“Well I would except my truck is still parked along the street in front of your place, dip shit. I figured you’d pick me up for work in the morning. Don’t you remember? We had too much to drink? I took the T. Did you two walk here?” Chance looks at me for a second too long and Oliver tries to shield me from his sight.

“Yes, we had no other choice. Alex is gone and so is the spare key to their place. Obviously neither one of us has a phone on us, so we had to walk here.”

“Why didn’t you drive my truck. Would have been faster and less … streak-showish.”

“I don’t have your keys.” Oliver pushes him aside, grabs my hand, and drags me in the house. He tosses me a blanket from the couch. “Cover up,” he mouths.

I roll my eyes and wrap it around me.

Chance shuts the door. “The keys are in the truck, under the floor mat where I always keep them.”

“You don’t lock your truck?” I question.

Oliver drops his head. “He never locks it … the idiot.”

“I’m the idiot? I think my brother, who knows I always keep my truck unlocked with the keys under the mat, is the idiot for traipsing his half-naked girlfriend through the streets of Boston in the middle of the night.”

“Someone was a little muddled in the head tonight,” I murmur.

Oliver’s head snaps up. “You’re still trying to pin this one on me?”

I give him the if-the-shoe-fits smirk and head tilt.

“Hey, Oli … I’m hungry. Hey, Oli … let’s get some cookies. Hey, Oli … we don’t need our clothes. Hey, Oli … don’t be such a spoilsport. Who’s going to see us at this hour?” Oliver mimics me with his best high-pitched voice.

Chance laughs. “I’m going back to bed. You two can have the spare bedroom, or there are blankets in my closet if you get your ass kicked to the couch, Bro.”

“Thanks, Chance.” I smile, but Oli ignores us both.

“So … I’m going to use the bathroom then go to bed.”

Oliver grabs my blanket from me, wraps it around himself with his lips in a firm line as he lies down on the couch without a single word. Yep, he’s peeved.

“You can sleep in the guest room with me.”

He doesn’t say anything. Clearly, him sleeping on the couch is my punishment, not his. I sulk up the stairs, use the bathroom, and crawl into the lonely guest bed.

My monkey brain won’t let me get to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Oliver downstairs, mad at me. Then memories of how our whole evening started begin to replay in my head. Caroline killed Melanie … Suffocated her with a pillow … the pillow in that locked room. I remember the pain in his eyes, the feel of his watery emotions on my cheek, and I still hear the echo of his sobs. And now, I go to him.

* * *

It’s quiet down here. I can’t tell if he’s asleep or not. I tiptoe my way through the family room to the couch. Just as I start to contemplate whether I should say something or tap his shoulder, he lifts his arm holding up the blanket—inviting me in. The room is dimly lit by the light from the fish tank, reflecting shadows in his eyes. We stare at each other, my body resting on his.

His lips twitch and I think he’s about to say something, but instead he kisses me.

Match. Strike. Flame.

He sits up never letting go of my lips until he pulls my shirt off. I moan with the touch of his mouth on my breasts, arching my back into him. He fists my hair and tugs hard while assaulting every inch of my skin from breasts to lips. I lace my fingers through his hair and rock my pelvis against him. A vague memory of my intentions to deny him as a punishment fades into oblivion as he leans me back on the couch and removes his boxer briefs. He doesn’t wait. The animal in Oliver takes over. Pushing my right knee up toward my shoulder he sinks into me. We both moan.

He pauses, looking at me with such intensity, then pulls back and slams into me, over and over. I want this feeling to last, but my body is in desperate search for a release and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I bite my bottom lip with blood-drawing intensity and thrash my head back and forth willing myself to hold on just a little bit longer. Oli takes my hand and sticks my fingers in his mouth, sucking them and swirling his tongue around them. Then he moves my hand between us. I circle my fingers, slick with his saliva, over my clitoris. Closing my eyes I imagine it’s his tongue. He picks up his pace and my fingers circle faster. His lips find mine and we both fall over the edge together, our moans muffled and captured by our deep kiss.

“I love you … just so … completely.”

His words grab me and hold me in another dimension that’s beyond the reach of the rest of the world. It’s our world where time stands still, yet together we grow and connect, our love intertwining into something so beautiful.

