IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(40)

Again his answer was succinct. Which confused me. I knew from our text conversations that they were more than close—Conor adored his mother.

“Do you see her often?” I already knew the answer. He’d told me—or rather Trace—that when his mother had gotten sick, he’d moved into the apartment above her garage to be nearby and therefore saw her almost every day. If not for a doctor’s appointment, then to drop off groceries or run errands or just check in and spend time with her.

He shrugged, his eyes glued to the sidewalk ahead. “More or less, I guess. As often as you might expect living in the same smallish town.”

I had to force myself to keep walking when what I wanted to do was clamp my hand around his arm and pull him around to face me, force him to meet my eyes, and tell me what was going on. I didn’t understand why he was being reticent. He’d been so open with Trace about his relationship with his mother, the struggles he faced in dealing with her illness.

But when it came to sharing those same feelings with me—with Wells—he clammed up.

As though he didn’t trust me.

I clenched my jaw, thinking of everything I’d shared with him. About my sister and Mark. Sure, I’d held a few details back from the story, but still—I’d told him more than I’d ever told anyone else.

It looked like Conor wasn’t willing to do the same with me.

I didn’t like that.

I was about to press for more when my phone buzzed in my pocket. With a frustrated huff I yanked it free, intending to send it to voicemail until I realized it was Deb. She knew better than to call when I was out of the office. Normally she would text unless it was important.

“The office,” I told Conor as I stepped away and swiped the screen to answer the call. “Should be quick.” I held the phone to my ear and growled, “What?”

She didn’t bother apologizing. She rarely did. “Legal is done with the paperwork. They’ve left several stacks of documents in the conference room for you and Conor to review before the deal can be finalized.”

“Why can’t they take care of it all?”

“I asked. Something to do with liability and due diligence and other things that you don’t pay me enough to pay attention to.”

“I pay you fine,” I told her.

“I’ll always take more.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

“When do they need it done?”

“According to them? Yesterday. But they said by tomorrow morning should work as well.”

I cursed under my breath, my eyes sliding toward Conor. Normally I wouldn’t think twice about returning to the office this late at night. Actually, normally I wouldn’t have even left the office at this point. But I didn’t like the idea of cutting my time with Conor short.

“Is everyone already there?” I asked Deb. “I don’t want to get back to the office only to have to wait.”

There was a brief pause. “Legal’s left for the night. So have I for that matter. Everyone assumed that… ah… you wouldn’t be back in until tomorrow.”

So the office was empty. “What about Conor’s lawyer, James? Did he stick around?”

“Apparently something came up. He said to tell you that if you and/or Conor touched any of those documents without him being present, he would sue you ten ways to Sunday.”

I let out a laugh. “He’s welcome to try.”

“That’s what I told him. More or less.” She cleared her throat. “So should I let everyone know we’ll be digging into the documents first thing in the morning?” There was a hopeful note to her voice.

I turned and eyed Conor. He stood by the curb, head thrown back as he stared up toward the sky. I followed the path of his gaze, but all I could see was an expanse of blackness past the glare of the streetlights. He looked so striking and lonely that something in my chest squeezed.

“No. We’ll take care of it tonight.”

Deb cursed under her breath. “Of course. Because I was just pulling up to the McKittrick Hotel. You do realize I plan to submit my bill for the Sleep No More tickets and the rest of the evening’s activities for reimbursement.”

“Don’t bother,” I told her.

“Oh, I plan on bothering. If you think I waited four months for these tickets only to leave before we even get to the bit with the naked bull flailing around covered in chocolate—”

“No,” I cut her off. “I mean, you don’t have to bother coming in. I’ll take care of things.”

There was a long pause. “Do you… even know how to turn on the lights in the office?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

She let out a chuckle. “If you say so.”

“Give my love to the naked bull.”

“Oh, I plan on it. Trust me.”

I hung up the phone and turned to Conor. He stood in profile, puffs of his breath framing his face in a soft halo of clouds. His cheeks were pink from the cold, his bottom lip plump from worrying it with his teeth. I could see hints of exhaustion around his eyes, a slight bruising of the delicate skin underneath. I remembered, then, that it had been a long day for him. For us both. After an even longer night.

Briefly, I thought about sending him back to his hotel and tackling the paperwork on my own. But selfishly I didn’t want him to go. I wasn’t ready for tonight to end. I’d started the day with the goal of proving to Conor that he could trust me, and given his reticence to tell me about his mother, I’d failed.