I pried his fingers off. "The answer doesn't matter anymore."
"My sincerity doesn't come around twice for the same person."
The color drained from Oliver's face. His hand locked around the door handle, knuckles white.
"I won't let you talk like that."
A scream came from downstairs.
"Sir, Ms. Henson's twisted her ankle."
Oliver looked at me, one hand already loosening his tie, voice thick and low.
"I wasn't going to deal with her, but…"
His eyes darkened, as if he were waiting for something from me.
"That's your business."
I turned around and shut the door.
Noise filtered through from the other side, and I could just make out Davina's teary, wounded voice.
"It's fine, really—I can walk. Don't worry about me."
"This whole thing is my fault…"
Oliver let out a long breath.
He hesitated, then went downstairs after her.
Almost instantly, a text came through.
"She only showed up tonight because you can't follow the rules."
"I can't just leave her out there."
"Don't overthink this. If you need to throw a tantrum, go ahead."
The front door slammed shut.
I stared out into the black night.
I closed my eyes, and somewhere in the dark I could almost hear the crickets again.