7. Olivia
Chapter 7
Olivia
I ache with your absence every single day.
C all me coward extraordinaire.
“Hurricane, haven’t you noticed there isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do for you?”
It’s been five days since Holden’s confession. I’m still unsure if it was for Nisha’s benefit or mine, but those words did something to me. They altered something profound in my bones. Not only did they feed my anger and hurt, but they also brought back a million questions I never got answers to.
Because what a load of bullshit.
There isn’t a lot he wouldn’t do for me?
How dare he say that and make himself look like the good guy? Like he cares about me and didn’t rip out my heart to stomp on it a few times for shits and giggles.
But no, I won’t give him the satisfaction of even thinking about this, about him. All of these thoughts and feelings will go back into my forget-me box.
Holden’s here for a job and the occasional photo of us together. Other than that, he can go fuck a duck.
I had to promise Nisha I’d lie low until the media calms down and we know exactly how this will play out. Unfortunately, that means Holden and I have been playing our own version of house ever since. Thankfully, most of our interactions involve taking Stormy for walks twice daily. The rest of the time, I hide in my studio or bedroom.
So what if I’m back in my own bedroom because Holden threw away my sheets and mattress to exchange them for new ones? I’m sure Luke would have done the same.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
Whatever. I did my due diligence and thanked him. Then I tried to erase his kind gesture from my memory immediately.
I can’t have him slip from my enemy-number-one spot.
Maybe it would be better to play nice, considering our situation. But contrary to Nisha’s belief, six months is a long time to pretend to be happily married to the person you thought was your ex-husband. Especially if the reason you’re still married is because he left without a goodbye or so much as an explanation. Not to mention entirely unreachable or untraceable.
When he didn’t come home, and all of my calls went to voicemail, I got so worried. For the first time, I regretted not having anyone else’s number either. Tom thankfully called me a day later. I was so relieved to hear from him that I cried. I thought he’d tell me something terrible had happened to Holden. But no, he called to inform me Holden was all good, but that he had to leave unexpectedly—some family emergency.
Tom also told me not to worry about my rent because that was taken care of. As if my main worry was the rent at that moment and not my best friend who’d apparently just left me without an explanation. Tom was Holden’s friend, and Holden trusted him, so I had no reason to doubt him. No matter how wrong the disappearance felt. After several weeks of daily online searches without any results for Holden’s name, I finally told myself I had to accept the truth: Holden wasn’t coming back to me, and I was all alone again.
If it wasn’t for my new record deal and all the work that came with it, I’m not sure I would have survived those first few months. But between writing songs, studio time, all kinds of meetings and appearances, shooting social media footage, music videos, and networking, I barely had time to think. Every night I collapsed into bed. I was so exhausted, there was barely any time for my heartache. And since I was used to having no one to talk to, I wrote songs when the pain became too much. That was the only way I knew how to deal with it.
My phone chimes with a message, yanking me out of the past.
Evie: How are you today? Ready for your big photo shoot?
Evie was halfway across the country for a concert when the news broke. After lots of reassurance, she didn’t make the pilot pull their private plane around. But she’s been blowing up my phone all week, keeping me busy with new songs we’re working on together. Since I didn’t want to bitch to her about Holden, I welcomed the distraction.
Me: I’m sure the pics will turn out great, but I’ll be happy once it’s over.
A week ago, I was thrilled to do this urban Manhattan photo shoot with one of my favorite photographers, Seo Joon. Now, I’d rather not. But it’s part of the job, and as everyone knows, the show must go on.
Evie: You’ll do great. We’re about to take off. Can’t wait to see you tonight.
Me: Same. I’m in desperate need of some girl time. Have a safe flight. See you soon.
A quiet night with my best friend sounds precisely like what the doctor ordered.
I apply moisturizer and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Puffy eyes and a dull complexion accompany dark circles. My team will have their work cut out for them today. But after this week from hell, I wasn’t expecting much else.
The only saving grace is I managed to stay off social media, although my thoughts have still been spiraling just fine without it. Every time, I keep reminding myself it doesn’t matter what other people think of me. It works for about 1.2 seconds, and then chaos ensues once again.
And I can tell myself only so many lies, especially when it comes to Holden.
Because, of course, it’s totally no biggie that we’re still married. I’m sure at some point, we can have a good laugh about the fact that our divorce papers got lost somewhere in the land of bureaucracy, or whatever the heck happened to them all those years ago.
And yes, I absolutely love having to pretend that he’s my favorite person in the universe in front of the entire world. I mean, what could possibly be bad about that?
With a theatrical groan, I drop my hands away from my face, walk out of the bathroom, and drop face-first onto my bed. Screw my moisturizer.
The comforter swallows my groan, so I do it again. Until I’m half screaming. Damn, that felt good, although my throat hurts now.
“Mmm, Hurricane. You okay over there?”
I don’t even bother raising my head. Naturally, my door would be open for him to witness my breakdown.
Instead of giving him a reply, I lift my thumb.
His chuckle surrounds me, and the mattress dips beside me a moment later.
Why is he in my bedroom?
