Kaleidoscope Hearts (26 page)

“She’s in the shower, and you’re nervous because this is your first date together. I mean, real date. Shenanigans don’t count.” He raises a blonde eyebrow and laughs when I glare at him.

“I need a drink,” I announce, heading to the kitchen.

“No, you don’t. You need to sit and relax and be still. You’re going to give me a heart attack!”

“Stop being a pest,” I mutter, plopping down on the couch.

“Okay, but on your date, do not sit like that. Nothing is more gross than a careless sitter in a dress.”

My eyes widen, and I cross my legs, sitting upright. “Damn you. Maybe I should have worn jeans.”

Robert laughs, throwing his head back. He looks so much like Mia when he does that. “I was joking! Geez, you really are nervous.”

“Who’s nervous?” Mia asks, walking over to us.

“Jitterbug over here is acting like a virgin going to prom,” Rob says, earning a laugh from me, and a look from Mia.

“Way to lay it all out there,” I say.

“She looks fine,” Mia says walking over to me. “It’s just Bean.”

“Exactly. It’s just Bean . . . do I look okay?”

Mia gives me a once-over and nods. “You look beautiful, like you do every other day, when you wear make-up and brush your hair and dress up.”

“Meaning not like every other day?”

“Well, you have to save beauty for special occasions, Chicken.”

“Bitch,” I say, laughing until the knock on the door swallows my smile.

“Ohh here he comes,” Rob starts singing like he was singing
Man Eater,
and I want to crawl into a hole and die. Mia swings the door open and whistles loudly.

“Looks like somebody wants to get laid tonight,” she announces.

And this time, for real, I want to crawl into a hole and die. I can feel my face burning as I walk to the door and tell Mia and Robert to shut up. Oliver is wearing dark jeans, black shoes, a gray button-down, and a fedora on his head. It’s simple and hot, and it matches the gray dress I’m wearing, so I have to laugh.

“It’s like they’re meant to be!” Rob states loudly. “They match! This is too fucking cute! Mia! Get the camera!”

“I hate you.” I say, looking at him. “I hate you.” I say, turning to Mia’s face, red from laughing. “I don’t hate you . . . yet.” I say, turning to Oliver, who gives me a slow, cocky half grin that makes me melt a little.

“Please have her home by midnight, and make sure she lays off the vodka,” As Mia starts rattling off her list, she stops to look at my blushing face and bursts out laughing. “Awww . . . I’m sorry, Elle, this is so cute though. You haven’t been this nervous since you lost your virginity to Hunter Grayson.” She stops laughing and turns to Oliver with a serious face. “All jokes aside, if you hurt her again, I will fucking murder you, and I’m not talking about a nice quiet murder, I’m talking dick cut off, internal organs everywhere kind of murder. So please, be mindful of that.”

“Okay, time to go,” I say, pulling Oliver’s arm out the door. “Some people have officially lost their marbles.”

Oliver is doubled over in laughter as we walk down the stairs, so he has to stop every so often to catch his breath. I can’t even turn to look at him because I’m so embarrassed. And I shouldn’t even be embarrassed! We ALL grew up together! This is absolutely ridiculous. When we get to his car, he wipes a tear from his eye as he opens the door for me. I don’t even look at him when he gets in. I just stare straight ahead. But then he gets quiet, and his hand reaches for mine on my lap. He squeezes it gently, to get my attention.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his eyes smiling.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the show. We’ll be here all week,” I mumble, making him chuckle. He brings my hand to his lips and brushes against it. I shiver at the feel of his scruff prickling over it.

“They mean well,” he says, kissing my hand. “You look beautiful. I’m so happy I finally agreed to go on this date with you.”

That makes me laugh. “Really? Were you being hounded relentlessly?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “It’s been exhausting having to dodge your advances.”

I finally sigh and get comfortable in my seat. Oliver has a way of making me feel at ease in one moment. His fingers brush my knee and I jolt.
And completely electrified the next.

