Page 62 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
He didn’t even want to think about what Puja would say.
“Hey,” the driver said, looking in the rearview mirror. “Do I know you? I’m Ricky. I think I’ve driven you before.”
“Not in the mood, sorry,” Oliver said.
“Rough night?” Ricky asked.
“You can’t even imagine.” Oliver scrubbed his face with his hands.
From the moment Chloe walked into the gala, he should have left, or at least put up his guard and ensured that things stayed platonic. He’d known she was there with a date, so he never should have asked her to dance. He never should have invited her up to the rooftop, deceiving himself along the way that being alone up there was safer than dancing with her in a room full of other people.
He had wanted all of it, though. Chloe had been on his mind almost nonstop since he ran into her in Little Tokyo, and the dress shopping at Bergdorf’s had made it worse.
Then there was the fact that she knew who he was now. And that there were sixteen years of pain and longing left unaddressed.
Oliver’s stomach roiled. He moaned and rolled down the window.
“Are you feeling sick?” Ricky asked. “Do you want me to pull over?”
“I’ll be… fine. Just, please, get me home.”
Then Oliver looked away and focused on the flow of fresh air coming in from outside.
Safely on stable ground and in his apartment, Oliver suddenly felt an overwhelming need to call Chloe. He had to apologize—for the dance, for almost kissing her, for bringing the past back from the dead.
But he didn’t have her number.
Why had he tried so hard to keep distance between them? Why hadn’t he confessed to who he was from the start? Maybe if he’d been up front, none of this mess would have happened.
If only he could talk to her like they used to…
Oh.
What if Chloe’s number was the same as when they were teens, when they’d bought their first phones together?
Oliver had never met a number he didn’t remember. Especially the important ones.
He held his breath as he dialed the familiar 785 area code.
The phone rang. And rang some more.
But then the voicemail kicked in… and it was Chloe’s voice.
Oliver exhaled.
Their connection wasn’t severed after all; it had been there all this time. Perhaps in the back of his mind, he’d always known this but had blocked it out like he’d done to so much of the past.
Now, though, Oliver tried calling several more times, although with the same results.
Then he realized Chloe might not be able to answer if she was still with Zac—the thought of them together made him ill all over again—so Oliver stopped trying to call.
Still, he couldn’t leave the night where it had ended. So he texted.
Oliver:Clo, it’s me. Oliver… I’m sorry about everything. All of it.
A thought bubble appeared immediately, indicating Chloe typing. Did that mean shewasn’twith Zac? Hope rose in Oliver’s chest.
Chloe:I’m sorry that Zac attacked you. But tonight was a lot, and I need some space to think. OK?
