Page 69 of Mending Hearts
Ollie stiffens. “Already?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I confirmed the kiss,” I say simply. “Nothing else.”
He nods, absorbing that. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not… deciding things without me.”
I study him over the rim of my mug. “What about you?”
He swallows. “I called Eric last night.”
“And?”
“I told him I’m gay,” Ollie says, and even now, after everything, the words feel like a live wire between us. “I told him I’m not doing interviews, and I’m not agreeing to labels. I told him I won’t deny what happened.”
My chest aches.
“And your team?”
“I have to call PR today,” he says. “That part’s nonnegotiable.”
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
There’s a pause. A big one. Neither of us mentions the obvious thing.
Finally, Ollie does. “We haven’t… agreed on what we’re saying. About the kiss.”
I meet his eyes. “No.”
Silence stretches, taut. I think about last night. About watching him walk through my door and not implode. About the way he listened when I set boundaries instead of trying to talk me out of them. About how he said he’d sign the papers if I needed him to.
My heart is a stupid, stubborn thing.
“Let’s date,” I say suddenly.
Ollie blinks. “What?”
I stare into my coffee like it might have answers. “Let’s… date. Publicly. Carefully. With rules. With space.” I have no fucking clue what I’m saying or where the words are coming from. My traitorous, naïve heart is more than likely running the show.
His mouth opens, then closes. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“For real?” His voice wobbles. “You actually want to?”
I look up at him. “How else are you going to win me back?”
The look on his face—shock, hope, terror—nearly takes me out at the knees.
“I—” He laughs once, breathless. “Fuck.”
I want to kiss him so badly it hurts. The instinct is overwhelming.
