay around New York for a while,” I told him. “Although I wouldn’t be opposed to a weekend away here or there . . . I imagine there’s a lot that we could get up to
, just laying around . . .”
Oliver laughed and squeezed my hip. “I imagine there is,” he said seriously. “Maybe we could start with that right now . . . You know, my apartment isn’t very far away . . .”
I sighed, even though I liked the idea of that. “I can’t promise that I’m going to be the best girlfriend that you’ve ever had,” I told him. “I’ve never really done something like this before . . . I . . . I . . . love you, in ways that I never really expected to. On top of that, you’re . . . You’re so infuriating sometimes. I think the reason things are so good between us is because we are so different, but—“
“You love me?,” Oliver interrupted, turning me around to face him. He smiled down at me, tucking a lock of hair back behind my ear. “You know that I don’t have much experience in the dating department either. But I have known for a long time now that I fucking can’t get enough of you. I just didn’t know it was love until . . . well, that night at the diner, when I thought I’d never see you again . . .” he said sincerely.
I’d never smiled so hard that I thought my face might crack—but this was it. I didn’t think I could ever feel as content as I did in that moment. He loved me. But I also wanted him to understand.
“You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that,” I blushed. “But, it’s not just the experience thing,” I told him. I took a deep breath. “I need this. I think you know that. I know you said in Africa that you wanted to try to make some changes, but I need to as well. I’ve been so serious for so long—so focused on my work. And I don’t regret that, but I think maybe it’s time to . . . relax a little. To figure out what I really want in my life.” I paused. “My parents always wanted me to have a family.”
Oliver raised both eyebrows. “Are we talking about having kids already?” he asked.
“No!” I said quickly—but Oliver was laughing, and I realized he’d only been teasing me. I rolled my eyes and lightly punched his arm. “Come on, I’m serious. We need to talk about these things. The key to a good relationship is good communication.”
