Shadows of the Past (10 page)

Emily is standing in the living room gathering her things, and when I enter, she lifts an eyebrow at me.
 

"Thanks for the heads up, Kayla."

Oops. I probably should have mentioned he was coming. My face heats. I was too preoccupied with getting ready.
 

"Sorry, I didn’t think he’d get here this fast."
 

Oliver laughs and I turn to glare over at where he's sprawled on our couch like he's been here a hundred times. His long legs are stretched out, his arms resting on the back of the sofa, and he looks almost edible in a long sleeved blue Henley and designer jeans.
 

I feel almost frumpy in my own well-worn clothes. London isn't a cheap city to live in, especially since I keep comparing things to how much it’d cost at home.
 

"No worries," Emily says in a chipper tone. “I’ll be sure to return the favor when your hair looks like a rat’s nest that was taken over by a pack of rabid pigeons.” She waves her fingers through the air, making flighty bird movements.

I laugh out loud; I can’t help it. No matter how much I mess up, it never seems to bother her.
 

“I wish I was more like you.”

She walks by and touches the tip of my nose.
 

“Boop. No, you don’t. You like guys, remember?” She laughs and disappears down the hall.

Oliver sits up and looks at me. We get lost in time, staring at each other for who knows how long. He breaks the connection first, looking around the flat appraisingly.
 

"This is a nice place."

"Yeah, it's Emily's. I'm lucky to have found her since I don't really make enough to live in this area—or anywhere else in London." I immediately regret the words because it just shows how far apart we are. I'm Cup O' Noodles while he's champagne chocolates.
 

Sensing my discomfort, or maybe he just realizes what I already know, he stands and holds out a hand for mine.
 

"Come on. I'm hungry."
 

When I place my hand in his, he pulls me out of the flat and leads me down the street where his car is waiting. He holds the door open for me to get in before sliding in beside me. The driver pulls away from the curb, taking us to wherever Oliver's planning to eat, and I can only hope it isn't too expensive. I don’t want him paying for me every single time. I never even saw the bill for tea. He must have paid it before we arrived.

The car pulls up in front of a six-story white building. Oliver gets out of the car before reaching in to help me out, keeping my hand in his as he walks inside the huge building. "The lift is over here."
 

He pulls me behind him into the elevator and inserts a key to start it. We exit on the top floor into a flat that looks like it takes up the entire floor. I thought Emily's flat was large, but this flat could probably hold three flats the size of Emily's. Smiling at my wide-open mouth, he takes me on a tour of the house. Three bedrooms, an office, a study, and an honest to goodness drawing room later, we're standing in a huge kitchen.

“So, what is this place?”

“It’s mine. I’m finally out of the hotel and back here. My ex-fiancé moved her things out while I was gone.” His voice becomes tense and his mood darkens.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.
 

“Don't be. I'm glad I discovered her affair before we got married. Fidelity matters.”

He walks over to the fridge and starts rummaging around, taking out eggs and sausage and a few other things before he sets to work making food. I can't do anything but watch him move around the room with ease. I can barely boil water.
 

Watching him cook, though? I can't even describe it. He's obviously used to doing things for himself, something I wouldn't have expected. When the smell of pork fills the room, so does the sound of paws on the marble floors. The huge black dog that started this whole thing comes skidding into the room, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees me. It's actually quite comical.

The dog cocks his head to the side the way he did that day in the Gardens, studying me like he's trying to figure out exactly what I'm doing here. As if deciding I'm ok, his tongue flops out of his mouth and charges toward me.
 

Oliver sees me stiffen and says in a strong voice, "Barkley! Stay!"

Freezing in place, the dog looks between the two of us, obviously torn between his master's command and his need to mow me down again. Looking over at Oliver, Barkley whines pitifully as if to say, "but can't I slurp her just once?"
 

