Love in the ER

CHAPTER 18

The moment Oliver stepped into his office, he didn't even have a chance to sit down. His mind was still buzzing with everything that had just happened with Paris—the confession, the tension, the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would finally move forward. His heart was racing, excitement and nerves churning inside him.

But before he could fully gather his thoughts, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Oliver called, still standing near his desk, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

The door creaked open, and when Paris stepped into the room, his heart stopped. Paris, standing there, looking just as beautiful as ever—her cheeks flushed, her eyes a little wide, as if she had rushed to get there. She stood in the doorway, hesitating for a brief moment before stepping in fully and closing the door behind her.

"Paris?" Oliver asked, his voice soft but curious. He hadn't expected to see her so soon, especially after the way they had left things outside. "Is everything okay?"

Paris didn't waste a second. Before he could ask her anything else, she spoke, her voice clear and filled with a quiet, but unmistakable, determination.

"I like you too," Paris blurted out, her eyes locking with his. "I didn't know how to say it earlier. I didn't know how to react. But I've been feeling the same way. And if you still want to—" she paused, swallowing, gathering her courage, "—then yes. You can go ahead and court me."

For a moment, the room felt impossibly still. Oliver stood there, frozen, his mind trying to process her words. She liked him. The relief, the happiness, the disbelief all washed over him in a wave, and for a second, he wasn't sure what to say. But the warmth that filled his chest told him everything he needed to know.

"Paris..." he said, his voice filled with emotion, stepping closer to her. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

She smiled, a bit shyly, but there was a spark of something playful in her eyes. "Well, I hope it means something good."

Oliver chuckled, his heart lighter than it had been in days. "More than good," he said softly. "I was terrified you didn't feel the same way."

"I didn't know what to think for a while," Paris admitted, stepping closer. "You kept your distance, and I convinced myself that maybe I was imagining everything. But now..." She paused, her voice growing quieter. "Now, I know I wasn't."

Oliver nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "I stayed away because I thought it was the right thing to do. I didn't want to complicate your life—or mine. But the truth is, the more I tried to stay away, the harder it got."

Paris smiled, the tension between them easing as they stood together, both finally on the same page. "Well, you don't have to stay away anymore."

They stood there for a moment, the weight of their confessions settling in. It felt real now—more real than either of them had imagined. There was no more guessing, no more hesitation. They both knew how they felt, and they had chosen to face it, together.

"So," Paris said, breaking the silence with a soft laugh, "what does courting me look like?"

Oliver grinned, his eyes lighting up with amusement and affection. "I guess we'll have to find out."

Paris laughed, the sound filling the room and making Oliver's heart feel even fuller. "Well, I'm looking forward to it," she said softly, her eyes meeting his.

Oliver reached for her hand, gently taking it in his. "Me too, Paris."

And just like that, the uncertainty between them vanished. The path ahead wasn't clear, but they were both ready to walk it together.