Chapter 5 Olivia
Olivia
“Ah, yes, I can see it. Brilliant candidate, with an equally great sense of humor, runs for Governor of California.”
He was right.
But also… fuck him for calling me.
Deep down, I knew he would, but really hoped he wouldn’t.
It hurts too much even hearing his name.
I tried so fucking hard to get over him…
and failed. When Isaac became Prime Minister, I should’ve called to congratulate him, but couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I didn’t have anything to blame it on other than self-preservation.
Hearing him on TV or in clips on social media was enough of a struggle.
Now I have his old, whispered words echoing in my ears.
I haven’t seen him since he broke my heart all those years ago.
It wasn’t his fault, but it still hurt. I’ve avoided anything that could ever be associated with the one man I’ll never have and figured he was doing the same.
After listening to his voicemail, I never should’ve called him back.
Hearing him call me Livy broke me. Maybe part of me wanted the torture, like I deserved to reopen the wound.
Shoving aside thoughts of Isaac, I take a deep breath, straighten my posture, and answer a video call from Vice President Vasileiou, “Good afternoon, Madam Vice President.”
“Good afternoon. But, please, no need for formalities,” she insists with a light chuckle.
Someone off-screen whispers something to her.
“It seems Jaclyn is able to join us after all. One moment.” After a few seconds, President Taylor joins the meeting.
While I’ve met both women several times, I’m speaking to them not just as Olivia Harris, but also representing my state. It has me on edge.
“Congratulations, Ms. Harris,” President Taylor joins in with a wide smile.
Her honey-blonde hair is tied up in a neat bun, but otherwise looks as if she stepped out of a magazine spread.
I make a mental note that I need to ask Aubrey about how to up my makeup game now that I’m no longer just a widowed lobbyist. “I’m sorry for the short notice of this meeting.
Ileah and I saw the little stunt you pulled at the women’s shelter,” she continues. “Impressive. Brilliant, really.”
“Stunt? No, Madam President, it really wasn’t for publicity,” I insist. “As I told the press, I’ve been volunteering there for years. I’ve always been able to keep a low profile, but someone must’ve followed me this time.”
She briefly draws her lips into her mouth to hide her amusement, but her smile still reaches her eyes. “I was hoping you’d say that. We’ve been in discussion with a few other representatives and would like to support your proposal to fund school lunches as a nationwide effort.”
“That’s incredible news,” I sigh in relief, grateful to not be reprimanded by one of the most powerful women in the world.
“I’ve reviewed the budget, and we have the funding here in California allocated for the next ten years, but so many other states don’t have the resources to do it.
I’ve seen it executed beautifully in other countries, so it shouldn’t be difficult to model our program after theirs. ”
“Exactly,” Ileah agrees. “Which is why we’re also reaching out to a few international leaders.
We’ll be hosting a summit to include a variety of experts in nutrition, public relations, social work, and a few economic advisors.
Our hope is we can also partner with local farmers to help support them as well.
We’d love for you to attend. Jaclyn or I will also be there, depending on our schedules. ”
“Yes, of course. I’d love to. When and where would it be held?”
Jaclyn squints at something in the corner of her computer screen. “I’m hoping for February or March—we want to have you sworn in first. We’ve already spoken with Prime Minister Banks, as well as two other prominent world leaders.”
I choose the wrong time to take a drink of water and sputter a cough. “Prime Minister Banks?”
“Yes,” she confirms, “he’ll be hosting the meetings for us in Ontario. He’s agreed to partner with us, so we’ll have his team reach out to formally invite you.”
I wince at her suggestion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s the best idea.”
“Oh?” Jaclyn smirks with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with your brief relationship with the Prime Minister?”
I swallow thickly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Our sources say otherwise,” Ileah chuckles. “We’ve been briefed that you were in a short-lived romantic relationship with the Prime Minister when you were in college. Our hope is that it won’t affect your attendance—this cause is too important.”
Today has officially gone from bad to worse.
She’s right. Not attending simply because my ex will be there is ridiculous, but I should offer an alternative for both Isaac’s and my sake.
For all I know, he has no clue I’ve been invited.
