After a couple of minutes of arguing about whose music we’re going to play—his hip hop or my folk—we end up playing none, because his phone rings and my brother’s voice seeps through the speakers of the car.
“You’re with my sister?” he asks from the get-go.
“Yeah, and you’re on Bluetooth,” Oliver responds.
“Hey, Elle,” Victor says.
“Hey, Vic,” I respond.
“What are you guys up to? Jenson’s in town again and wants to meet up for drinks at the usual bar, want to come?” he asks.
Oliver glances at me from the corner of his eye.
“Is this code for ‘bring her to the bar for a group date so she’ll know you’re not serious about her?’” I ask, raising an eyebrow at Oliver. His mouth drops, a surprised laugh leaving his lips. Victor stays silent for a beat before he joins in on Oliver’s laughter.
“Hell no,” Victor says.
Oliver finds my hand and squeezes it. “Just so we’re clear, this is going to be the complete opposite of that. This will be me saying, ‘I am so serious about this girl. I want to take her everywhere with me, any chance I get,’” he says, looking at me when we reach a red light.
“This is going to be interesting,” Victor mutters. “I’ll save you two seats.”
We laugh once the line is disconnected.
“I want it to be like this, Elle. Always,” he says as he parks in front of the bar. When we get out, he wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his side. “I want to bring you here, and if you decide you don’t want to come, I want to get texts from you that say you miss me.”
I turn to face him when we reach the door. “I want that too,” I respond with a smile.
We walk in with our fingers intertwined, and are greeted with a catcall from Jenson and claps from Victor. We sit down beside each other, talking and laughing the way we always have, but this time freely, and everything feels like it’s finally falling into place.
“YOU’RE SO GOOD with kids. Do you want any?” I ask, as Oliver winds down the road after we leave a charity event at the hospital.
His hand finds mine on my lap, and I sneak a look at his serious face. “Are we starting twenty questions?”
“Maybe,” I say, a smile tugging my lips.
“Can we start in about . . . three minutes?” he says. “How many dates do you think we’ve been on now?”
I frown, trying to figure it out in my head. “I don’t know . . . wow, I really don’t know,” I say quietly. “Definitely more than I bargained for.”
Oliver chuckles. “Nice, Elle. Real nice,” he says, as he turns onto my parents’ street.
“What in the world?” I say in a breath, more to myself than to him. He squeezes my hand and doesn’t respond, only winks as he parks the car in my parents’ driveway. “You know they’re out of town this weekend, right?”
Oliver doesn’t say anything, just gets out of the car and rounds it quickly to open my door. He grabs my hand and looks at me before sighing and placing a kiss on the top of my head. I follow him as he opens the side gate and walks to the back of the house, passing the bathroom where we were last together. He stops when he reaches the back door.
“Go to the kitchen. I left something there,” he says.
I stare at him. “Are you going to climb the tree?”
He chuckles. “Would you stop asking questions until it’s time?”
“Okay,” I say, sounding unconvinced. I unlock the door and open it, heading to the kitchen. I pick up a note card that reads:
I frown at it until I notice a piece of broken, black glass under it. I fight the overwhelming emotions that start building in my chest as I pick it up. I leave the kitchen, and make for the stairs. I lift my foot to take a step, but stop with a gasp when I notice there’s a note card on every step, all beside a piece of broken, black glass.