Page 43 of His To Unravel
“Morning, everyone,” I say, letting my gaze sweep over Carolyn and Sophie before landing on Tyler. Carolyn’s eyes brighten, and she exchanges a look with Sophie—a wordless conversation that radiates approval. No Landon in sight. Small mercies.
“Nathaniel,” Carolyn chirps. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“It’s always a pleasure running into you all,” I reply as I slide in next to Olivia.
“We were just talking about this weekend,” Sophie says, eyesdarting between me and Olivia. “Liv, you seriously need to take a break. Your calendar is packed!”
“I’ll make sure she gets one soon.” I don’t bother to mask the protectiveness in my voice. Sophie’s expression shifts, curiosity blending with something more admiring.
It’s moments like this that cement my place in their world. Every friendly exchange is a brick in the foundation of trust I’m meticulously building.
I glance at Olivia, letting the words settle between us. Her eyes soften, and the corners of her mouth lift in a smile she can’t contain.
“So thoughtful,” Sophie says. “He’s making you look bad, Tyler.”
“Olivia brings out the best in me.” My gaze locks with hers as I reach beneath the table and lace her fingers with mine. A silent reminder that even here, surrounded by those she’s known for far longer, she’smine.
To keep the moment buoyant, I grin at Tyler and add, “Let me know if you ever want to exchange dating tips.”
Olivia’s friends’ laughter feels like the chorus to a song I’m orchestrating, each note playing perfectly into my narrative.
She glances up at me, her eyes wide with a blend of wonder and something deeper—an acknowledgment that I’m no longer on the outside of her life looking in.
Mission accomplished.
“What do you think about hitting Space Cowboy Friday night?” Sophie suggests, bringing the conversation back to the weekend. “Just us girls. Feels like we’ve earned it.”
I lean back, watching Olivia as she animatedly responds. The voices around us blur as my focus sharpens with each laugh and smile she shares. Every second deepens my resolve to maintain this hold—to be the unmovable constant she will turn to, always.
Eventually, everyone disperses and I’m finallyalone with Olivia. I suggest a change of scenery–something about a quieter spot to focus better on our project–but the truth is, I just want more time with her. Her curious smile is all the answer I need.
The airin Halford’s Architectural Archives holds a hushed reverence, a blend of aged leather, parchment, and whispers of forgotten secrets embedded in the towering mahogany bookshelves. The sunlight filters through frosted glass, casting a soft, diffused glow across the room.
I lead Olivia inside, glancing back as she takes in her surroundings. The surprise in her eyes pleases me—this is a space few even know exists.
The polished mahogany table stands like an anchor in the center, its surface gleaming under the antique bronze reading lamps. I choose the chair closest to the window, ensuring I have the perfect view of her as she settles across from me. Her hair catches the light, a halo of copper that my fingers itch to touch.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Olivia says, spinning slowly to take it all in. “How did you even find this place?”
I allow a small, enigmatic smile. “Some corners of Halford have secrets worth uncovering. I wanted to bring you somewhere we’d be…undisturbed.” I pause, letting my gaze settle on her. “This is where I come when I need everything to quiet down…no expectations, no pressure. I thought you might appreciate that too.”
She blinks, caught off guard, then looks down, a faint blush rising to her cheeks as she arranges her notes. The light brush of her fingers over the worn leather cover of her notebook doesn’t escape my notice.
“I—thank you,” she says after a beat, her voice softer now. “That…means more than you know.”
I reach for one of the books I’ve brought and slide it across thetable. As our hands meet, I let the contact linger, the warmth of her skin sparking a familiar, low hum of satisfaction.
“Anything for you,” I reply, meaning it in every way.
We begin working, the quiet punctuated by the faint scratch of pen against paper and the occasional rustle of pages. I keep my attention on her more than the work—noticing the way her brows furrow in concentration, the absentminded way she bites her lower lip when deep in thought. Each observation is a facet that deepens my fixation.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with me lately,” I say. “I hope I’m not monopolizing too much of it.”
Her eyes lift from her notes, a glimmer of amusement softening the seriousness in her gaze. “You’re not,” she assures me. “In fact, I think I’m beginning to like being monopolized.”
The corner of my mouth lifts, satisfaction threading through me. “Good. Because I prefer not to share you.”
The weight of my words hang between us like a drawn breath. Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans in—subtle, but enough for me to feel the shift.
