Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(96)

“It’s Winnie, Pacey’s fiancée. She said Silas really needs to talk to me.” I press my hand against the necklace he gave me. “What if he has something important to tell me? What if something happened to him? I don’t think she’d text me if he was going to break up with me. Do you?”

“That would be pretty shitty if she did.”

I type back a text.

Ollie: He does? Is he okay?

Winnie: He just really needs to have a conversation with you. If you want, I can give you the address of their private airport.

Ollie: Please, I’d love that.

I hop off the bed and run to the bathroom, where I flip on the shower.

“I’m assuming you’re going to go talk to him?” Ross asks from the bedroom.

“Yes, but first, I need to get this stink off me.”





All I’m going to say is thank God for Winnie because there is no way I’d be able to get through the gates of this airport without her calling ahead and making arrangements. Even at that, as I sit here in the front reception, I have a security guard watching my every move. It’s incredibly uncomfortable knowing at any moment, he’d have no problem tackling me to the ground and dragging me out of here by the foot.

I felt bad leaving Ross, but he told me he had no issue. He was going to take one more bath before he checked out, and having some alone time was just what he needed since, apparently, I brought down the climate.

I told him I owed him big time, packed my stuff, and quickly skirted out of the hotel.

I wish I had more time to fix my hair and makeup, but I didn’t want to miss Silas. So I went with a fresh face, hair in a high ponytail, and I’m wearing his hoodie and a pair of leggings. I easily could pass off as a fangirl . . . hence the security.

As my foot bounces up and down, waiting for Silas, a few players trickle in. No one that I know, though. I feel like I maybe saw Holmes, but I can’t be sure.

I check the time on my phone and glance around, hoping Silas comes soon. He hasn’t texted this morning, which makes me believe he gave up, and I don’t blame him. You can only text a person so many times before you realize they don’t want to talk.

The door opens, and Pacey walks in, followed by Hornsby . . . and Silas. I stand from the chair I’ve been waiting in, and my mouth goes dry as he glances up and spots me.

He stutters to a stop as he tries to understand what I’m doing here. Pacey sees me too, so he offers to take Silas’s bags. Silas hands them off, and then, looking so good in a three-piece suit, he walks over to me.

“Hey,” I say as a greeting.

“Ollie.” He sounds breathless. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, well, you said you needed to talk, so here I am.”

“I wanted to talk last night,” he says.

“I know, but I was, uh, just not up to it.”

He glances over his shoulder. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to have this conversation here.”

Oh God! He did want to break up with me. And here I am, like a freaking fool, thinking that it’s something else. Of course he doesn’t want to break up with me in the middle of the airport reception area. No one wants a crying person in public.

“Right.” I try to smile, but my lips tremble, deceiving me. “I get it.” My eyes water. Dammit, Ollie, hold it together. “We can just, uh . . .” A tear floats down my cheek, and I quickly swipe it away. “We can talk when you get back.”

I turn to walk away, but he steps in front of me, his hand on my stomach. “Ollie, wait.” He lifts my chin. “Why are you crying?”

I will my tears to stop as I hold back my emotions, my throat feeling so thick with emotion that it makes it hard to speak. So softly, I say, “I know . . .” I clear my throat. “I know you want to end our agreement, okay? I’m just . . . I’m not handling it well.”

I swipe at my eyes again.

“What makes you think that?” he asks.

I look around and notice no one is near us, so I say, “I saw it in your eyes the other day, Silas. You don’t want this, and that’s okay. I get it. Does it hurt because I really like you? Yes, but it’s something I can get over.” I try to walk away again, but he stops me.

“I don’t want you to get over it,” he says softly. “I don’t want you to get over me.”

“What?” I ask, surprised.

“Ollie.” He cups my face and runs his thumb over my tear-soaked cheeks. “I wanted to talk because . . . because I don’t want this to be an agreement anymore. I want us to be real.”

Hope springs in my chest as more tears fill my eyes. This time, they’re tears of joy. “Really?”

“Yes, but I need to work through some things.” He wipes away another tear. “Did you think this whole time I was going to call things off?”

I nod, feeling foolish.

“Ollie, come here.” He pulls me into his strong chest and wraps his arms around me. He lowers his head and speaks closely to my ear. “I’m losing my mind over you. There’s no way I could just end it.”

I cry into his chest as he holds me.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get here,” he whispers again. “But I don’t see a situation where I don’t try to make this work for us. I just . . . I just need to talk to you.”