“So, where are you taking me?” I ask, turning my face to look at him. He smiles, looking straight ahead.

“If I tell you, it would ruin the surprise aspect of the date.”

“We’re not going to dinner and a movie, are we?” I say, biting back a laugh when he shoots me a look.

“Do I look that dull to you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Where do you normally take your dates?”

His gaze cuts to mine again. “To eat.”

“And . . . that’s it?” I ask, a little unimpressed.

“Well, that’s not it, but I don’t think you want to talk about that any more than I want to talk about Hunter Grayson.”

I look away, smiling. “Fair enough.”

“Unless, of course, you want to talk about Hunter Grayson,” he says, as he parks the car in the marina.

“I’d rather not,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush. Hunter is still a friend of mine, and we each did a pretty good job at burying the memories of the night we had together.

Oliver turns his body to face me and runs the back of his hand down my cheek to my neck, his eyes on mine the entire time. “I’m really glad we’re doing this.”

I smile softly, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “Me too.”

He drops his hand, gets out of the car and, while I gather my purse, he comes around to open the door for me. We walk a couple of steps before his hand closes over mine, and he threads our fingers together. It’s such a small gesture, but it sets my pulse on fire.

“We’re going on a boat?” I ask when we walk past the restaurant there and head toward the vessels.

“Not quite,” he says. “Maybe next time.” He tilts his head to look down at me, and I feel the warmth of his smile curl through me.

We walk up to the edge of a dock, where there’s a table set up. The floor around it is scattered in candles and it’s completely desolate, except for the server standing beside it with a champagne bottle in his hands and a smile on his face.

“Mario, good to see you again,” Oliver says, dropping my hand and offering it to the server.

“Pleasure is all mine, Dr. Hart,” he says with a hint of a Spanish accent, smiling and nodding as he takes the hand he’s being offered and shakes it.

“This is Estelle,” Oliver says. “Elle, this is Mario.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I say, offering him my hand as well. Once we’re settled in our seats, Mario pours us some champagne, hands us a menu, and tells us he’ll be back. My eyes scan everything again—the candles, the table, the boats, the sun that’s still setting over the ocean in the distance—and finally, I look up at Oliver’s handsome face.

“You know you could have taken me to In-N-Out Burger and I would have been just as happy, right?”

His eyes flick to mine, and he gives me a slow, half-smile. “The night’s still young.”

I smile and reach for my glass of champagne. “How did you set this up, anyway?” I ask, when I see Mario walking toward us with a tray in his hands. He places it between us, bows and walks away. “Where did you find that guy?” I ask when he’s out of earshot. Oliver chuckles, his shoulders shaking. I love that his dimples—although covered by the scruff on his face—are in full sight.

“Are we playing twenty-one questions?” he asks after a beat, his eyes sparkling with amusement under the brim of his hat.

“We might as well,” I retort, smiling back.

“I met him when he brought his kid into the ER. I was on my way out, he and his wife were frantic because David, their son, wiped out and hit his head. So I helped them.”

“And you stayed in touch?” I ask, frowning.

“Well, I had to make house calls,” he says, looking away.

“You make house calls?”

He sighs and looks at me again. “Not usually.” I raise an eyebrow and signal for him to elaborate. Finally, he sighs again, runs a hand through his hair and speaks. “They didn’t have medical insurance, so I had to kind of do what I did off the books.”

My heart squeezes in my chest and I smile, reaching my hand out and placing it over his on the table. He turns his over and holds it there. We don’t say anything. I don’t tell him what an amazing man he is for doing that, and he doesn’t elaborate further. From experience, I know that Oliver is the kind of guy who would throw himself in front of a bus for you and then deny that he saved your life. He’ll chalk it up to
anybody would have done the same.
He doesn’t realize that people aren’t that nice. People don’t push aside their own agenda for the sake of the greater good. He looks into my eyes with this longing—this need—as he draws circles over my hand. For a moment, I can’t remember what we were talking about, what we’re doing, where we are, or what day it is.