And why does his familiar spicy scent surround me immediately? Something about it is just so incredibly masculine and sexy. The instant that thought crosses my mind, I roll away from it before I do something foolish. Like, climb him like a tree so I can sniff his neck. Because I totally don’t want to do that. Not at all.
I almost fall off the bed to escape, but Holden’s hand shoots out and grips my arm.
“Hurricane, we need to talk about this.”
I ignore him, and he huffs a frustrated breath. “Can you at least listen to me?”
I grumble into the comforter, which he takes as an affirmative.
“I know you’re unhappy about this and that it’s not ideal. But no matter how much we want to, we can’t fix the past.” His Adam’s apple moves when he swallows. “Can we call a truce? I’ve thought about it a lot this week, and it seems that’s the only way this can work.”
“A truce?” I turn my head to see him better.
He nods. “Yeah. No matter how unbothered I am by your constant glares, no one will think ‘happy marriage’ when they see us in public.”
I rub the back of my neck. I know he’s right. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Because I really don’t.
Holden continues, “And at home, I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible.”
I grunt.
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Speaking of home, what do you think about living outside the city?”
The way he said home does something to my insides. My blood pumps a little faster, my chest feels a little tighter. It’s a vivid reminder that I once considered him my home. Even if we lived in two separate apartments. We spent so much time together, the thin wall that separated us didn’t matter.
Holden opens the door to the apartment and shows me around. It’s exactly how he described it—one bedroom, one bathroom, and a small living room and kitchen area. But it’s mine for now. He said he’d made a deal with Tom, so I don’t have to worry about the rent. I don’t enjoy handouts, but I won’t be stupid about this either. I’m planning on paying back every penny of it.
He places my bags we picked up from the motel on the floor by the kitchen and holds out the key to me. “Here’s yours.” He pushes his hand into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out another one. “And here’s mine.”
I look at the second key in his outstretched hand. “Yours?”
Holden nods, giving me the same carefree grin I’ve often seen since I met him. “Yup. I want you to be able to get into my place anytime you need me. Remember, we’re in this together, and I want to help.”
I absentmindedly touch the simple silver ring on my left hand he gave me on the way here. We’re getting married tomorrow, on my birthday, and Holden said I should have a ring.
And now he’s giving me a key to his place too?
He barely knows me, and he’s doing so much for me. Too much. What if he’ll be disappointed in me when he gets to know me better? When he finds out what happened to me?
Holden’s smile turns gentle. “You can keep it for emergencies, only if you want. Or you can stop by if you’re bored and want to hang out. Entirely up to you. No pressure or anything.”
I blink at the memory and ignore the sharp pain in my chest. I don’t want any of this. I don’t want to give in and forget how much he hurt me. Or worse, set myself up for disappointment again.
But that’s the entire problem of this mess, isn’t it? I don’t have a choice. It doesn’t matter what I want unless I want to risk my career.
My eyes widen. “You want me to move outside the city?”
He shrugs. “We don’t have to. But I bet Stormy would love a place where she could run freely in the backyard, and we wouldn’t need to deal with paparazzi constantly either.”
Of course, he has to bring up the one thing I’ve been feeling guilty about for years—a backyard for my fur baby. I’ve always wanted something where she could spend more time outside, but it was impractical, especially when I was running around nonstop at the beginning of my career.
Holden continues, “I know it’s easier for some of the work stuff to stay in the city, but it seems your calendar isn’t as busy as it used to be, so having a better living situation might be worth the longer commute for the few times you have to return to the city.”
I frown. Now he can read my mind too?
“But what about Stormy if we have to go somewhere? You know my neighbor, Susanne, usually takes her.”
The middle-aged woman has been an absolute godsend for me, and Stormy adores her.
Holden’s eyebrows raise at my question. Is it because he’s surprised that was the first and only concern I brought up? Because I might have surprised myself a bit with it.
Not a second passes before he answers, “We’d get someone to stay with her at the house. Fully vetted.”
It sounds like he’s given this some thought. I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified at his thoughtfulness.
I decide to go with, “I’ll think about it,” because I need to do more of that when he’s not staring at me.
Naturally, he grins as if I just said yes. Ugh. I have to get away from him.
“What about the truce?”
I stare at my hands and shrug. “I’ll try to be nice to you in public. I don’t want to get in trouble with the label this close to the album release.”
“We definitely don’t want that.”
I can hear the smirk in his voice.
Since he doesn’t move to leave, I peek at him. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you not going to say you’ll be nice to me in public too, or is the truce only one-sided?”
This time, his lips tilt up farther, turning the smirk into one of his devastatingly handsome smiles. This man shouldn’t be allowed to smile. Ever.
“No, Hurricane, I’m not going to say that.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why? You don’t want to play nice with me?”
His smile drops a fraction. “Because I’d rather plunge a knife into my heart than ever hurt you again.”
I suck in a sharp breath. Unable to form words, I watch Holden as he finally gets off the bed.
My traitorous heart screams at me to call him back, to forgive him. To curl up on his lap and finally feel those arms around me again. To feel even a fraction of the comfort and bliss I used to.
But I don’t say anything and watch him walk toward the door, where he taps his knuckles twice against the frame and says, “Be ready in ten.”
He slips out of the room, leaving me alone with the brain explosion he just caused.