Page 49 of The One I Need
He looks out the window, then turns to smile at me—a mischievous smile that usually means he has an idea I’m not going to like. “Well, then, I know the first thing we’re going to do. Juanita! Can you stop up here for a second?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Oliver!”
Juanita, also known as Oliver’s new best friend after he made small talk with her at the airport, pulls to a stop, and I look to see where we are. I should have guessed.
“The Fabulous Las Vegas sign?”
“Yup. We’re taking a picture.”
I shake my head. “No, we’re not.”
Oliver shoots me a look I’d guess he gives his first graders on a regular basis. “And why not?”
“Because,” I say, though I don’t really know why. “Because I don’t want to. And there are a bunch of tourists and it will take forever.”
There. Those are pretty good reasons.
“Nope,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me across the backseat of the SUV. “We’re doing it.”
I moan and groan, but eventually exit the car. One thing I’ve learned about Oliver is he loves taking pictures. Selfies, posed, random things, his food. The man captures everything. Then there’s me. The only pictures I have on my phone are of my niece and nephew, one of Hazel and I from I don’t even remember when, and now a few photos of Oliver and I that he sent me. The first from our day at the farmers’ market, a random one he took some night when he came over because we were both bored, and then one this morning when we made it to the airport.
“Why do you like taking pictures so much?”
He looks at the sign, then down to me. “It’s all about the moments. I want to have my life documented so one day I can sit around with my grandkids and tell them about all the things I got to do. Tell them about all the people I loved and who helped make me the man I am. I don’t want to miss a thing. And I damn sure don’t want to forget one.”
Oliver has this way about him that makes me feel inspired, and yet also makes me feel like I really am a soulless bitch, all at the same time.
I think about his words. Do I have any experiences I wish I would have documented? The sad thing is, I can’t think of any. Sure, there are fun moments with Hazel that I would have liked to relive in picture form, but all in all, I can’t think of a single one. Have I really become that closed off? I mean, I know I’m a workaholic with no social life. But I think at some point that went from a defense mechanism to simply becoming who I am.
That is, until fucking Oliver Price asked me to dance with him. Now here I am, taking pictures and going to fucking farmers’ markets. I bet he’s going to make me see a show this weekend.
“Our turn!” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the sign.
“A little over to the left,” Juanita says, who somehow got Oliver’s phone when I was in my own thoughts. “Oh, come on, Miss Izzy. Show me that smile. You’re in Vegas, baby!”
Oliver wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me so close that I don’t have a choice but to also put my hand around his. “Come on. Smile. I have a feeling we’re going to want to remember this trip for the rest of our lives.”
* * *
“Holy shit…”
I look over to Oliver, whose eyes are wide and unblinking as we walk into Caesars Palace.
“All right, I’m going to go check in,” I say to Oliver, who is still taking in every inch of beauty that is the Caesars’ lobby. “You…well, just don’t run away.”
He nods and waves me off as I make my way to the line. I have a few seconds, so I shoot off a message to Hazel. She and Knox flew in last night so they could have an entire day just for themselves.
Izzy: In the lobby. What room are you?
Hazel: 1811. How was the flight?
Izzy: Fine.
Hazel: How’s Oliver?
I look over my shoulder, where I see Oliver taking a picture of every angle of the fountain.
Izzy: He made me take a picture at the Vegas sign.
