The Way Out He Never Saw Coming - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
You are reading The Way Out He Never Saw Coming, Chapter 6: Chapter 6. Read more chapters of The Way Out He Never Saw Coming.
My cheeks burned as I abruptly pushed back my chair, desperate to escape the thick tension between us. "Oliver, I'm stuffed... I should probably—"
"Emily, let's get married."
His words hit me like a thunderclap, hanging in the air with startling clarity. Just when I'd caught my breath, this raw, unexpected proposal sent my pulse skyrocketing again. I searched his face for any trace of a joke, but found only unshakable seriousness—his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity I hadn't seen in years.
Before I could process anything, he stood, closing the distance between us in two strides. Suddenly he was so close I could feel his body heat. My heart hammered as I noticed his fist clenching slightly, like he was bracing for impact.
"Emily," he repeated, voice low but firm. "I said... let's get married."
I blinked rapidly. "Oliver, we—we don't have to let our families dictate this. It's been years; we're practically strangers now—"
"Fine," he cut in gently but decisively. "Take your time. The upstairs guest room's ready—message me if you need anything." His hand twitched toward my shoulder before pulling back. "And when you've decided... message me."
Then he was gone, leaving me standing in the dim dining room with his proposal echoing in the silence. I collapsed into my chair, releasing a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. This wasn't the clingy boy I remembered—this man carried a quiet, grounded strength that threw me completely. Maybe I should've reconsidered meeting him.
Exhausted, I trudged upstairs, trying to shake the strange warmth pooling in my chest. When I reached the guest room, I froze in the doorway.
Every detail—from the pale pink comforter to the scuffed wooden desk—was a perfect replica of my childhood bedroom. My fingers traced the familiar grooves in the desk as memories flooded back: Oliver keeping watch during sleepovers, his quiet presence as I drifted off. That same warmth spread through me again.
I fell into bed, letting sleep pull me under.
Hours later, my phone exploded with notifications, jolting me awake. Still dark outside. Bleary-eyed, I opened my messages—and my stomach dropped.
Dozens of photos filled my screen: Leon shirtless, tangled with some lingerie-clad woman, their faces inches apart in shot after nauseating shot. Unknown numbers kept pinging with fresh angles, each more gutting than the last.
I barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting, my whole body shaking. Splashing icy water on my face did nothing to stop the tidal wave of betrayal. Years of silence, of indifference—it all crystallized with brutal clarity. After blocking Leon's number and powering off my phone, I slumped against the tiles, hollowed out. By sunrise, I vowed, I'd bury this past for good.
As dawn painted the room gold, Oliver appeared with breakfast. He paused at my disheveled state, then set the tray down and stepped closer.
"Oliver," I said, my voice steady with newfound resolve. "Let's get married."
For a heartbeat he looked stunned—then his entire face lit up. Suddenly I was airborne as he spun me, his laughter bubbling over. When he set me down, his whisper tickled my ear: "Emily, you have no idea... I've loved you since we were kids. When Mom said you agreed to meet..." He pulled back, thumb stroking my knuckles so tenderly my chest ached.
As I nibbled his perfectly cooked breakfast, Oliver animatedly mapped out plans: "We'll get the license, then surprise your mom with wedding prep. And the photoshoot—I'm thinking sunset at the pier—" He flashed a boyish grin. "Oh, and a real proposal. Gotta do this right."
"Emily, let's get married."
His words hit me like a thunderclap, hanging in the air with startling clarity. Just when I'd caught my breath, this raw, unexpected proposal sent my pulse skyrocketing again. I searched his face for any trace of a joke, but found only unshakable seriousness—his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity I hadn't seen in years.
Before I could process anything, he stood, closing the distance between us in two strides. Suddenly he was so close I could feel his body heat. My heart hammered as I noticed his fist clenching slightly, like he was bracing for impact.
"Emily," he repeated, voice low but firm. "I said... let's get married."
I blinked rapidly. "Oliver, we—we don't have to let our families dictate this. It's been years; we're practically strangers now—"
"Fine," he cut in gently but decisively. "Take your time. The upstairs guest room's ready—message me if you need anything." His hand twitched toward my shoulder before pulling back. "And when you've decided... message me."
Then he was gone, leaving me standing in the dim dining room with his proposal echoing in the silence. I collapsed into my chair, releasing a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. This wasn't the clingy boy I remembered—this man carried a quiet, grounded strength that threw me completely. Maybe I should've reconsidered meeting him.
Exhausted, I trudged upstairs, trying to shake the strange warmth pooling in my chest. When I reached the guest room, I froze in the doorway.
Every detail—from the pale pink comforter to the scuffed wooden desk—was a perfect replica of my childhood bedroom. My fingers traced the familiar grooves in the desk as memories flooded back: Oliver keeping watch during sleepovers, his quiet presence as I drifted off. That same warmth spread through me again.
I fell into bed, letting sleep pull me under.
Hours later, my phone exploded with notifications, jolting me awake. Still dark outside. Bleary-eyed, I opened my messages—and my stomach dropped.
Dozens of photos filled my screen: Leon shirtless, tangled with some lingerie-clad woman, their faces inches apart in shot after nauseating shot. Unknown numbers kept pinging with fresh angles, each more gutting than the last.
I barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting, my whole body shaking. Splashing icy water on my face did nothing to stop the tidal wave of betrayal. Years of silence, of indifference—it all crystallized with brutal clarity. After blocking Leon's number and powering off my phone, I slumped against the tiles, hollowed out. By sunrise, I vowed, I'd bury this past for good.
As dawn painted the room gold, Oliver appeared with breakfast. He paused at my disheveled state, then set the tray down and stepped closer.
"Oliver," I said, my voice steady with newfound resolve. "Let's get married."
For a heartbeat he looked stunned—then his entire face lit up. Suddenly I was airborne as he spun me, his laughter bubbling over. When he set me down, his whisper tickled my ear: "Emily, you have no idea... I've loved you since we were kids. When Mom said you agreed to meet..." He pulled back, thumb stroking my knuckles so tenderly my chest ached.
As I nibbled his perfectly cooked breakfast, Oliver animatedly mapped out plans: "We'll get the license, then surprise your mom with wedding prep. And the photoshoot—I'm thinking sunset at the pier—" He flashed a boyish grin. "Oh, and a real proposal. Gotta do this right."
End of The Way Out He Never Saw Coming Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to The Way Out He Never Saw Coming book page.