by Marni Mann
When I neared the halfway mark, I headed back to the hotel where I showered and got dressed and met my coworkers in the lobby. Since they were staying at the same place, we walked to work together. By now, the sidewalks were packed with suits and tourists, giving Amsterdam a much busier and different feel than the rawness I’d felt early this morning.
Once our small group checked in at reception, we were brought up to a conference room on the top floor of the building where we were going to meet with the management team. And because we’d been given an itinerary ahead of time, I knew a tour of the building was going to follow where we would then be introduced to the rest of the staff.
After a few minutes of sitting at the long, oval table, I checked the time on my phone. It was still early with several minutes to spare, so I excused myself and went to the restroom.
As I came out of the narrow stall, I fixed my tight pencil skirt and adjusted the button-down I’d tucked into it. When I got to the sink, I washed my hands and checked my makeup to make sure it hadn’t smudged or that my curls weren’t too badly windblown. Satisfied with what I saw, I tossed the paper towel, and I left the restroom, walking toward the conference room.
There were offices on both sides of the hallway, and I peeked into the doorways as I passed them, trying to get a sense of the people who worked here and the environment we were coming into.
I was halfway to the door when I heard, “Sweet girl,” spoken from somewhere behind me.
But it was …
Those words.
That accent.
His voice.
Oh God.
My feet immediately stopped.
My breath hitched in the back of my throat.
I didn’t know if being in Europe was triggering memories of London and it was causing my mind to play tricks on me or if I’d really heard him.
But I was in the Netherlands, not England.
I was—
“Chloe,” the same voice said.
Now, there was no question in my mind.
If there were a wall, I would have gripped it with both hands, but I was in the center of a hallway that was made almost entirely of glass.
My mouth was watering, my hands clenching.
I tried to take a breath, and I slowly turned around.
My bones locked.
My muscles contracted.
And all the air left me when I said, “Oliver …”
Thirty-Seven
Once I said Oliver’s name, my voice faded out, my throat so tight that I was unable to say any more. If there were words in my head, they were gone.
Because I couldn’t even …
Breathe.
The tightness in the back of my throat only got worse as I watched him walk down the hallway, and with each step, memories of our time together began to resurface.
Things I hadn’t thought of in a long time.
And as I watched his face, it was like seeing a ghost.
Someone my heart had said good-bye to six years ago.
Someone I never intended on seeing again.
“My God.” He laughed when he was only a few steps away, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows. “Chloe fucking Kennedy, you haven’t changed one bit.” He held out his arms. “Get your arse over here.”
And then it all came back to me—every reason I had fallen in love with this man. And each one tumbled faster, the momentum causing my heart to shake as he closed the distance between us.
“Oliver Bennett …” I whispered right before his fingers landed on my shoulder, and he used it to pull me toward him.
His face bent to mine, his beard brushing my cheek as he kissed it.
The sensation of his whiskers on my skin was the strangest feeling, and I could recall it so easily. And with the closeness came a whiff of his scent, the leather that I remembered so well.
And the lust.
My lungs constricted as he pulled back and said, “How long has it been?” His brows rose as his eyes took their time looking around my face. “I was just graduating, so that was—”
“Six years ago,” I said, finding my voice.
Age had suited him well. There were tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and deeper ones in his forehead. His beard was trimmed shorter, more professional, but he still had that careless, thrown-together look.
“That’s right,” he said. “Six years ago. My God, you look stunning, Chloe.”
I knew his compliment was showing on my face, so my stare lowered until it landed on his hand, searching for a shiny band on his finger.
I didn’t see one.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I said as I gazed back up.
He laughed, and it was a sound I remembered so well.
His left hand went onto his head, where he tugged the longer strands, and I was positive there was no ring on it. But it was also when I noticed a woman walking by with several pads of paper in her arms, and it reminded me that the meeting was going to start any second.
“Oliver …” I breathed, searching once again for words that just weren’t coming to me. So, I pointed over my shoulder at the conference room door and said, “I have to go. I’ll …”
“We’ll catch up.” He smiled.
I didn’t know what to say, so I put my hand in the air, trying to make it somewhat resemble a wave, and I turned around. And for the slightest of seconds, it felt like I was in the airport all over again. My heels felt like hundred-pound weights, my legs weren’t stable, my breath released in short pants as I made my way down the hallway.
But I rushed because I was so desperate to get back in my chair, to have something to hold on to. When I got into the conference room, I dropped myself into the stiff leather chair and squeezed the armrests, trying to find my breath again.
“Did I miss anything?” I asked my coworker sitting next to me.
“A woman came in right before you and said they’d be just a few more minutes.”
