Kaleidoscope Hearts (37 page)

“You have to be the neatest person I know,” I comment, looking at his nearly empty trunk. What he does have in there—a white doctor’s coat and a pair of sneakers—are neatly stacked to one side. He smiles, putting the bag in his hands on the ground, as he pulls the black knit sweater he’s wearing over his head. It tugs the gray V-neck t-shirt he’s wearing beneath it up his stomach, and my eyes stay glued there until he chuckles and pulls it back down. My eyes snap up to his, and his hand taps my chin up as he ducks his face to mine.

“You, my little Elle, are trouble,” he says, his green eyes twinkling. He drops his hand, picks up the bag, and starts walking toward the house. I follow closely behind him and watch the door as we wait for somebody to answer.

A little flash of curly brown hair runs to the door, and Sander’s little face appears on the other side of the glass. His big green eyes widen into saucers when he sees Oliver.

“It’s Uncle Bean!” he shouts. “Mommy, Uncle Bean is here!”

“I heard you. I’m coming,” she shouts, walking down the hall and smiling widely when she sees me. Oliver crouches down, and as soon as she unlocks and opens the door, Sander throws himself on top of him, wrapping his arms around his neck and squealing as Oliver makes raspberries on his neck. The sight of him with this adorable little boy is almost too much for me to handle.

“Long time no see, Elle,” Sophie says, reaching out for a hug.

“It seems like every time I see you, you have exciting news to share,” I say, smiling as my hands rub over her very pregnant belly.

She makes a face, smiling and shaking her head. “This news was not planned.” She gestures for us to go inside, and we follow her to the kitchen.

“Sander, this is Estelle. I think you met her once, but you were a baby, so you probably don’t remember her,” Oliver says, flipping him so that he’s looking at me upside down.

“Hi, Estelle. You have pretty hair,” he says, making me laugh.

“Hi, Sander, you have pretty eyes.”

Oliver grins at me, and I feel like he’s reaching into my ovaries and squeezing to make sure I’m paying attention.

“Your house is beautiful,” I comment, looking around.

“Thank you. Dan will be happy to hear that,” Sophie says, smiling. “How’s the art business?”

“It’s going pretty well.” I smile and think about the painting Dallas sold, and the amount of kaleidoscope hearts I’ve been selling lately.

“I’m in love with the hearts you make,” she says.

“On that note,” Oliver says, as he deposits Sander on the countertop and reaches into the bag for the box I gave him this morning. He hands it to his sister and reaches back into the bag again, lifting out a superhero toy for Sander.

“Whoa! Cool! Thanks, Uncle Bean,” Sander says, trying to rip the toy out of the package.

“This is so beautiful,” Sophie says, holding the heart in her hands. “Thank you.”

I smile, blushing a little and look at my feet. Oliver’s chuckle makes my face heat further. I love what I make. I’m proud of my art, but it makes me feel weird when someone like Sophie, who I guess I kind of seek approval from, examines it.

“Stop being so fucking cute,” Oliver growls into my ear. I smile and nudge him away with my shoulder.

“Have you been making a lot of these?” Sophie asks.

“Yes, actually, but I’m going to stop for a while.”

“Really?” she asks, looking surprised. I can feel Oliver’s eyes on me as well. I haven’t really told anybody yet.

“I feel like if I make too many, they lose their uniqueness. Not that they’re so special, but you know what I mean.” I blush again. I can’t remember the last time I felt like I was under a microscope.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Sophie says, nodding. “That’s how I feel about my stories. I love writing and illustrating them, but sometimes I feel like if I put too many out there at once, it’ll be ‘just another Sophie Hart story.’ I get it.”

“Yeah, so I’ll probably take a little break. I mean, I’ll still be painting and making them—it’s not like I can switch myself off—but I probably won’t sell them for a while.”

“All right, guys, we need to get going. I just wanted to bring this by before I get busy,” Oliver says, kissing Sander on the forehead and helping him hop off the counter. He rounds the counter and gives his sister a hug, laughing at whatever she whispers in his ear.

I say goodbye to Sander and Sophie. “Do you know what you’re having?” I ask after I give her a quick hug.

