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I held her in my arms, my face buried in her hair, and believed I might actually be happy. For the first time in months, I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t hurt, I wasn’t afraid. I was just happy.
I didn’t see Holland at work at all Wednesday, but around five o’clock I called down to her office. “You interested in working on your stroke again this evening?”
“Who is this, please?” she joked.
“You know damned well,” I said with mock ferocity.
“I’m interested in working on your stroke.”
My dick stirred and I felt my heart accelerate. This girl. She did things to me. “That can be arranged. We’ll stop by your place and get a few things. You might as well get everything you’ll need for the rest of the week.” It was getting ridiculous sending the car each night.
“I want to, but I can’t, Oliver. I have plans tonight.”
An irrational anger crept through me and I pushed it away. Of course she had plans. This was a girl I’d just met. She had a life before she met me, I couldn’t expect her suddenly to put it aside. “Of course,” I managed.
She laughed. She must’ve picked up on the difficult way the words had come out. “Not those kind of plans. Dinner with Delia. Want to come?”
I thought for a brief second. Meeting her sister—her family—felt like a big step. A good step. “Yes. Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Definitely,” she said. “But I’m gonna need another hour here. Things are a little crazy. I think Trey is punishing me for being promoted. He’s piled proposals on me.”
“Glad to hear our sales team is working so hard. Meet you downstairs at six?”
“Six is good. See you then.”
I tried to work for the next hour, but I was distracted by how suddenly the jealousy had hit me when Holland had mentioned other plans. I spent the time stewing over just how vulnerable I’d suddenly let myself become. Had I let this go too fast? Even as I had the thought, I couldn’t imagine pulling back, going back to the way things were, to the darkness and loneliness of my life. I let myself stare out the window for the better part of the hour and felt relief wash over me when it was almost six o’clock. I stepped from my office, surprised to see Pamela still at her desk.
“Good night, Pamela,” I said, flashing her a smile.
Her eyes widened in surprise and then she smiled, shaking her head.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said, gathering some papers together on her desk. “It’s just nice to see you smiling again. If I had to guess, I’d put money on a woman being involved somehow.” She raised an eyebrow.
“Never place bets without data, Pamela. Working here should have taught you that much.”
“I’ve got data,” she said mysteriously. “Have a good night, Oliver.”
I stared at her for one more second and then turned to go. Pamela was good people. Something about her told me she was strong in a crisis, and that she knew more about the inner workings of Cody Tech than she’d ever let on.
I went down to the lobby to wait for Holland and found myself standing in front of the photos again, Adam’s smile beaming down from the photograph I’d asked Pamela to remove. It still bothered me, seeing him there, knowing that when that photo had been taken, he’d been keeping a secret so critical and big it had the power to redefine everything I knew about myself. It was different looking up at him this time, though. For a long time I couldn’t look at the photo at all. Then I’d managed to glare at it, raw fury rising in my chest each time I’d passed. Now I felt mostly sadness. I missed the man who had shaped my life, the man I’d believed to be my father. And while the pain of missing him was like a barrage of soft blows to my heart now, and still painful—the searing anger was missing, and it was a relief to have it dissipating. I stared up at Adam until Holland found me there and smiled at me, tapping me on the shoulder and nodding toward the front door.
—
“So,” I said as Holland and I buckled into my car to head to her sister’s house. “What exactly did you tell Delia about me?”
“That you’re a huge asshole, mostly.”
“So she’s eager to meet me, then.”
“Of course.” Holland grinned at me and laid her head back against the seat as I eased the car out of the parking garage. “Actually, I told her I felt like maybe I was losing my mind.”
“What?”
Holland’s voice got low and husky, and she leaned in as she said, “I told her I didn’t know what was happening between us. That I can’t stop thinking about you. That it’s the worst possible time in my life to meet someone so…distracting…” She dropped a nervous laugh then as I put a hand on her thigh.
“What did she say to that?” I asked, glancing at her for a second as I drove.
