Victor whistles. “Damn, three nights in a row? Do I get to meet the bastard any time soon? Did you tell him your brother is a lawyer, has a gun, and knows a lot of people in law enforcement?”
“I’m going to Mom’s house, doofus,” I say, shaking my head. I look behind him when he moves toward the refrigerator, and catch Oliver’s eyes.
“We need to talk,” he mouths. I nod in agreement and signal him to call me before I turn to leave.
An hour and 100 holiday cards folded and put in envelopes later, I go upstairs to check my phone. Seeing a missed call from Oliver, I call him back.
“Where are you?” he asks after the phone rings once.
“My parents.”
“I’m on my way.”
“What? No,” I say, looking around at the mess I managed to make in less than ten minutes of being in my old room.
“Leave your window unlocked.”
“Oliver! We’re not teenagers. How are you going to climb a tree?”
“Are you calling me old?” he asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“If the shoe fits.”
“It doesn’t,” he says in a little growl that makes me laugh, despite myself.
“Are you saying you have small feet?”
“Are you telling me you need me to remind you that I don’t?”
Somehow, I manage a laugh over my stuttering heart. “Fine. I’ll leave the window unlocked.”
What feels like hours later, Oliver climbs into my window and settles in beside me in bed, pulling me so that my back is to his chest.
“You took forever,” I whisper.
“I took ten minutes.”
“It seemed like forever.”
“It always does when I’m not with you,” he murmurs, pulling me into him.
“You said you couldn’t compete against my job,” he says against my neck. “And I agree. Is that the only part you can’t do?”
I breathe out loudly. “That and the part where we have an amazing weekend together, and then you leave me. I don’t have it in me to let you in completely and then lose you. But I did, Oliver. I let you in completely this time, despite my reservations,” I respond, closing my eyes.
It seems like we’ve done this song and dance a million times before. Yet, here we are, and I realize that I’d rather let history repeat itself because the other option—the one where I live life without the way he makes me feel when I’m with him—seems like it’s missing everything I need. If this is love . . . real love . . . like I’ve always thought, it’s nothing more than a vicious game of Russian roulette. The gun clicks when it comes to you, and you cringe in anticipation that this may just be the last breath you take, but then it continues on, until the next round . . . and the next. Then there’s that one time when it clicks and hits you, and you just can’t walk away.
“And I’m thankful for that, Estelle. I really am.” He exhales. “I wish I had all the answers. I wish I knew what tomorrow would bring, so that this wouldn’t be so difficult.”
“I don’t care what it will bring, Oliver.”
“You do, Elle. You can lie to yourself and say you don’t, and that you just want to have fun and take what you can when you can, but you do care.”
I pause. “You date women and never get involved in anything serious. All my brother talks about is how easy it is for you to walk away, and how little you care when they do, so why do you care when it comes to me?”
He drops a kiss on my shoulder and settles his face into my neck. “If I get offered a job I want, I’ll tell you, and we can figure out what to do together, okay? I don’t climb into windows, Elle. I don’t do chasing. I don’t go out of my way to explain my decisions to women I date. If they don’t like something about me, they’re free to go, as am I. I think the fact that I’m here right now says a lot.”
“I know it does,” I whisper.
“So you believe me when I tell you that I care?” he murmurs against the back of my shoulder.
“I do believe you, and I don’t want you worried about me when you go up there next week.” I doubt he would be worried about me. When he gets his game face on, he does a good job at tuning everything else out, but I figure I should say the words out loud anyway. I feel myself begin to pull back, gathering the scattered notions of hope I’ve been putting into this thing between us.
He lets out a heavy sigh and wraps his legs over mine, his face in my neck, and his arms around my middle . . . and that’s how we spend the night. But even though I’m wrapped up in my favorite little nook, I get little sleep. The only thing I can think about is how I’m in too deep, as usual, and I know I won’t make it out unscathed.