Page 43 of His To Unravel (His & Hers Duet #1)

TWENTY-SEVEN

nathaniel

The door closes behind us with a soft click. Olivia steps into the apartment, exhaling slowly as she slips out of her heels. Her bare feet whisper across the marble, and she leans onto the kitchen counter like she belongs here—like this space has always been hers.

The idea that one day it might be empty of her feels like a hand around my throat.

I watch her from the entryway as she combs her fingers absently through her hair.

My eyes track her movements as she reaches for a glass, fills it with water, and sips slowly.

It’s such an mundane act, but I can’t look away.

Everything about her draws me in. The curve of her shoulders, the soft way she exhales, even the faint furrow of her brow—it all tethers me to this moment, to her .

I didn’t expect to feel this unsettled. I have planned every detail, from the first brush of contact to the carefully orchestrated pace of our relationship. Nothing has been left to chance. Yet tonight has left me more exposed than anticipated.

Olivia has seen the photos. She understands now, at least in part, the extent of the things I have chosen not to share. And thanks to my father, she knows I have been aware of her far longer than I have ever admitted.

Our relationship now feels like it’s resting on a blade’s edge, and I am the one holding it there.

I told myself she would be too far gone by the time the pieces fit together, too in love to care. But doubt creeps in, cold and vicious. What if I have miscalculated?

“Nate?” Her voice breaks through the haze, melodic and clear, pulling me out of the spiral. She tilts her head, a kind smile playing on her lips. “Are you planning to stand there all night?”

My heart surges with emotion. Somehow, even with the questions I know must be circling in her mind, she’s still looking at me like that .

I force myself to smile back, walking toward her as though I haven’t just been suffocating in the possibility of losing her. “You looked like you needed a moment.”

Her brow arches, the glass cradled in her hands. “After tonight? I think we both do.”

I let out a quiet laugh, though it feels tight in my throat. She sets the glass down and pads to the couch, tucking her legs beneath her as she pats the cushion beside her.

I hesitate as my mind betrays me with the possibility that this might be it—the moment she decides it’s all too much, that I am too much.

When I finally sit beside her, she leans into me. It’s small, but it grounds me in ways I can’t articulate. I want to freeze the moment, to press pause on whatever is coming next.

“I’ve been thinking,” she begins softly, tilting her head to look up at me. “About something your father said tonight.”

My jaw tightens reflexively. “What about?”

“That you almost left Halford,” she continues, her tone cautious. “He made it sound like you wanted to drop out.”

I keep my expression neutral. “I did. ”

Olivia’s brow furrows, her lips parting slightly as if she doesn’t know how to respond. “I didn’t know that… Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say quickly, almost too quickly. “I stayed.”

“But why ?” she presses, her gaze holding mine.

Because of you. The answer sits heavy on my tongue, too big to swallow, but I can’t avoid it. She deserves the truth.

I exhale slowly. “It started last year. I took time off school because I was burnt out, disillusioned…whatever you want to call it. I spent that time working with my father since I was always going to join the family business anyway.”

Her eyes soften, but she stays quiet, listening.

“When I came back for the spring semester, I thought I’d try again. See if anything felt different. But nothing had changed. The people, the conversations, the classes… It all felt meaningless. I was ready to walk away for good.”

She draws in a breath. “But you didn’t.”

“No,” I confirm, gaze steady. “Because then I saw you.”

She blinks. “You saw me?”

I nod. “On campus. The first time, you were sitting on a bench beneath one of the oak trees reading a book. You had your headphones in, head down, lost in your own world. I don’t know why it caught me, but it did.”

She draws back slightly—not recoiling, but surprised. “You mean…before we ever spoke?”

“Yes,” I say. “I saw you that day. And then again. And again. Always in passing. But I started to look for you. And every time I found you, I stayed longer.”

“For how long?” She asks, quieter now.

“Months,” I admit. “I told myself I was just curious. But the more I watched, the more I needed to know.”

I watch her process the weight of my confession, her fingers knotting in her lap. Her expression is unreadable, which only makes my anxiety worse. Still, I force myself to push forward.

“I stayed that semester because of you,” I continue. “I hadn’t planned to. But watching you—seeing the way you moved through the world, how focused you were, how you carried yourself like you didn’t need anyone to notice you—it made me want to. And once I did…I couldn’t stop.”

