predictable, overprotective ways. But now her refuge had been infiltrated by all the lingering feelings from the night before.
I went back to hoping that dinner would help and poured myself a glass of bourbon, before roaming the entry hallway to admire the pictures of Laney when she was little. I’d seen them a hundred times, but they still never failed to make me smile. There were even a few of us together.
I glanced over each one, reminding myself how important it was to make things right between us—even if it meant never being able to sleep with her again. She was practically like family to me, just as her father had said.
I couldn’t let that slip through my fingers.
Not just because of one fucking perfect night.
21
Laney
My dad was as chipper as ever, whistling around the kitchen as he seasoned the pot of pasta sauce on the stovetop.
I smiled up at him as I threw a handful of cherry tomatoes into the big bowl of salad in front of me. “Go on and spit it out, Dad. I see that look in your eyes, and I know you’re just bursting at the seams to say something.”
He glanced at me over his shoulder with a sly smile. “Oh, nothing.” He shrugged. “It’s just, you and Oliver, eh?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Stop that,” I said.
“Maybe this fire tragedy has a silver lining after all.”
“I brought him here as my friend. Just like it’s been every other time before.”
“I see the way he looks at you,” he argued. “It reminds me of the way your mother and I used to look at each other.”
My eyes teared up instantly, like they usually did when my dad mentioned my mom. They’d had the perfect marriage full of love, and it was such a shame that their time together had been cut short. I felt the pain of growing up from age five without my mom, but I also felt my dad’s pain of losing the love of his life. He’d never seen anybody seriously since she passed.
“Well, I’m here tonight so we can celebrate my career and this new PhD journey,” I said. “Not to gossip about boys.”
“Can’t I dream about my girl having it all?” He gave me a wide smile. “The career, Mr. Right…and maybe a few grandchildren to follow?”
Oh, my God. Am I having déjà vu? I have to get out of here. “No kids until after I finish my PhD program and get my dissertation published.” I filled my arms with the salad bowl and a stack of plates, preparing to cart it all out to the dining table. “Oh, and I’ll have to find a husband, too. Because, I hate to break this to you for the millionth time, it’s not going to be Oliver.”
“What’s not going to be Oliver?” Oliver appeared suddenly.
He startled me so much that I nearly dropped everything. My muscle memory had learned from the whole pan of eggs sent flying during my singing performance disaster. I managed to balance the load in my arms so the stack of plates didn’t shatter across the floor, and so we wouldn’t all be caught in a downpour of lettuce and veggies. But I wasn’t able to save a few of the small ripe tomatoes from sliding out of the bowl. They went flying off in every direction like little bouncy balls.
“Oh, crap,” I said. “Let me go set this stuff down, and I’ll—”
“No, here.” Oliver stepped closer. “I’ve got you.” He poised himself in front of me to transfer everything into his arms and then headed back out to the dining table.
I tried to ignore the smug expression from my dad who thought any basic act of decency from Oliver was a sign that we were destined to be together.
“Quit looking at me like that,” I said. “He’s used to dealing with my clumsiness. And anyway, if he wasn’t here, you would have stepped up to help me just the same. Anybody would have. It doesn’t make him some knight in shining armor.”
I confidently spun on my heels only to feel something mushy under my foot. It sent my right leg sliding out from under me, and the next thing I knew, I was midair—dangerously close to falling flat on my ass. I winced in anticipation of hitting the floor, but suddenly my weight caught on a pair of strong arms.
My gaze drifted up to find Oliver towering above me, gripping me tight.
“Whoa, easy there.” He stared down at