You Looked Down on Me Once Now You Look Up (Patricia and Oliver) novel Chapter 150

"Oliver..."

"Ow!" Patricia gasped as his teeth nipped her shoulder, sharp enough to make her cry out.

"Too stiff. Try again."

She hesitated. "So what do you want me to call you?"

"Whatever you want," Oliver said, his voice low and teasing.

"But just now..." If anything goes, why not Mr. Padilla?

"Anything but Mr. Padilla."

"O... Oliver?" she stammered.

It felt weird, like they were still strangers pretending to be a couple. Why was it so hard to say his name out loud?

He chuckled softly against her skin, obviously enjoying himself. "Say it again."

"Oliver."

"Keep going."

"Oliver..."

"Don't stop."

"Oliver..."

A shiver ran through her, spreading from her chest to her head, like the rush you get from a sip of ice-cold plum wine—sweet, dizzying, impossible to forget. She remembered last night’s kiss, the way he was now breathing against her ear. Every moment with him felt like a new line crossed.

Later at dinner, Sara was happily munching on spicy fish and couldn't help but gush.

"Aunt Patricia, Marian is amazing. Seriously, the way that dessert hit? Way better than any boyfriend ever has."

She stuck out her tongue, grabbed her water, and took a big sip. "If you and Uncle Oliver ever break up, can you let Marian live with me?"

The whole table froze, everyone staring at Sara with their forks still in midair.

"Nope," Roger rolled his eyes. "Can you think about anything besides eating?"

Sara whimpered, still sniffling. "But Aunt Patricia totally gets that I was joking..."

Roger tapped her forehead, looking fed up. "Did you see Oliver’s face? Of all things to say, you brought up divorce? Come on, Sara, use your head!"

Downstairs, she kept sniffling and swatting at mosquitoes.

Upstairs, Patricia stood outside Oliver’s study, a glass of water in hand, trying to work up the nerve to go in.

She took a deep breath, rubbed her cheeks, and finally knocked.

Silence.

Just as she turned to leave, the door opened.

Oliver stood there, one hand on the doorknob, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke fluent Spanish.

His eyes flicked from her water glass to her face, and then he reached out, gently took her hand, and led her inside.