She says nothing, and I can’t tell if it’s disbelief or something else entirely.

“I arranged our first meeting,” I confess, the words spilling before I can second-guess them.

“Over the summer, I planned how to meet you. I knew we’d both be on our final year, so I pulled some strings.

I made sure we got paired up on that project.

I wanted a reason to talk to you, to hear your voice up close. ”

“You really did all that? Just to meet me?” she asks, incredulous.

I nod. “And it only made it worse,” I say, a wry smile pulling at my lips. “It just confirmed what I already knew—I needed to be near you.”

She searches my face. “But…why me?”

“Because no one else has ever made me feel the way you do,” I say, my voice dropping lower.

“You’re brilliant, Olivia. You’re determined.

You see the world differently than anyone I’ve ever met.

Everything in my life felt hollow before, like I was just going through the motions.

Then, I found you. You make it all matter, baby. ”

Her expression is indecipherable. Her silence is louder than any reaction she could’ve given. I’m sure I’ve crossed the line. That I’ve finally pushed her too far.

A sharp pang of panic surges within me. My mind races ahead, a thousand scenarios crashing into one another, each more desperate than the last. I’ll drop to my knees if I have to. Beg her to stay. Promise her anything, everything—whatever it will take to make her forgive me.

I open my mouth, ready to plead, to fight for her, because the alternative is unthinkable.

But then she speaks.

“I should be scared…” Her voice, quiet but steady, cuts through the chaos in my head, halting my frantic thoughts in an instant. “And maybe I am, a little. But there’s…something about this.” She gestures between us, her fingers trembling slightly. “Something I can’t walk away from.”

Her admission stuns me.

My hand finds her face, cradling her cheek as I lean closer. “You’re the only person who can handle me. My love, my devotion—it’s not easy to bear. But you do. You match me in every way, Olivia.”

She closes her eyes as I kiss her, softly at first. But the weight of everything—the dinner, the confessions, the uncertainty—it all pours into the way my lips move against hers. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans in, her hands finding the fabric of my shirt and holding on.

When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers. “It’s never going to subside,” I warn. “The way I feel for you. It’s only going to grow. And if it consumes me, then so be it. I’d gladly drown if it means keeping you by my side.”

Her breath shivers against my lips, and I feel her nod, even as she remains silent. It’s enough for me… For now.

Olivia stands by the bathroom door, her silhouette illuminated by the warm light spilling into the bedroom.

The tension she carried all evening has melted away—her shoulders relaxed, her movements unguarded.

I watch her as I always do, captivated, though this time there is an edge to my focus—a persistent anxiety that claws at the edges of my thoughts.

She still hasn’t asked.

The question I have braced myself for never comes. She has seen the portraits, has traced the image of two boys who look nearly identical. I expect her to press, to search for the truth, but instead, she says nothing.

“Your bath is ready,” I announce softly.

Her gaze meets mine, and for a moment, I search her eyes for some clue to her thoughts. I find neither accusation nor probing curiosity.

She steps past me, her fingers brushing my arm as she enters the bathroom. I follow, unable to let the distance between us grow, even for a few minutes.

Steam curls in the air, carrying the scent of lavender and roses. Olivia slips out of her clothes, unhurried, and I feel something sharp twist in my chest.

It’s not just desire, though that rises fast and hot. It’s awe. Reverence. The way she bares herself so easily in front of me—after everything I’ve confessed—should undo me completely. That she still trusts me with her vulnerability…it feels like forgiveness, even if she hasn’t said the words.

I watch as she steps into the water, her skin glowing under the haze of steam, the curves of her body shifting like something out of a dream I haven’t earned.

I kneel beside the tub, rolling up my sleeves with deliberate slowness, trying to gather the remnants of my control.

“Lean back,” I instruct.

She obeys without question, her eyes fluttering shut as I scoop water over her shoulders and down her back. My movements are measured and intentional, as though this ritual can erase the night’s uncertainties.

Olivia sighs softly, the sound one of pure contentment. I reach for the washcloth, running it along her arms, her collarbone, the delicate curve of her neck. Each touch feels like a promise, a silent pledge to hold on to her, no matter what it takes.