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I watched him, looking for traces of that sad, lost man I’d met before, looking for Hale—the man I’d allowedfurther into my life than anyone in the past few years. Oliver was regal and confident—he met my eye every now and then, and in those split seconds I got a quick impression of Hale. I felt him more than saw him, but it was a small comfort, and it made me forget how angry I was at him.
Oliver finished up, and I was glad he’d come when the assembled baseball executives began volleying him with questions about the technology. He handled the questions gracefully, and by the time he’d finished, he’d somehow managed to make it seem like this was a done deal, like baseball had no real choice but to implement this technology, though nothing had been signed yet. It was an impressive tactic, one I hoped I might be able to emulate someday. If nothing else, this shinier version of Hale could teach me a hell of a lot, though I wasn’t sure how much I’d be hanging out with the CEO of my company now that I knew the truth. And once this presentation was over, would there be any need for us to hang out, anyway?
We spent another half hour shaking hands and discussing follow-up documentation and the next meeting, and I struggled with warring emotions. I was furious with Oliver for lying to me. Why had he perpetuated the lie for so long? I was also almost gleeful about the way the meeting had gone. What would this mean for my future? Would it be the ticket to move up that I’d been counting on? Or had Oliver smashed that possibility just by being who he is?
“Nailed it,” Oliver whispered as we slid out the front doors of the building into the streaming sunlight of the parking lot. His hand dropped to the small of my back and Ilooked up at him. He wore a bright, happy smile, the first of its kind I’d seen on his face since we’d met. Business clearly agreed with him.
“Thanks to you,” I allowed, hoping my complete confusion didn’t affect my voice. I felt a fresh wave of anger and confusion overtake me as he turned the smile to me and we stopped walking for a moment.
“Your idea,” he said. “Holland . . . this could be a really big deal for the company. It could . . .” He rubbed a hand across his jaw, glancing around the parking lot as if searching for words. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” he said.
I nodded. That was kind of an understatement. “I get it. The company has been vulnerable. This will help.”
He watched me speak, and I had the feeling he was taking in more than I wanted him to. He opened his mouth to answer, and I cut him off.
“If you’ll drop me at home, I can get my car to head into the office.”
“I thought we might take a few minutes and talk. Maybe grab some coffee? Not at work, though.” Hope lit the dark eyes, but I was too confused to spend another minute with him. I needed some time to think through all that had happened.
I shook my head and turned toward the car. “I’d better just get back to work. I missed Friday,” I reminded him. “And no one knew about this meeting.”
“Worried you’ll be in trouble?” He almost laughed as he unlocked the doors and pulled mydoor open for me.
I shot him a look. “Yes, actually. Some of us need our jobs and can’t just disappear for months at a time.”
Oliver didn’t answer, but his mouth closed and he shut my door and slid into the car on the other side without a word. We drove to my apartment in a strained silence, and I pushed the door open almost before he could pull to a full stop out front.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t truthful,” he said.
I sensed he wanted to say more, but I just shook my head. I couldn’t talk. I needed time to think. I was out of the car, reaching in for my bag when he added, “You did well today. I’ll see you at the office, Holland.” His voice had turned sad, all the executive authority drained from it.
“Bye,” I said, turning and escaping into my building.
I didn’t take long to think at home, just paced around inside for a few minutes. Oliver had already changed so many things in my life that even my apartment reminded me of him now. I couldn’t look at my frilly pink bedroom without hearing him call me “duchess” or remembering all that had happened in there. And the piles of notes on which he’d written and doodled as we’d worked that weekend were stacked on my table. His number hung from the corkboard. Everywhere I looked, he was there.
The bigger issue was his presence in my mental space. My mind couldn’t seem to turn around without running into an image of him, a recollection of him presenting or the way he’d held me close on the Ferris wheel. Or the way his face had cleared as he’d come, braced over me on my bed. I’dallowed him so far into my mind and my life that I couldn’t get a clear corner in which to think anymore.
Frustration hissed out of me in a sigh as I gathered my things and headed to work.
Once back at my desk, I paged through the notes I’d written in my spiral notebook from the last sales status meeting, looking for the action items from this morning’s meeting at MLB. In my almost illegible handwriting I’d jotted:CEO situation, potential acquisition?Trey had said this a couple weeks ago and I’d pushed it aside in my worry over my own goals and plans. My mind snapped to Oliver. In my anger about the lie of omission he’d told me, I’d managed to forget everything I knew about the CEO of my company prior to realizing he’d been in my bed. I’d managed to forget what had happened so recently to his parents. I dropped my head into my hands.Oh God.No wonder he flipped like a switch between arrogance and that desperate sadness and vulnerability.
I tried to keep calm as my brain chased that reality down a rabbit hole, replaying every conversation I’d had with Hale in the context of this tragedy. It had been only a couple months since the accident when I’d met him, I thought, as I tried to remember everything. No wonder he had been a disaster. All the sadness and pain that haunted those deep eyes made sense now. And then I remembered the conversation we’d had at lunch:I was adopted, actually. But I’ve only found that out recently.When did he find out? Right before they died? Did he find out after they died?
Oh God. Poor Oliver. The anger I’d felt over hislie dissipated in the face of my sympathy for what he’d been going through.
I reached for the phone on my desk, but then thought better of it. I stood to go find him, but Trey stepped in front of my desk, a question on his lips.
“Where were you this morning?” he asked.
“Client call,” I replied automatically.
He crossed his arms, looking skeptical. “Holland. You were out Friday; you were out this morning. You’ve been out mentally for months.”
“I’m sorry, I’ve been a little bit distracted, I’ve been?—”
“Look, Holl. What goes on in your personal life is your business. But it’s unprofessional to let it interfere with what’s happening here at work.” He seated himself on the edge of my desk and leaned over a bit, as if he were going to offer me some sage advice, or try to comfort me. “I know it’s hard to handle everything. If it’s too much for you, if maybe sales isn’t a good fit . . .”
I got the distinct impression that Trey was seconds away from making a comparison between men and women in sales, and I wanted to stop him before I had to leap across the desk and strangle him, but we were interrupted by the arrival of a deliveryman with an overlarge bouquet of lilies in his arms. “Holland O’Dell?” he said.