I nodded, and to keep my mind busy, I reached inside my purse and took out my phone. As I held it in my hands, I clicked on the first social media app my finger landed on, and I found myself typing Oliver’s name into the search. Just as the results came on the screen, I heard the sound of shoes hitting the floor and voices, and I glanced up as several people were walking into the conference room.
I quickly put my phone back in my bag, and as I was looking toward the door again, the man coming through it caught eyes with me.
And it was Oliver.
Oh God.
“Good morning,” the woman standing directly across from me said while a few other men and women spread out around her. After a quick count, I saw there were six in total while the four of us sat on the other side. “On behalf of the management team at International Bookings, I would like to welcome you.”
My eyes gradually shifted over all six of their faces.
But only one of the managers was staring back.
And that was Oliver.
Thirty-Eight
“Chloe,” I heard Oliver say, my body stiffening as I stepped into the hallway.
I searched until I found him a few paces away, leaning against the glass wall of an adjacent office. As our eyes locked, I reminded myself to fill my lungs.
I turned to my coworkers, who were all coming out of the conference room behind me, and said, “I’ll meet you guys downstairs in a few minutes.”
As the three of them headed to the first-floor cafeteria for lunch, I made my way over to Oliver. He had several notebooks in his hands, which he’d used during the meeting, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up again.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” I said, joining him by the wall.
He had spoken about his department during the three-hour meeting, answering questions, proving he was most definitely here in every sense of the way. His presentation was impressive, sounding just like the charismatic man I remembered well. The entire time I’d listened to him, I’d sat in my chair
, gripping the edge of the table, my brain a jumbled storm that couldn’t make sense of anything.
That hadn’t changed one bit.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing since I saw you in the hallway,” he replied.
I glanced to my side, watching my coworkers step into the elevator, and I moved my gaze back to him. “How long have you been in Amsterdam?”
His hand went to his beard, brushing the whiskers with his fingers. “Two years.”
“I never thought you’d ever leave the guys.” I smiled, surprised at how easy the memories were coming back, some so small and unimportant that I hadn’t thought of them since I left England. “In my mind, the four of you would live together forever.” I laughed. “I know that probably sounds silly.”
He chuckled, and I recalled how often he used to do that.
How often we used to—together.
“I think a few of them would have preferred that,” he said, his icy-blue eyes gleaming. There had always been a lightness to Oliver’s face when he talked about his friends, and that hadn’t changed. “But they’re all back in London, some of them up to the same shit.”
“And you’re here.”
He shrugged, and his exhale, even feet away, hit my face, full of leather and more lust than before. “Sometimes, you have to leave for a while to remember why you fell in love in the first place.”
My heart lurched up to my throat, dangling there, waiting to fall back.
“I’ll return to London one day when it feels right, and I’ll probably never leave again.” He smiled, and for some reason, it fit for the moment, but his eyes told me it wasn’t a happy one for him. “Chloe, what the hell are you up to?”
I took a breath, shaking my head. “I’m here … for the next six months.” I didn’t recognize my voice or the words coming out of my mouth.
“You’re going to enjoy Amsterdam. It’s one sexy fucking city.” He took a step, but it didn’t feel like he’d moved at all. “My office is on the third floor. Come by sometime. We’ll have tea; no one drinks it around here.”
I laughed at his joke and for so many other reasons.
“It was really good to see you, Chloe.”
“You too.”
His smile grew, his fingers finally leaving his face, and he turned around and walked toward the end of the hall.
I didn’t know why, but I found myself watching him, my stare slowly moving down his body to the sweater that loosely hung on his torso, the khakis that were a little wrinkled—an outfit Oliver made oddly stylish.
And I forced myself to look away, knowing I needed to get in the elevator and meet my coworkers in the cafeteria, but there was something I had to do first.
Since I was holding my jacket and purse, I put both on and grabbed my phone out of my bag, heading outside the building. I was shaking too badly to do the math and figure out what time it was in Boston, but I knew it was early. I scrolled through my contacts, pressed the button, and held the phone to my ear.
“Hiii,” Molly whispered.
I began to walk down the sidewalk. “Did I wake you?”
“No. I just got May asleep. If she hears me and opens her eyes, I might lose my mind. I’m just warning you now.”
I wrapped an arm around my stomach, desperate for the pressure but I couldn’t feel it through my jacket. “Sounds like it’s been a long night … or morning.”
“There’s literally not a single part of my body that hasn’t been vomited on in the last eight hours.”
“I’m sorry I asked.”
“Please, for the love of God, tell me something that doesn’t involve bodily fluids so I can get my mind off the ones I’m still smelling.”
I tucked myself in an alley between two buildings, pushing my back against the wall, my free hand flattening on the brick. I took a long, deep breath. “I just saw Oliver … Oliver from London.”
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
“Molly, I was coming out of the restroom before our meeting this morning, and he called out my name.”
