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“You cut hair?” He raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Yes, why are you so surprised?” I asked.
“Because you never said anything before.”
There were still so many things we didn’t know about each other but we were learning.
“A girl can have some secrets. Would you like me to cut it for you tonight?”
“Exactly how much training do you have?” he asked, skepticism coloring his tone.
“I’m good, I promise. Ty’s mother taught me. She’s a stylist and has been for years. I got so good I did Matthew and Finley’s hair when I was in high school. You know how those two are with their appearance,” I said with pride.
“So, I won’t look like you put a bowl on my head?” He grinned, teasing me.
“Try me.”
“Oh, I definitely plan to try you when we get home,” he said, grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it before tucking it against him.
Oliver led me to the elevator, saying goodnight to a few executives on the way out. They all seemed shocked that he was leaving at 5 p.m. We had been working long hours, and this was one of the few days we left on time.
In the limo, Oliver pulled me onto his lap and hugged me tightly. Something felt off. He didn’t do what he usually did, which was to plant kisses on my throat and chest. He just held me in his arms, his grip firm yet tender.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, resting my head against his shoulder.
He sighed deeply. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Jonah?”
“Yeah, and everything else. It’s been overwhelming lately.”
I hugged him back, trying to offer some comfort. “We’ll get through it, Oliver. Together.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I know. I just need to remind myself of that sometimes.”
“Let’s get married,” he murmured.
“We are getting married.”
“Now.”
The word stole the breath from me. There was definitely something wrong but if I knew Oliver, he wouldn’t tell me.
“Look at me.”
He seemed so vulnerable that I worried he would tell me he had something terminal. He looked up at me and his expression looked so serious.
“I want you to be my wife. I can’t wait.”
I tugged his hair, weaving my fingers in the thick strands. “It’s only seven more months.”
“Seven months too long,” he said, tugging my collar down and pressing a kiss to my skin.
“You agreed to July,” I said.
He lifted his head and nuzzled my nose with his. “I’m impatient. I want you to be Mrs. Fox.”
“I practically am. We live together like we’re married.”
