If We Were Perfect - Ana Huang Page 0,29
if impatient for the humans in the room to say something so it wouldn’t be the only one filling the silence.
“You look nice,” Sammy said. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”
Scarlet washed over Olivia’s face while his mouth broke out into a huge grin.
“I can’t believe you brought that up!” She should’ve spiked some dishes with laxatives. She’d avoid those herself, of course, and Sammy would’ve had to spend hours on his porcelain throne. It would’ve been glorious. “You have no manners. A gentleman would’ve forgotten all about it.”
“Trust me, no man—gentle or not—would’ve forgotten it.” Sammy’s eyes dipped to her chest, and the heat on her cheeks tripled.
“My eyes are up here.”
“I’m aware.” He raised his gaze to meet hers again—lazily, sensually, stopping for detours at places he had no place detouring to.
Who was this man? Not the sweet, light-hearted Sammy she once knew.
This Sammy was unapologetic, carnal, and—as much as she hated to admit it—sexy as hell.
Olivia stuffed a forkful of noodles in her mouth so she had something else to focus on. As she suspected, the pad Thai was excellent.
“You get all the embarrassment out of your system yet?” Sammy smirked when she shot him a look that would’ve put anyone else six feet in the ground. “You would’ve never brought it up, and it would’ve been the elephant in the room for weeks. This way, we get over it and move on with our lives. Don’t think I didn’t know you were hiding from me this morning. You never wake up so late.”
“I was not hiding. I have a new morning ritual that takes longer than usual.”
“Lie. You’d never allow a ‘morning ritual’ to take up so much of your time.”
Damn him for knowing me so well.
Olivia was not, in fact, one of those people that meditated and journaled and did yoga for an hour in the morning. She subscribed to the Six-Minute Miracle Morning method: one minute each for silence, affirmations, visualizing, scribing, reading, and exercise. Efficient and effective, just the way she liked it.
“Whatever,” she said coolly. “Now that the elephant has been discussed and removed, let’s move on to other topics.”
“Sure.” Sammy leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Let’s hear it.”
“What?”
“Your apology.” He raised his eyebrows. “You said this was an apology dinner.”
Olivia’s lips pressed together into a thin line, but she wasn’t one to go back on her word. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t quite catch that.”
“I’m sorry,” she gritted out in a louder voice.
“My hearing must be off tonight. Repeat that again?”
“I’m sorry!” she exploded. “I’m sorry for rearranging your stupid kitchen without asking first. I’m sorry for calling you last week and making you feel like you have to deal with all this. I’m sorry about New York. I’m sorry about my mom. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! There! Are you happy?”
By the time she finished, her chest pumped with heavy pants, and her words hung frozen in the air, too shocked to move.
Sammy stared at her, equally frozen.
Olivia covered her face with her hands, mortified for the umpteenth time in a week. What was with her lately? The stress from work, her fruitless-thus-far apartment search, and sharing a house with her ex-boyfriend must be getting to her; she’d balanced on the knife’s edge of losing it for days now. Well, turned out tonight was the night she tipped over the edge.
The clock’s ticking filled the room once more, this time in admonishment. That’s not what I meant when I said talk, the accusing march of its minute and second hands said.
Great, now she was hearing voices from inanimate objects. She really was going crazy.
“Olivia.” Sammy’s tone was far gentler than she’d expected, and it was worse than if he’d yelled and refused to accept her apologies. “You didn’t make me do anything. I was the one who chose to drive to your apartment that night, and I was the one who invited you to move in—though I did second-guess myself when I saw what you did with my spice rack.” His mouth tipped up, and Olivia snorted, grateful for the touch of levity. “Apology for rearranging the kitchen accepted, though the point might be moot. You were right—we’re both living here now, and it’ll be easier if there’s a system in place. I went to The Container Store today and bought some labels and new spice jars, so you can arrange them to your heart’s content.”
Olivia’s face lit up before it fell again. “You