Bloom [Completed]

Chapter Eighteen

"Why lunch in your office today?" I ask him between mouthfuls.

"You were right yesterday." He says. "Too many eyes."

I look down at the food in front of me and blush, smiling to myself.

"I do prefer seeing you in private. Though apparently, your office isn't that private." I chuckle.

"Hmm, I wonder if that door has a lock or not." He eyes it suggestively.

I decide to change the subject in order to learn more about him.

"So what are you doing with your Mum on Saturday... Ollie?" I ask innocently.

He regards me carefully for a moment before answering. As if he's deciding whether or not to tell me. He must find something in my eyes he trusts because he clears his throat and leans in.

"She's a counselor at the women's prison out of town. They're having a fundraiser and I told her I'd come to show my support."

"Oh, yeah?" I say mulling the information over in my head.

"It's not that big of a prison, the event probably won't have media coverage but... it's my mum, you know?"

"Why do you care if there's media coverage?" I ask

"Good publicity..." He starts. "But I like to keep my private life out of the news, I don't want them talking about her at all." He explains.

"I see," I murmur. It's good to see he cares so much about her. Refreshing actually.

A quiet vibration on the table gets both our attention.

"Jesus," he exclaims, "Can't a guy talk to a woman in peace?!"

"It's okay," I say happily, "You can take it."

"No, I-" he registers the caller ID. "Speak of the devil. It's my Mum. You wanna hear what she has to say this time?" He laughs and hits the speaker phone.

"Mum? What do you need?" He smiles warmly at me waiting for her response.

"Hello?" A male voice answers.

Shock and confusion cross his face and he grips the phone tighter.

"Who is this?!" He demands.

"I just called you because you're the last number in her call list. I figured you should know."

"Know what?!"

I look back and forth from the phone to Oliver's worried expression.

"Your Mum... she's been in a car accident."

"Is she okay?"

"They're loading her into the ambulance now... you should get going to the hospital, mate."

"Which one?" Oliver asks already standing and making a move to his desk.

"St Patrick's general."

"I'm coming." He says and hangs up.

My heartbeat is thudding behind my ears and my eyes sting trying to hold back scared tears. I stand as Oliver grabs his laptop and keys.

He storms out of his office without a word to me. I follow dutifully keeping just as quiet. I have no idea what to say in a situation like this.

"Cancel my meetings for the rest of the day," he barks at Simone as he presses the lift.

"But-" She stammers

"No!" He shouts "I have a family emergency."

She looks from his livid face to my meek one. I give her a small nod. Hopefully, she doesn't think this is about her catching us before.

We enter the elevator and the doors close leaving us alone. I desperately want to reach out and hold him but I'm not sure how.

"Oli-" I start. But he wraps his arms around me suddenly, somehow reading my mind.

He buries his face into my shoulder and I reach my arms around him tightly.

"She'll be okay," I say, at a loss for words. You don't know that, I think uselessly.

I feel Oliver sigh, then he slowly straightens up, and holds my hands delicately in his.

"I..." He trails off and looks up to the heavens.

I just give him a reassuring smile. "I know," I say simply.

"I'm sorry to cut our lunch short," he says

"Don't be silly!" I exclaim.

"God, I hope she's alright." He says so quietly I think I wasn't meant to hear.

I look into his pained eyes for a moment. I tentatively lean up on my toes and kiss his perfect sad lips. He kisses me back stronger than I was expecting.

The ding of the elevator goes to signal we've reached the ground floor and we step apart reluctantly.

He gives my hand one final squeeze before striding out.

"Call me tonight," I call after him selfishly.

His only answer a small hidden thumbs up at his hip as he dashes out the glass doors.

I roll my eyes in frustration and lean heavily against the wall. Poor Oliver, I think to myself.