"Sit," Oliver says sternly, prompting Barkley to sit on his haunches, his entire body vibrating with his need to move. Satisfied that the dog isn't going to move, Oliver goes back to cooking and I start to walk over to the big animal. I have no idea what kind of dog he is, but he's big, his head coming almost to my waist and covered with silky black fur.
 

I snag a sausage link off the plate Oliver has resting next to the stove, stand in front of the dog and hold it out to him. I can see the drool pooling in the sides of the dog's mouth, and I grimace, not wanting to get slobbered on.
 

Holding out the sausage with a trembling hand, I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to watch his huge teeth get closer to my fingers. As soon as his mouth gets close to me, I drop the sausage, backing away quickly and practically hiding behind Oliver, who laughs silently, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

"Kayla, trust me. He’s safe." I can hear the laughter in his voice as he speaks and I'm embarrassed at just how quickly I backed away from the dog. “I trained him, and he’s usually a good boy, except for his cell phone obsession. I think he’s a pretty sweet fellow.”

I walk over to the dog slowly and pat his head. He swallowed the sausage in one gulp. “Poor Barkley.” I rub his fur and talk to him like he’s a toddler. The dog loves it, and from the look on his face, I think Oliver is enjoying himself, too.

CHAPTER 16

When breakfast is ready, Oliver pulls out one of the bar stools, gesturing for me to sit before he first brings the plates over, then coffee for each of us. He places milk and sugar on the table and grins at me sheepishly.
 

"I know it isn't a White Chocolate Mocha, but I'm not quite that talented."

I take a bite of the food he's made and almost moan at the taste. My usual breakfast is buttered toast or a muffin, so this is heaven. We eat in silence for a few minutes before he starts asking me questions. "How long have you lived in London?"

"Six months," I say warily, waiting for him to start asking why I moved and what happened in the states that would cause me to come here, but he doesn't. “Emily hooked me up with a job at the hotel pretty quick. It pays the bills and my boss is nice.”
 

"It sounds like everything fell into place."

"Yeah, it did." My thoughts turn sour as I recall how hard everything has been. I don’t want him to ask me about it, so I direct the conversation back to him. "This is a really nice apartment...err, I mean flat. What about you? How long have you lived here?" Okay, so it's not exactly original, but it's something.

He's quiet for a minute before he answers.
 

"Since I finished university."
 

I want to know why he suddenly sounds sad. I don't ask though because if he wants me to know, he'll tell me. He didn't push me, so I'm definitely not going to push him. The awkward silence returns and we both concentrate on our plates. By the time we're finished eating, I'm sure he's ready to kick me out and be done with me, but I don't know what I did wrong.

Oliver takes his plate and mine over to the sink, and when he's across the room I'm able to find my voice.
 

"Did I say something?"
 

Shoulders stiffening at my softly spoken words, he doesn't immediately answer my question. He continues rinsing the dishes and loading them in a dishwasher I didn't notice earlier, before finally turning to face me.
 

"No, you didn't say anything wrong."

"You don't have to explain anything to me," I'm quick to point out.

He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.
 

"It's not that. I just don't usually find myself in a position where—” he sighs and tries to find the right words. “Meeting new people isn't something I do. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, just not today, okay?"

Completely understanding where he's coming from, I smile at him and nod.
 

"Sure. Trust me, I'll be the last person to push you."

Oliver visibly relaxes at my words.
 

Looking over to where the dog still sits, where he sat the entire time we were eating he commands, "Bed, Barkley."
 

The dog gives him what has to be puppy dog eyes. I swear they get bigger and it looks almost like they fill with tears. The dog retreats into another room and Oliver leads me out a door and up a set of stairs to a rooftop terrace. We walk over to the railing where he points out Kensington Gardens, Kensington Palace, and a few other landmarks.
 

He doesn't live very far from me. I don't know how we've never run into each other before. I know London's a big place, but I could easily walk from my flat to his. We share a common market, not to mention he and Barkley spend a good amount of time at the Gardens, one of my favorite places in London to go.
 