“My love for you, Oli, has no depths. It’s effortless and forever,” I whisper with tears in my eyes. The emotional impact of the night has caught up to the moment, and the infinite love I have for Oliver is overwhelming.

Bliss … it’s all I see in his soft, endearing smile. We cocoon ourselves in the blanket and fall asleep. Our paths to each other have been brutal and unforgiving, but I would do it all over again if it meant I’d end up in these same arms.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Go

Oliver

Rosenberg came to visit two weeks ago … and he’s still here. Vivian’s parents were going to be out of town for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary. I’ve offered to drive Rosenberg back to Hartford, but Vivian hasn’t wanted me to go without her, and she’s been too busy to go. She also hasn’t moved back in yet. However, she’s been kind enough to leave Rosenberg with me to keep me company. How thoughtful!

When she’s not working at the greenhouse, she’s helping Alex and her mom plan for the wedding. I can’t help but wonder if Vivian has the white gown ’til-death-do-us-part dream. She’s never mentioned it and neither have I. My life is still preoccupied with the demons behind that door that’s still locked. Hence the reason Vivian is not living here.

Then there’s the incessant phone calls and texts from Doug, pleading with me to come to Portland. Most of the time I let it go to voicemail, but as of lately, I’ve been answering just to tell him to stop calling, then I hang up. His persistence and the desperate tone of his pleas cinches the already existent knot in my stomach. I feel like he’s a ticking bomb ready to ruin my life like his daughter tried to do.

“Rosenberg? Oli?” Vivian calls, and in that order, as I pull the lasagna out of the oven. That fluff ball rates way above me; it’s pathetic and embarrassing.

“He’s on the couch licking his balls.”

She comes up behind me and slides her hands up under the front of my shirt. “And you?”

“I can’t bend that far. I tried the other day, hoping you’d love me as much as the mutt, but I just can’t quite reach.”

She giggles with her lips pressed to my back. “I mean what are you doing?”

“Making dinner.”

She rakes her nails down my chest as I slice the French loaf. “I can see that, silly. It just looks like a lot of food for the two of us.”

“I know, we’re having company.”

“Oh, who?”

“Your parents. They’re taking Rosenberg home tonight since you’ve been too busy to go with me to take him back.”

I glance over my shoulder to see the look on her face. Wide eyes and a gaping mouth … just as I suspected.

“You called them? About Rosenberg?”

“I called them to see if they wanted to have dinner with us. I just assume they’ll take Rosenberg home with them. Why wouldn’t they?”

“I … well … it’s just …”

I turn and lean against the counter with my arms crossed over my chest. “You seem to be stammering. Do you have something to tell me?”

She releases a heavy sigh. “Rosenberg is my dog. I was supposed to bring him with me when I moved to Cambridge, but I couldn’t have him at Alex’s since I wasn’t living there, so to speak, and my parents have been asking for the past two years when I’m going to take him. My dad’s threatened to drop him off at the local shelter and I don’t think he really would, but some days I’m not so sure.”

She’s not giving me a press release. When we picked Rosenberg up two weeks ago I had this feeling he wouldn’t be returning home. It may have been the two thirty-pound bags of dog food, or all three of his little beds, or the large basket filled with every toy he owns that filled my car. Regardless, there were red flags everywhere and I’m not as stupid as Vivian apparently thinks I am.

“So he’s staying here?”

She nods.

“Indefinitely?”

Another nod.

“So you live with Alex and Rosenberg lives with me?”

Shrug. Pause. And finally … another nod.

I turn back around and start chopping lettuce for the salad. “Well, then it’s a good thing that my parents are the ones coming for dinner and not yours.”

“Oliver Konrad!” Her voice shrieks behind me. “You tricked me, set me up just to watch me squirm.”

“Wow, it must feel maddening to have someone trick you into something. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”

Vivian smacks my ass.

“Damn, woman! You’re always asking for it.” I set the knife down and lunge for her. She squeals and runs into the living room. The only thing separating us is the couch with her fluff ball on it yippity-yapping.

“It was just a joke. I was being playful.”