“We want it to be a surprise. At this point, it doesn’t matter, it’s coming anyway,” she says with a laugh that makes me smile.

“That’s kind of cool.”

“It’s completely nuts is what it is,” Oliver says, shaking his head.

“Don’t start, Oliver.”

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs.

Sophie rolls her eyes and looks at me, pointing at him. “That is why it’s taken him so long to get you, you know that, right?”

“Sophie,” Oliver groans.

“I’m just saying,” she responds, mimicking him.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind as we walk to the car, tucking his face into my neck. “You think that’s funny?”

“The fact that everybody says you have the ultimate anal retentive personality? Yes.”

He nips my earlobe and opens the door for me. “Speaking of anal . . .”

“Ohmygod,” I say, groaning and laughing as I sink into the seat.

“I’m just saying,” he says, grinning as he starts the car.

After a couple of minutes of arguing about whose music we’re going to play—his hip hop or my folk—we end up playing none, because his phone rings and my brother’s voice seeps through the speakers of the car.

“You’re with my sister?” he asks from the get-go.

“Yeah, and you’re on Bluetooth,” Oliver responds.

“Hey, Elle,” Victor says.

“Hey, Vic,” I respond.

“What are you guys up to? Jenson’s in town again and wants to meet up for drinks at the usual bar, want to come?” he asks.

Oliver glances at me from the corner of his eye.

“Is this code for ‘bring her to the bar for a group date so she’ll know you’re not serious about her?’” I ask, raising an eyebrow at Oliver. His mouth drops, a surprised laugh leaving his lips. Victor stays silent for a beat before he joins in on Oliver’s laughter.

“Hell no,” Victor says.

Oliver finds my hand and squeezes it. “Just so we’re clear, this is going to be the complete opposite of that. This will be me saying, ‘I am so serious about this girl. I want to take her everywhere with me, any chance I get,’” he says, looking at me when we reach a red light.

“This is going to be interesting,” Victor mutters. “I’ll save you two seats.”

We laugh once the line is disconnected.

“I want it to be like this, Elle. Always,” he says as he parks in front of the bar. When we get out, he wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his side. “I want to bring you here, and if you decide you don’t want to come, I want to get texts from you that say you miss me.”

I turn to face him when we reach the door. “I want that too,” I respond with a smile.

We walk in with our fingers intertwined, and are greeted with a catcall from Jenson and claps from Victor. We sit down beside each other, talking and laughing the way we always have, but this time freely, and everything feels like it’s finally falling into place.

“YOU’RE SO GOOD with kids. Do you want any?” I ask, as Oliver winds down the road after we leave a charity event at the hospital.

His hand finds mine on my lap, and I sneak a look at his serious face. “Are we starting twenty questions?”

“Maybe,” I say, a smile tugging my lips.

“Can we start in about . . . three minutes?” he says. “How many dates do you think we’ve been on now?”

I frown, trying to figure it out in my head. “I don’t know . . . wow, I really don’t know,” I say quietly. “Definitely more than I bargained for.”

Oliver chuckles. “Nice, Elle. Real nice,” he says, as he turns onto my parents’ street.

“What in the world?” I say in a breath, more to myself than to him. He squeezes my hand and doesn’t respond, only winks as he parks the car in my parents’ driveway. “You know they’re out of town this weekend, right?”

Oliver doesn’t say anything, just gets out of the car and rounds it quickly to open my door. He grabs my hand and looks at me before sighing and placing a kiss on the top of my head. I follow him as he opens the side gate and walks to the back of the house, passing the bathroom where we were last together. He stops when he reaches the back door.

“Go to the kitchen. I left something there,” he says.

I stare at him. “Are you going to climb the tree?”

He chuckles. “Would you stop asking questions until it’s time?”

“Okay,” I say, sounding unconvinced. I unlock the door and open it, heading to the kitchen. I pick up a note card that reads:

I frown at it until I notice a piece of broken, black glass under it. I fight the overwhelming emotions that start building in my chest as I pick it up. I leave the kitchen, and make for the stairs. I lift my foot to take a step, but stop with a gasp when I notice there’s a note card on every step, all beside a piece of broken, black glass.