Page 11 of Your Second Chance
“Watch what he’s going to do,” Oliver—Ollie—whispered to me teasingly.
Will grabbed her hand, but instead of shaking it, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
“Oh, honey.” Luna sighed dramatically, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Unless you’ve got a twin brother or own a sex club, you’re way too vanilla for me.”
“Luna Pierson,” I shouted, my face heating instantly.
But Luna and Clive only burst into loud, unapologetic laughter from their seats. Will, for all his suave confidence, turned bright red, his grip on her hand loosening quickly.
“Sorry about her,” I muttered, turning to Will with an apologetic smile. “Also, hi. I never formally introduced myself—I’m Nova.”
The corner of Will’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “Hey, Nova. So, you’re the reason Ollie had me dragged around Richmond all weekend, eh?”
“What?” My head snapped toward Ollie, who leaned back in his chair, his expression frustratingly neutral. The waitress set our drinks down.
“He’s being an ass,” Ollie said flatly, taking a sip.
Will laughed, lifting his glass in a mock toast. Luna seized the opportunity, firing off a question about rugby players, and suddenly Will, Clive, and the whole entourage were deep in a loud, enthusiastic discussion about the sport.
I should’ve been paying attention. I should’ve been soaking in every word, learning something useful. My mind was stuck on what Will had said—and the way Ollie avoided it.
I turned to him, narrowing my eyes. “You’ve been looking for me? Why are you even in this area? I thought you lived north of here?”
Ollie barely glanced my way as he lifted his glass. “Good beer here.” He settled deeper into his seat.
That was it. No further explanation.
I stared at him, my curiosity only growing.
“Tell me about you,” he encouraged.
I huffed. “I hate this question. I don’t even know where to start. Do you want to know I was born at Grace Methodist hospital and was seven pounds at birth, or were you looking more for the fact that I lost my virginity in a?—”
“I already know about your dead mom.” He leaned forward slightly, his elbow resting on the table. “Tell me something else.”
I snorted. “Well, that’squiteheavy for a pub,” I said mockingly, throwing his earlier words back at him.
He grinned, unfazed. “Gimme something else.” He tipped his glass toward me. “I’ll take it.”
I hesitated for a moment, then shrugged like it didn’t matter. “I’m a couple weeks away from finalizing my divorce.”
The words hung in the air for a second, and I watched his reaction. Ollie didn’t flinch.
Instead, he paused, his grin softening into something more amused, almost knowing. Then he smiled again, a little slower this time. “Of course you are, Nova,” he said, his voice low and tinged with humor. “I’d expect nothing less complicated from you.”
I furrowed my brows and tilted my head, not sure if I should be offended or amused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ollie chuckled, taking a sip of his beer without answering. That smirk of his lingered, though, like he knew something I didn’t—and it drove me mad.
I wasn’t about to let him get away with that vague, smug answer. If he wanted to play this game, fine. Two could play.
“Alright.” I leaned forward, resting my chin in my hand. “Tell me something about you. Something people don’t usually talk about in a pub.”
He quirked his brow, like he hadn’t expected me to flip the script, and leaned back in his chair. “You sure you want to open that door?”
“Absolutely,” I replied, matching his smirk. “You called me complicated. Let’s hear something complicated about you.”
He studied me for a moment, his expression turning into something more thoughtful. Finally, he picked up his beer, took a slow sip, and set it down with a soft clink.
