EIGHT
OLIVIA
Two weeks pass. I find myself surprised by the ease of our new routine.
We share dinners where we talk about everything except the past. We drink coffee in the quiet of the mornings.
There are movie nights where I fall asleep with my head on his chest. I listen to the steady beat of his heart.
A sense of calm settles over me. It’s comfortable.
It’s safe. For the first time, I can breathe.
But then I think of Kieran.
He has been quiet lately. Too quiet. My mind drifts back to those news articles from a few weeks ago. The ones that almost destroyed everything I built. I still have a feeling that disaster was Kieran’s doing.
The world around me begins to lose its focus.
Saturday morning, Julian walks into the bedroom while I stare blankly at the wall. He looks different today. Determined. He moves like a man who has already made up his mind.
“Get dressed.”
I blink at him. My head throbs. “My head is killing me.”
“Get dressed.”
I groan and pull the blanket higher to shield myself from the light. “Julian, it is Saturday.”
“I know.”
“I want to stay in bed.”
His mouth twitches. “You have wanted to stay in bed every day this week.”
“Because I’m tired.”
He crosses the room and sits beside me. The mattress dips under his weight. His fingers brush a strand of hair from my forehead. “Tired is one thing. This is something else.”
I try to smile, but my muscles feel heavy. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Julian...”
“Olivia, look at me.”
I do. I look at him and the sheer intensity in his eyes catches me off guard.
“You have barely eaten,” he says.
“I’m eating.”
“You pick at your food.”
“I have just been stressed.”
“You fall asleep halfway through every movie.”
“Those movies were boring.”
He lets out a short laugh. “You were asleep before the opening credits.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” His thumb brushes my cheek. His skin feels hot against my own.
“I’m tired of watching you wilt inside this penthouse.”
My stomach twists. “I don’t have the energy to go anywhere.”
“Good thing I already planned everything.”
My eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”
“It means there’s a car downstairs.”
My stomach drops. “Julian.”
“A plane is waiting.”
“A plane?” What is he up to now?
I stare at him. The absurdity of it hangs in the air. “You arranged all of this without asking me?”
“I knew you would say no.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It’s exactly the point.”
I shake my head. “You are impossible.”
“And you’re coming with me.” His expression softens. “One night.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere quiet.” His hand closes around mine. His grip is firm and solid.
“Somewhere you can breathe and relax.”
I try to find the words to argue. To tell him no. They don’t come. Exhaustion drags at my limbs. I nod. Giving in.
His smile appears instantly. “Good.”
“Bossy.”
“Very.”
Two hours later, I lean against the cool window of a private jet. The cabin is silent except for the soft hum of the engines. Julian sits across from me, holding my hand. His thumb moves slowly across my knuckles.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
His gaze lifts. “A private estate.”
“That sounds suspiciously rich.”
“It is suspiciously rich.”
Despite everything, I smile. “Where is it?”
“South.”
“Helpful.”
“The mountains.” His eyes soften. “It is quiet there.”
I study him. “You really thought I needed time off?”
“I think you have been carrying too much for too long.”
I look down at our joined hands. “No interruptions?”
“Just us.”
The tension in my shoulders leaves.
We land. The air hits me, crisp and smelling of pine and damp earth.
A black SUV waits on the tarmac. A driver holds the door open, and Julian guides me into the back seat.
The drive up the winding mountain road takes an hour.
Julian holds my hand all the way to wherever we are headed.
Tires crunch over gravel as we pull up to the gates.
The estate sits perched on the crest of the hill, overlooking a sea of autumn trees.
It is a sprawling, multi-level structure of light-colored siding and stone, with wide, wrap-around decks that promise a view of the entire valley.
It looks less like a house and more like a retreat built to hide away from the world.
We step onto the wide, wooden deck. A table is set for two. A light lunch sits waiting. There is fruit, crusty bread, and freshly squeezed juice. I look out over the Blue Ridge Mountains. The view stretches forever. It’s breathtaking.
I turn to Julian. “Who owns this place?”
“I do,” he says. He pours juice into my glass. “I come here to escape the city. To find some quiet.”
I nod. We sit and have a quiet lunch, taking in the beauty of the landscape.
After lunch and small talk he says, “Let me show you around.”
He stands and offers his hand.
He leads me inside. The foyer is cavernous.
Ceilings stretch two stories high, supported by massive timber beams. The floors are polished concrete, cold under my feet.
We pass a glass-walled library and a kitchen that looks untouched.
He guides me up a floating staircase of steel and dark oak.
At the end of the long hallway, he opens a heavy door.
The master bedroom is massive, dominated by a wall of windows that face the mountains.
We had a relaxing afternoon sitting on the wooden deck.
I sipped herbal tea to help with the queasiness.
It must be the fresh air that I’m not used to, or I’m coming down with a stomach bug because I feel so nauseous at times.
Julian has been nursing his whiskey for the past hour.
I can feel his eyes on me every now and then.
By late afternoon, the queasiness subsided and we decided to watch movies.
Blue light washes over the dark living room, throwing long shadows across the ceiling.
We stretch out on the deep cushions, letting the TV screen play movie after movie while our phones sit abandoned down the hall. The world has shrunk to the glow of the TV and the solid, warm weight of Julian’s arm looped over my shoulders.
The quiet of this place is so surreal. I love it here.
“I could get used to this,” I say.
Julian shifts, his forearm tightening around me to pull my back flush against his chest.
“The quiet?”
“Everything. The way it feels as if the whole world just stops.”
“That’s why I brought you here. The quiet, the beauty.
” His lips brush my temple, a slow pressure that lingers before he speaks against my skin.
“We can do this again soon. But then, we can stay however long you want to. I arranged this for you to just unwind for a day or so. Believe me, it can sometimes do wonders, getting away from the busy life we lead.”
I must’ve fallen asleep. I wake when he puts me down on the bed.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“After midnight. You didn’t even make it to the first part of the movie,” he says, laughing softly at the idea of me passing out so early.
He moves to the cupboard where our clothes are already unpacked, bringing over my PJs. “Here,” he says, handing them to me.
“Want me to help you get dressed?” He winks and smiles jokingly.
Shaking my head and smiling, I tell him, “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll wash up first, and I can dress myself, Mr. Thorne.”
He laughs louder now.
When I’m done, we both get into bed and just lie there. My head is on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while he strokes my arm in slow circles. And that is how we fall asleep.
The morning sun cuts through the sheer curtains, long streaks flowing over the bed and the floor.
The mountain air stings my cheeks as we climb the ridge line for a morning hike, directly behind the house.
We don’t break the stillness with words.
We just breathe, our hiking boots grinding into the loose shale with every step up the incline.
When we reach the summit, the view opens up.
The horizon goes on forever. No sirens echo through the valley.
No car horns vibrate in the air. There is only the wind rushing through the needles of the pines, a sound so hollow and pure that my ears ring from the sheer lack of noise.
The peace and quiet come to an end by late afternoon.
The black SUV idles at the edge of the gravel turnaround, its engine vibrating with a low, restless rumble.
We get into the back seat. The drive down the mountain path feels like a countdown, a slow descent right back into the crushing gravity of our real lives.
The private jet cuts through the cloud layer, and I press my forehead to the glass to look back at the Blue Ridge mountains.
The peaks are already dwindling, flattening into a dark, jagged smear against the sky.
The captain’s voice comes through the overhead speakers, cutting the cabin silence to announce our approach into the city.
My stomach knots as the pressure returns.
The chaotic spread of the city is waiting for us. The quiet is gone now.
Back in the penthouse, everything feels different again. We are back to reality, and whatever tomorrow brings.