“What? How? Did you die?”
My heart was racing again, the beating moving into my throat where a tightness started. “I’m still dead, I think.” I glanced at the mouth of the alley as a large group walked by. “We only talked for a few minutes. I guess he’s been here for two years.”
“Wait … he works there?”
I laughed even though I found none of this funny. “Yeah, he manages the customer service sector, which is a huge division of the company but not one I’m going to work with. Unless it’s in passing, I won’t see him here at all.”
And with the three hundred employees in this building and my office several floors above his, the chances of us running into each other were even less.
“Girl, what does he look like now?”
I paused as the image came back into my head, seeing his smile first and his eyes, and I tried to take another breath. “The same but with the tiniest wrinkles and a little more mature look, and … it looks perfect on him.”
“Of course it does. They just keep getting better, and we go to complete shit.”
I could hear how sleep-deprived and puked on she felt. “Molly …” My throat felt even tighter. “What the hell do I tell Lance? I don’t even know how to address this or what to say or …” I stopped when it became too much, when I tried to picture my husband’s reaction when I told him the news.
“Do you plan on seeing Oliver while you’re there? Or spend any time with him?”
“No,” I answered immediately.
“Since you’ve already said you’re not going to work together, then I suggest you say nothing to Lance.” As she hesitated, I reached inside my jacket and placed my hand on my chest. “All it would do is start an uncomfortable and unneeded shitstorm, and every time you got on the plane to return there, Lance would stress for nothing. Your relationship doesn’t need those kinds of insecurities when things are so great between you two.”
I didn’t disagree with her at all. I just didn’t know what to think about any of it. “God, this is nuts.”
“Right?” I heard a noise in the background. “Oh fuck. Ahhh, May, nooo!”
“Give her a kiss for me. I’ll text you later. Love you, bye,” I said. I pulled the phone off my face and slid it into my pocket.
I knew I should go back inside to have lunch with my coworkers. I was running out of time before the next session, and I needed food to get me through it. I just couldn’t imagine putting a single thing in my mouth right now.
I tilted my chin up, looking toward the top of the building, seeing how massive it was in size.
But knowing Oliver was somewhere in there made it feel teeny.
Thirty-Nine
I walked out of the office at a few minutes before six and went straight to the market, the same place I’d grabbed lunch because it was only a block away and the food was good. I felt the evening chill move through my jacket, shivering as it reached my neck, and I went over to the section of soups on the hot bar. I filled a container with Spanish lentil and chorizo, grabbing a large chunk of crusty bread, and bagged them both before I walked up to the counter.
When it was my turn to check out, the cashier rang me up, and I headed for the door. Just as I was reaching for the handle, the glass swung open, and I caught eyes with the man in the doorway.
Once I saw that they were icy blue, I heard myself gasp, “Oliver …”
“Chloe.” He grinned, holding the door even wider as he stepped inside, now only a few feet away. “I see you’ve found the hidden gem of the neighborhood.” He loosened the collar of his jacket. “Or what I like to call dinner.”
In many ways, it was like Oliver Bennett had never left my life. I could look at him and remember many of his details—food he would order, expressions that would come across his face, how bringing up his sisters would make him extremely nostalgic. But as I looked at him now, I felt like he had experienced so much life since I last saw him, and those de
tails felt minuscule in comparison to what I’d missed.
“It’s so weird to run into you here …” I shook my head. “But, yes, they have the best soup. Why do you get your food here? You used to be an amazing cook.”
His hand went to his hair, and he dragged it through the longer light-brown strands. “It’s not worth cooking for one.”
There was the answer to the question I’d been curious about since the moment I saw Oliver.
And now that I knew, I had no idea what to think.
But our eyes were locked, neither of us speaking, and I had to say something.
Because this silence felt wrong.
Especially when the sensation in my chest began to move, sliding to my throat and down to my stomach.
And I had to make it stop.
And …
Lance: Just got out. I’ll call you in 10.
My cell was in my hand, the screen tilted to give me a better view, the letters that made up Lance’s name almost glowing.
I slowly glanced back up at Oliver, and it was like his eyes had never left.
But mine had.
“I have to go,” I said, my voice so soft.
He shifted in the doorway, giving me enough room to get by. “Tomorrow night for dinner, you should stop by the shop that’s three doors down.” He pointed to the left, but his eyes stayed on me. “Get an order of patat with mayonnaise. The fries look a bit strange covered in mayo, but it’s really good.”
“Thank you,” I breathed.
He nodded. “Have a good evening, Chloe.”
He was still holding the door for me, so while I clung to the phone in one hand and my food in the other, I moved past Oliver on my way outside. And when I passed him, the sleeve of my jacket brushed against his coat.