“I could do it remotely?” I rush out, then clear my throat as I collect myself to not sound as eager.
“With it taking place in Canada, my concern is more about timing and travel since I’ll only be in office for a month or two. ”
Cocking an eyebrow, she purses her lips in a standoff. When I don’t budge, she sighs, “I’m sure that could be arranged.”
“Great,” I reply a little more cheerfully than necessary. “I’ll let his team know when they reach out.”
We exchange a few congratulatory pleasantries before hanging up, and I’m relieved I’ve escaped the in-person invitation.
I can’t blame them for trying to capitalize on viral videos, but while I love how it’s all drawn attention to issues I’m passionate about, I don’t want to be the poster child—especially if it means I have to see Isaac again.
Attending remotely is best for all of us.
The rest of the day is uneventful, filled with press interviews, meetings with staff, and communication with the transition team.
I definitely have my work cut out for me in January, but have the best team anyone could ask for.
Statistically, I never should’ve won. I could’ve used my late husband’s last name, and it would’ve guaranteed the vote.
But it didn’t feel right. I wanted to earn this on my own, even if I have an uphill climb to win over half of my state who didn’t vote for me.
I never wanted a life in politics, but when Phil was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer, I was thrust into it.
It started by connecting with nonprofits, which turned into working with lobbyists, to then becoming one myself.
Phil never smoked a day in his life—none of it made sense.
I couldn’t sit idly by as I watched him die before my eyes.
Losing him was one of the hardest days of my life.
We may not have been soulmates, but he had become my best friend.
He’d be so damn proud of what we’ve accomplished since he passed.
I can only hope I’m doing enough to honor his memory.
It’s been five years. Five years without the man who never measured up to the love of my life.
Still, twice a week, I show up at the shelter where his mother hid from her abuser when Phil was a child.
Is it guilt? A little. But it brings me peace to know I can make a difference in someone’s life.
It helps that no one at the shelter cares who I am.
To them, I’m just Livy. Not Olivia Harris, gubernatorial candidate.
Or Olivia Harris, Governor-elect. Just… me.
And now I’m on the radar of the President, and even world leaders—including Isaac.
I take a deep breath and wrap up a few emails, then head home.
The entire ride, my mind is reeling, still riding the high of election night, but I also can’t stop thinking about Isaac.
We only had a few short months together, but he left me heartbroken, and I never fully recovered.
Stuffed down my feelings? Sure. But I never got over him.
There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to see him again in person without being flooded with emotions.
My entire body aches as if I worked out earlier—adrenaline is no friend of mine.
The crash is slowly washing over me, and the moment I’m home and upstairs, I turn on the faucet of my tub.
After dumping in a floral bath bomb, I toss in a few squirts of my favorite vanilla body wash.
As the water fills, I tie my hair up and undress, then dip my toes into the water.
It’s no secret I’ve become a fan of a little pain with my pleasure, but the extra-hot water takes a little getting used to.
I step all the way in and slide under the water.
Each delicious inch is better than the first, washing away the last few months of stress, anxiety, and chaos.
I let out a long sigh as my body adjusts to the temperature. I swear my entire soul leaves my body.
The bath bomb is nearly dissolved, filling my bathroom with a perfect blend of rose, lavender, and vanilla.
Even with several minutes of soaking, I can’t fully relax.
Glancing over to my trusty waterproof vibe, I side-eye her—we both know what will help me, but after I’ve been thinking of Isaac today, she’s the last thing I need.
Two more minutes pass, then five, then eight…
Fuck it.
“Okay, you little bitch, you better solve all of my problems, or you’re getting shoved into the back of a drawer for the next month,” I grumble, clicking the power button.
It comes to life, and I increase the intensity to the third setting.
Slipping it beneath the water, I conjure a recurring fantasy that almost always brings me over the edge.
“I want to taste every inch of you,“ a faceless man insists. His voice is low, hungry, but eerily familiar.
“Yes, Daddy,” I breathe, pressing the vibrator against my clit harder. “Show me I’m yours.”
“I’m yours, always, just as you’ve always been mine, Livy.”