“Shall we eat?” he says, flashing an easy smile that makes my heart stutter. I nod and take my hand back, putting it over my lap and folding it into the other while I wait for him to uncover the plate of oysters between us.

“Did you already work your last day at the hospital?” I ask, slipping a forkful into my mouth.

“Well, I’m done with my residency, so yes, but I’ve been picking up shifts here and there while I decide what to do next.”

“I have to go back on Tuesday for a class. Mae wants me to teach the class how to make sculptures out of shattered glass.”

Oliver picks up his gaze from the plate and looks at me, but doesn’t say anything, so I continue.

“I wish the
powers that be
would let the kids come to the studio instead. Jen is asking Mr. Frederick about it to see if he’ll let me set up a field trip there, just so they can get out. I mean, if it’s possible. I’m sure it would be difficult to cover the doctors and nurses and stuff . . . I wish this house would sell already,” I say, sighing.

“What are you going to do once it does?”

“Originally I was planning on giving all of the money to Wyatt’s parents. Set up an account and be done with it. But then I thought, I mean . . . it was my house too. Maybe I should take some of it and give the rest to them. I don’t know. It’s confusing. They don’t want it, and I don’t need it, so I go back and forth on it.”

Oliver nods and takes a sip of champagne. “Do you miss your life there?”

My eyes search his. I know what he’s asking. I don’t know if I want to answer. Finally, I take a breath and look away for a beat. Before I answer, he speaks again.

“Let’s do something,” he says, his hand reaching out for mine again. “For the remainder of this date, we ask and answer every question imaginable. It doesn’t matter how dumb or how hard it is. I want to know everything. Nothing left unsaid, okay?”

“That’s a lot for one date,” I breathe. He squeezes my hand.

“Sometimes one date is all we have.” His response makes me feel like crying, and I guess he sees that, because he brings my hand up to his and kisses it. “I want a lot of dates like this, Elle. A lot. But in the past, we’ve done things, and we haven’t communicated and, well . . . I don’t want that to happen again.”

I take another breath. “I don’t miss it. I mean, I miss the comfort of going there and knowing I was home. I miss Wyatt sometimes,” I say, my voice catching. I swallow down the tears I feel coming. “I miss his enthusiasm about art and life and the stories he would tell me about his travels. Is this weird?” I whisper, looking up at him and wiping under my eyes.

He looks like he’s being lashed at, but he shakes his head nonetheless. “It’s . . . it’s fine. I want to hear this. I don’t want you to think you have to erase your past because of me, or forget about him or your life together. I just . . . I’ve never felt like I’ve had to compete with anybody for someone’s affection, and now I feel like I’m competing with a ghost, and sometimes memories are better than realities.”

I stare at him for a moment before I stand and walk around the table. Oliver leans back, wordlessly making room for me on his lap. I sit there and wrap my arms around his neck, placing my head on his chest. His arms automatically go around me, holding me there so perfectly, it’s as if my body is a puzzle piece snapping in place. So many years I’ve dreamt of doing this with him and when we finally do, we have the shadow of my past over us. That’s how life is—I know that—but it still breaks my heart for him . . . for us.

“Would it help if I told you that the whole time I was with Wyatt he was competing with
your
ghost?” I whisper against his neck, breathing in his calming, clean scent.

His chuckle vibrates through me. “Not really. That would just mean I should have tried harder before. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have had to experience such a terrible loss.”

I inch back from him, to look at his face. “How is it that you haven’t found a woman yet? All those women you work with—that you went to school with—all, smart and beautiful. How could perfect Oliver not have found someone?”

He chuckles again, his eyes sparkling as he reaches up and combs the hair out of my face. I do the same for him, but leave my hand on the back of his neck. He closes his eyes for a moment and swallows. “I’m not perfect, Elle. Not even close.”

“You are to me,” I whisper.

His eyes darken when he looks at me. “Maybe that’s your answer.”