We spend the rest of our time on the roof talking. It’s nice, and this feels easy, which is unusual.

After a little while, he drops me back off at my flat, walking me to the door like a gentleman. We've had a great time today and I hate to end it. I stare into his eyes, not wanting to go inside but unsure how to make him stay. Suddenly, his whole body jumps and I swear a little cartoon idea light bulb pops up above his head.

"When are you off next?" His voice sounds eager like he can't wait to share a wonderful idea.

"Wednesday and Thursday, why?"

"I want to take you somewhere."
 

His careful omission of the location peaks my interest. I smile and play coy, "Where?"

"It's a surprise. Pack an overnight bag and I'll come collect you Wednesday morning. We'll return Thursday night." Oliver looks hopeful.

An overnight trip? I'm not sure this is a good idea, but I'm too curious to tell him no, so I only nod in agreement. Oliver places a soft kiss on my cheek.

"Goodbye, my American Girl."
 

I stand in the hallway long after the lift doors shut behind him wondering if this is going to be a mistake.

CHAPTER 17

It's Wednesday morning and I've been up since five, unable to sleep due to my excitement and nervousness. For the next couple of days I'm going to have Oliver all to myself. The thought makes my stomach flip.

I've packed and the closer it gets to eight thirty, the more I begin to freak out.
 

What am I thinking? I can't go away with a guy I barely know.
 

Yeah, we've spent a lot of time together recently, but letting him take me somewhere without even knowing where we're going? My sense of self-preservation is screaming, WARNING, KAYLA! WARNING!

Oliver arrives at eight-thirty on the dot to find me still hiding in my room.
 

Emily knocks gently on my door before opening it just enough to slide through and shutting it softly behind her. "He's here!" Emily squeaks in an excited whisper.
 

I smooth down my long-sleeved gray top and pull out the bottom of the white tank I'm wearing beneath it. Even if I don't feel it, I can make my outer-self look calm and collected. My insides feel like they're trying to turn themselves inside out, and I'm not sure if it's excitement, nerves or I've contracted the bubonic plague. It’s too late to back out now, so I allow giggling Emily to open the door.

He's standing in the living room, gawking at the shelves where Emily keeps the majority of her kitty collection. I can see the look of horror on his face at the sheer amount and variety of cat figurines she owns. I wonder if he's noticed we don't actually have a balls-eating attack cat?

"Hey." My voice comes out high, squeaky, and barely audible. I have to clear my throat and try again before Oliver turns around. When he does, I can tell he heard me the first time because his eyes are dancing with amusement.

A giddy feeling settles in my chest. This is going to be ok. This is going to be better than ok.
 

Emily clears her throat from behind me, interrupting my mental pep-talk.
 

"Are you guys just going to stare at each other all day or do you actually plan to go somewhere? Scoot! Get out of my flat," she says handing me my suitcase and firmly shoving us toward the door. "I'll just be here anxiously awaiting all the sordid details of your holiday. Don't hurry back. The longer you stay, the more delicious your story."

Emily slaps my butt, winks at Oliver and shuts the door to the flat in our surprised faces.

"Well," says Oliver, a grin spreading quickly across his face, "We do need to get going." I'm too shocked to speak. Did Emily really just slap my ass?

I don't regain my voice until we are down the elevator, outside and safely seated inside the black town car.

"Where are we going? Will you tell me now?" I feel like a little kid, begging.
 

"Sorry," he says with a laugh. "It's a surprise. If I tell you now, it will ruin it."
 

Oliver looks smug like he's sure I'm going to like wherever it is he's taking me. He rests his elbow on the side of the door and looks out his window. In his reflection, I can see the small smile on his face, but he doesn't offer up any more information.

CHAPTER 18

We pull up outside a tall glass building beside the River Thames and the car stops. The driver opens the door for Oliver, who climbs out and immediately turns to take my hand.