Page 77 of The One I Need
“How do you know?” Amelia asks. “She hasn’t said a thing.”
Betsy picks up her drink and takes a sip, looking very pleased with herself. “Because I know the look you give to a man who’s made you forget words. And that look she just gave can only mean that our Izzy has called out to gods she doesn't believe in because of our sweet and beloved Oliver.”
I smile and tip my drink to her. “Let’s put it this way, if the mothers at Rolling Hills Elementary knew what that man was like in the bedroom he’d need a security detail outside his door.”
“I don’t want to hear this,” Amelia says, covering her ears. Which of course makes Betsy and I laugh.
“Welcome to the club, Izzy,” Betsy says. “I think you’re going to fit in with us just fine.”
Chapter26
Izzy
“Why wasI scared to meet your friends again?”
“I’m not sure,” Oliver says as he pulls his car out of the parking lot. “Probably because you like to psych yourself out about situations that you didn’t have forty-eight hours to prepare for, and you always think the glass is half empty.”
I start to answer back, but I don’t, because he’s right. On everything.
“When did you get to know me so well?”
“Probably sometime between when I found out what your lunch order was and when I realized that you don’t own any clothing with color.”
“Hey!” I say, looking down at my all-black outfit. “I own colorful stuff.”
“The gold dress you wore to the wedding doesn’t count.”
“I have more,” I say. Though now as I mentally think about the options in my closet, I can’t seem to think of any.
“Exactly. Face it. I know just about everything there is to know about you.”
“No, you don’t,” I say. “There are plenty of things about me that you don’t know.”
“Really?” he asks as he turns onto his street. “Well, then I think since we’re going to be married for the next sixty days, and plan on being friends long after everything is finalized, I feel like we should put all the cards on the table.”
I know Oliver means this playfully—like he wants to know what my top milkshake flavors are—but my mind immediately goes to the things I don’t tell anyone. I’ve come so close to telling Oliver, but I knew I needed to keep them to myself. But the more these conversations pop up, the more I worry that pretty soon I’m going to slip.
“Not tonight,” I say as he pulls into his driveway where my car is parked. “It’s late, and I have an early morning. I should get back to Nashville.”
He turns off the car and gives me a look I’m guessing he uses on his students when he wants them to tell the truth. “I’ll give you that it’s late. But it’s Friday. You don’t have to work tomorrow, and I remember you telling me earlier that you couldn’t wait for this weekend to, and I quote, do jack shit.”
How dare this man use my own words against me?
“I don’t have pajamas or a toothbrush.”
“Izzy, I have a T-shirt, which due to our pre-wedding trip, I know is your preferred mode of sleep attire. Also, because I’m an adult, I have a spare toothbrush that can be yours. I’ll even get out my label maker and put your name on it.”
“You own a label maker?”
“Yup. See, one more thing you’ve learned about me. Let’s go.”
I let out a groan as I open the car door and walk into Oliver’s house. Every time I come here, I find something else that just makes me smile, because this house is so Oliver. From the light blue paint, to the plants, to the bowl of Skittles that’s always on his coffee table, this house is Oliver through and through.
Take the pictures on the wall. The first time I came over and saw them, I think I stared at them for hours. I mean, the pictures in and of themselves don’t surprise me. It’s Oliver, after all. But the fact that he took the time to print, frame, and hang them in a perfect display is what puts it over the top. There are pictures of him and the guys. Some from classes over the years he’s taught. There’s one of him and his mom next to a birthday cake that melts my cold, dead heart every time I see it. Maybe because they are so happy. Maybe because they are wearing those silly, pointy birthday hats. I don’t know. But I can’t help but smile every time I see it.
“That was from her sixtieth birthday party,” he says, coming to stand next to me. “She had just retired from teaching and had decided that day she was going to take her first of what was going to be many road trips.”
“She seems great,” I say.
