Page 77 of The Truth of Us

Something softened in his expression. "Then that's probably your answer."

The certainty in his voice surprised me.

"You make everything sound simple."

He barked out a laugh. "Trust me, Montgomery. My life is a disaster."

I looked at him skeptically. "Your mother would disagree."

"My mother thinks I'm one good haircut away from becoming the President."

The laugh escaped before I could stop it.

"There she is."

I groaned immediately.

"Oh God."

"What?" he asked.

"You keep saying that."

His smile turned easy. "Because you keep disappearing, and I enjoy seeing you being you."

I looked away first. The silence stretched.

Finally, Oliver sighed. "You know, everyone has been worried about you."

I felt my shoulders tense. "That's not fair."

"Probably not."

I looked at him. He wasn't accusing me. Wasn't trying to make me feel guilty. Just telling the truth.

"My dad checks your social media like it's a government briefing, and has alerts set up on pretty much every web browser.."

I laughed.

"He didn't like the look of the blonde guy."

I covered my face immediately. "Oh, my God."

Oliver laughed. "His exact words were, 'Nobody should be that symmetrical.'"

I groaned.

"Then he said you looked like Barbie and Ken."

"Please stop."

"Then he asked me to find out if he was secretly a serial killer."

I stared at him, and Oliver shrugged, saying, "To be fair, Dad thinks most blonde men are serial killers."

A smile tugged at my lips. Then faded. Because underneath the joke was something else.

Oliver leaned against the railing. "You don't have to tell me anything."