Talk To Me

Chapter Thirty-Five

Present

Oliver pushed open the door to the apartment and stepped inside, calling out with a hint of humor in his voice, "I'm home." His words sounded far less confident than he'd imagined. He muttered under his breath, "That sounded way better in my head."

The low hum of a song reached his ears from the kitchen, and he followed the melody, turning left into the room. He froze at the doorway, watching Lily as she moved fluidly, emptying the dishwasher and swaying her hips to the beat. She was completely unaware of him, lost in the rhythm, her movements carefree.

"Are you going to come or what?" she asked, without turning around, her voice playful and teasing.

Oliver smirked, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. "You seem chipper."

Lily paused, closing the cupboard with a soft thud, then spun around to face him. Her eyebrow arched in mock surprise. "I am?" she asked, her expression a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

He nodded, his eyes following her as she moved across the room. The sight of her—relaxed, comfortable in her own skin—caught him off guard. He wasn't used to seeing her like this, so free, and yet it made her more real.

"Do you like books?" he asked, his gaze drifting to the novel resting on the kitchen island.

"In general, yes. But these books are not good," she replied, picking up the novel as though it were a foreign object. She flipped it over in her hands, inspecting the back. "I mean, I'm sure Leah likes it, considering she owns every book this author's written." She looked up at Oliver, the edge of her lips curling into a grin. "But I have no idea why."

Oliver's eyes widened slightly, his curiosity piqued. "So, they're not interesting?" he asked, his tone almost too serious as if the answer mattered more than it should.

"No, not to me, at least."

"But they're very popular," he pressed, a frown tugging at his lips.

Lily raised an eyebrow at him as if she'd just caught him in a trap. "Have you read them?" she asked.

He shook his head, an involuntary chuckle escaping him. "No, but I bought them—for Leah. For her eighteenth birthday."

Lily's expression shifted, and her eyes widened. "Oh," she said softly. "Well, maybe she liked them," she added, her shoulders rising in a small shrug. She tried to hide the slight discomfort in her tone but failed.

"Maybe," Oliver muttered, a strange tightness in his chest. He had no idea whether Leah liked these books or not. He'd never bothered to ask. The thought felt distant now, almost foreign.

He let out a breath, changing the subject. "We should go," he said, nodding toward the door. "You don't want to be late for your first day. Your boss might get mad." His grin was easy, the kind he always used when he needed to deflect.

Lily followed him, but not without a teasing glint in her eyes. "Did you just make a joke?" Oliver chuckled under his breath. "You can't laugh at your own jokes, Oli."

"I'm not," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone than the moment warranted.

The silence between them as they drove to the restaurant was thicker than it should've been. Oliver couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off.

Where was Leah?

The thought lingered in his mind like a shadow as he parked by the curb, his eyes flicking to Lily. She was staring out the passenger window, her hands pulling at her sleeves, lost in thought.

He reached over, gently placing his palm on her forearm, the touch instinctive. "Hey," he said softly. "You don't have to work here if you don't want to."