Page 29 of Oliver
Finally, Zahra nodded. "I'll ask Elena to keep an eye out when you're not around. She’s meant to be at most events since she’s the wedding photographer."
It was a small concession, but it felt like a huge step in trust. I tried to ignore how much it meant to me, how her reaction, and what it implied about her relationship with Ryan, cracked open a box containing a different kind of protectiveness. One that was darker, more dangerous, and now pacing restlessly in my chest.
How difficult it was to adhere to my own rules about compartmentalizing our past and personal lives from our current involvement. An involvement that I kept insisting was just business.
"Okay." I sunk into the sofa, keeping a conscious distance from Zahra, allowing her to decide how close she was willing to get. "Thank you."
We returned to the spreadsheet, a careful distance between us as we refocused on the schedule. But something had shifted. The professional walls were still there, but they'd eroded, become so thin they were practically transparent.
We stuck to the guest list and discussed contingency plans for weather and transportation issues. Safe topics. Professional concerns. But my mind kept circling back to the moment the fear took over her eyes.
"Oliver?" Zahra's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "You've been staring at the same page for five minutes."
"Sorry," I said, adjusting my glasses. "It’s been a long week."
She studied me, her head slightly tilted. "Late nights?"
"I haven’t gone on any dates, if that’s what you’re asking." I flipped to the next page in the binder, pretending not to see the relief in Zahra’s expression. “I wouldn’t risk our cover story.”
“Right," Zahra said, her features darkening at my professional reasoning. This was the danger of long-term fake relationships. This was why rules were so important. This is why I couldn’t allow my mind to keep straying from the script.
"I appreciate you giving up the extra income, despite our contract not forbidding it," Zahra said, sliding an inch closer to me. "I know you need it."
I swallowed, keeping my expression neutral.
"It's a calculated investment in maintaining our narrative integrity." It was a statement that left no room for interpretation. "Any conflicting accounts of my relationship status could compromise our story."
I omitted the part where I'd turned down three high-paying bookings in the week she was gone. I wasn’t about to mention that I’d been obsessively checking the time, waiting for whenthe clock struck our correspondence hour. And I would never disclose how Emmet had caught me staring at her Instagram more than once.
Zahra smiled tightly. I couldn’t tell if she saw right through me or if my barricades were holding.
"Besides," I added, adjusting my glasses to avoid her gaze. "The compensation for this booking is...sufficient."
The word felt inadequate. Nothing about this arrangement was "sufficient" anymore. That was the problem.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
"We leave tomorrow morning," I said, steering the conversation back to safe topics. "There's still a lot to cover."
Zahra held my gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, returning to the seating chart. “Is there anything left to discuss?”
Her voice held a hundred layers of dense atmosphere, more guarded than I’d ever seen her before.
Was it my insistence on maintaining a professional distance? Was it exposing the depth of her fear of Ryan? It was probably both, and there was nothing I could do to put her at ease, except respect the underlying request in her question—please, leave.
I gathered my things methodically, compartmentalizing as I went. We would leave for Norman the next day. Then everything would change.
"Oliver," she said softly as I stepped into the hallway. I turned, waiting as she fiddled with a loose strand of hair. Then she looked up, her gaze unreadable. “Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day.”
The words she’d kept to herself were weighing down on her, making her shoulders sag slightly under too many unspoken truths.
I managed a small, reassuring smile. "I’ll see you tomorrow."
Tomorrow, we'd return to where everything began and where everything fell apart. Tomorrow, I'd take the first step to finally make things right for Emmet and me.
I couldn't afford to be distracted by green eyes and old nicknames. I couldn't let myself remember how easily she fit in my arms, or how something in me cracked at the thought of her flinching like that again—not when I was so close to my real goal.
Yet as I drove home through Seattle’s rain-streaked streets, the memory of her fear wouldn’t let go. It coiled in my gut, sharp and unrelenting.
