ChapterTwenty-Six
Oliver
I wake up, alone and immediately alert. Was last night a fever dream?
No. My sheets still smell like Piper’s perfume. And sex. A lot of sex.
Despite the anxiety pinching my nerves with the familiar terror of loss and abandonment, I’m more relaxed than I’ve ever been in my life. I quickly assess the room for evidence of Piper. Her clothes are still scattered around the floor along with my own, but there’s no sign of the woman herself.
I heave myself out of bed, throw on the cotton shorts from last night, and head to the kitchen to see if her bag is still here. It’s gone, but there’s a note where it used to sit. I snatch it up.
Went downstairs to work XOXO - P
The urge to run downstairs and spend my morning with her is nearly overpowering, even if it’s just watching her work. No. Pull it together, man.
I am more than willing to rearrange my entire schedule—hell, my entire life—around her. Being with her last night—the way she touched me, the way she listened and shared—was like being taken apart piece by piece and then reassembled into something new and singular. I could never let anyone else have that much control over me. But with Piper, it’s always been a slippery slope, and even more horrifying, I find that I don’t mind it.
I’m ready to hand her my beating, bloody, brutalized heart and ask nicely for her to please not crush it between her delicate palms. Perplexing. And yet not.
Forcing my limbs to obey my commands, I return to my bedroom, shove myself into workout clothes, and go into the gym. The familiar movements and the drumming of my feet on the treadmill pound my thoughts into a more organized pattern. While I’m running, I call Arnold and give him some of the details about the package Piper received from Ben.
“I haven’t seen Mr. Simon since the party in Brooklyn,” Arnold says.
But Arnold has been keeping an eye outside Piper’s apartment only during the daylight hours. I’ve been more worried about her safety than about Ben’s precise whereabouts, as long as he was nowhere near her.
“I want eyes on her apartment twenty-four seven. If that means bringing in additional staff, I’ll cover it. If you see him, call me immediately.”
“Got it,” he says.
We disconnect. I increase the speed on the treadmill, my mind conjuring the details of everything Piper has told me about Ben, about how he treated her. Anger is a creature with claws and teeth, and it wants to rip his head off. Even though I know she’s downstairs and perfectly safe, part of me frets, and the lingering temptation to go downstairs pummels me with every breath.
I shake my head as if it will shake out the thoughts. Work. I need to get to work. I can’t think about what Piper is doing or what she’s thinking or if she’s going to stay the night again or if she’s happy or hungry or confused.
What if she changes her mind? What if everything I shared registers, and she decides all my baggage isn’t worth it? What if this is still just a fling, a rebound for her to move on from her ex and onto someone else? I haven’t been so unsure of myself since I was a child.
After I finish working out, I shower and get dressed and take the elevator downstairs to my office, scrolling through emails as I walk. The elevator doors slide open. Across the hall, a delivery man in a dark-brown shirt opens the door to the stairwell and he heads down, his hat tugged low and his back to me. The set of his shoulders strikes a familiar chord. A twinge of alarm pings in the back of my mind.
“Mr. Nichols.” Carson is standing at the end of the hall, waiting for me, holding a colorful vase.
“What is this?” I stop in front of him.
“Cake pops. They were just delivered.” He motions toward where the delivery guy disappeared down the stairs. He’s procured a clean suit and is as pressed and polished as ever. If it weren’t for the dark circles clutching at his eyes, I wouldn’t know this was the same man I had to carry into bed last night. “You want these?” He lifts the vase slightly.
“No.”
He turns and heads back to his desk. “I sent the summary of today’s schedule to your calendar.”
I follow him. Before I have a chance to so much as open my mouth, he speaks again.
“I, uh…” He puts the cake bouquet down on the edge of his desk and scrubs a hand through his hair. “I would like to apologize both for my behavior last night and for intruding on your evening with Miss Fox.”
“No need.”
Carson has never been one to simper or prostrate himself before me. I hope this doesn’t become a habit.
“I can book myself a hotel room and be out of your guest quarters immediately.”
I frown at him. “What about your things?”