Page 132 of We Met Like This
“This isn’t some movie set,” I said.
She groaned. “Fine, get out of here.”
Oliver held out his hand for me and I took it. He held on tight as we walked and a fuzzy warmth spread up my arms.Outside, the trees around the coffee shop were being trimmed by a man in a large hat and an orange vest. The smell of freshly cut grass hung in the air. I took a sip of my tea and the liquid trailed a cool path down my throat.
Oliver turned toward me with a questioning head tilt. “Where are we going?”
“My place is closer.” Which reminded me. “Why are you here?” This wasn’t the closest coffee shop to his house.
He ran a slow thumb over my palm as he continued to hold my hand. “This is where I go for coffee now.”
“Really?” I said. “The one closest to my house?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I wanted to see you, if only for a minute.”
“And what if I want to see you for more than a minute?” I asked.
“Do you?” he asked. “Canyou forgive me?”
We stopped next to his car, which was parked along the curb, and he opened the passenger door for me.
“My car is in the parking lot,” I said. “Meet me at my house?”
“Can I drive you? Please.”
I smiled. “Are you worried I’m going to change my mind?”
“I’m not even sure which side of the aisle your mind is on yet,” he said.
I thought the swiping right and the hand-holding and the inviting him to my house made things pretty clear, but maybe he sensed the lingering bits of hesitancy I still possessed about my sister and how this would make her feel. And yet as I stood here, staring at him, I knew that when all was said and done, this was my choice to make, not hers, and I chose Oliver. I chose me.
I took a step closer to him, the car door he held openbetween us. I grabbed hold of the top of the doorframe and pushed myself up on my toes. “Does this make things clearer?” I asked, inches from his mouth.
He smirked. “A little.”
I let our lips touch for a brief moment. “And that?”
“That helps,” he said.
“Take me home,” I said. “And we can show each other exactly where we stand.” I stepped into his car, tucked my drink into the holder in the middle console, and clicked my seat belt into place.
On the drive, he never let go of my hand, even though at times it made driving difficult.
“Did you sell a book?” he asked. “In the coffee shop.”
With Oliver showing up when he did, my brain hadn’t processed that yet. “Almost,” I said. “He’ll have to convince an acquisitions board, but I think there’s a good chance. It’s the AI book.”
“Wait. Kari Cross?” he said. “You’re Kari’s agent?”
I nodded, a goofy smile taking over my face. “Yes, I am.”
“She’s lucky to have you. What about Rob?”
“Rob is working on letting her go.” I still got one text a day from him, full of threats. “He hasn’t read one of her books in four years.”
Oliver blew a huff of air out his nose. “Do you wish I would’ve punched him? I really wish I would’ve punched him.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t. He would’ve pressed charges.”
