Chapter 9 Olivia #2
“And you’ll probably hate this one too.”
“Isaac,” I warn.
“Yes, Olivia?” he mocks with an undeniable lightness in his tone I loved so much when we were younger.
“Close your eyes for me.” I do as he asks, shifting to get comfortable.
“I know you’re not starfishing. Turn onto your left side and slide your hands under the pillow like you used to.
I’ll stay on my side of the bed, and you stay on yours. ”
“But that means my back is to you.” It comes out a little breathier than it should’ve. “Sorry.”
“Why? You know damn well if I was there I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. In my sleep, I’d reach for you, pulling you to me, just like I did every time you turned in my arms.”
My throat is tight. “Why are you torturing me?” We can’t do this, or at least we shouldn’t. How is it after all this time he can have my emotions twisted up like a damn pretzel?
“I don’t mean to. But, fuck, Livy, not a single day has passed that I haven’t thought about you. Just hearing your voice after seeing all that you’ve accomplished… the ache in my chest that never really left only got worse.”
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, heart breaking all over again.
“Don’t be, but please let me get this out.
And stop apologizing. Are you sure you’re not Canadian?
” His question has me smiling again. “I know I shouldn't be asking anything of you, but I want you in my life, in whatever way you’ll let me be in yours. So, while I’m sorry if I overstepped, the truth is, if I could go back in time, I would’ve done so many things differently. ”
“Same.” It’s the only word I can manage. I turn onto my side, facing an invisible Isaac, reaching to the cold sheets and comforter beside me. He's right—things would be so different, he’d be mine. But that’s not our reality. “If I come for your summit, do you promise you’ll behave?”
“Would I treat you the same as any other attendee while in public? Absolutely. But you and I both know that every time we’re in the same room together, I’ll be imagining tracing every inch of your body with my tongue.”
My core clenches and an involuntary whimper escapes me. I clamp my hand over my mouth even if the damage is already done.
“Tell me to stop.”
I should—really fucking should—but can’t bring myself to do it. I miss everything about him, so damn much. I remove my hand, swallowing thickly. “Don’t stop.” It comes out barely above a whisper.
“Is that the melatonin talking? Or do you want me to tell you about how if I was there, my face would be between your legs for the rest of the night?"
My entire body aches to be touched by him, but if we do this, there’s no coming back from it.
And then what? Phone sex for years until one of us is in a relationship with another person?
It isn’t as if I have any real future with him.
I’d be scratching an itch. He was so much more than just a guy I dated for a few months in college.
I lost more than a boyfriend when he left.
I lost my best friend. If I’m not careful, it’ll happen again.
Keeping my tone light, I offer, “As amazing as that sounds, your description of a tongue lashing will need to wait for another time. But I’ll stay on the phone with you until you need to get up.”
“You have a deal, gorgeous, except I’m going to stay on until you wake up.”
“You’ll be at work,” I laugh, snuggling the comforter closer.
“I’ll have earbuds in. No one will be the wiser. If I have to take a call, I’ll have to hang up, but I’m not ready to yet.”
“Okay,” I concede. “Good night, Isaac.”
“Night, Livy.”
A few quiet moments pass, and there’s a faint sound of snoring. Shortly after, sleep finds me, and a few hours later I wake to our call no longer active. My stomach sinks, but what did I expect? It’s nearly nine in the morning for him.
But… there are a few texts.
Isaac
Sorry I had to go, but hope you have an amazing morning.
What sounds good for lunch?
I should’ve predicted this. After our first date, we were practically inseparable.
If I wasn’t at work or in class, we were together.
Most of it was happenstance—running into each other while studying at the library or the grocery store.
I swear if the technology existed to track someone back then, I would’ve thought he was stalking me.
He wasn’t. It was the damn universe shoving us together only to rip us apart.
Once I’m settled into my home office, and with nothing to lose, I shoot off a quick reply.
Working from home until the media circus dies down. I’ll probably just have a palmful of wasabi-flavored almonds in a rush.
His message appears mere seconds later.
Don’t make me send you Mongolian BBQ.
Don’t make me send you sushi. We both know it won’t travel well.
Should we split nachos?
I doubt those would travel well either.
Only one way to find out.
He sets his phone to Do Not Disturb, leaving me reeling.
What the hell did he mean by that? I don’t have a moment to process it as Aubrey enters, dumping her purse onto the edge of my desk in a huff as she sits in the armchair across from me.
Without a word, she pulls out her laptop, placing it on her legs and aggressively pressing the power button.
“Everything okay?” I hedge.
I give her a minute while she types her username and password into the computer, but she types as if the keys have personally wronged her. “No,” she grumbles, not glancing up. “Men are fucking stupid.”
“Agreed, but what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” After a deep sigh, she launches in.
“Science is advanced now. We don’t need men.
They can just splooge into a cup and boom!
Society endures. Fuck these assholes who make us feel special when they just ghost you or want a situationship.
” She air-quotes the last word with one hand, and I do my best not to laugh.
“Sorry, I’m just annoyed at men being… men. ”
“So, I’m guessing things didn’t go well with Brad.”
“Chad,” Aubrey corrects. “And no, it was another bullshit date.” She finally looks up. “Why are you smiling?”
“I’m not,” I fib, doing my best to hide my amusement. I’m unsure if I should tell her about Isaac yet, since she’ll probably judge me or at least insist I stop talking to him. She’d be correct, but for now, I want to keep last night to myself. “What happened with your date?”
“It’s not just one thing. It’s like that feeling when you’ve had one too many espresso martinis than you should’ve.
You’re definitely drunk—but not throw-up drunk—and your lips tingle a little, and you feel amazing.
But deep down, you know you’re about to crash so fucking hard, and the morning regrets will follow. ”
“And here we are in your morning regrets?”
“Yes,” she groans. Returning her attention to her laptop, she continues, “It was all fun and games until I found out he was just laid off from his investment firm, and over morning coffee, he admitted he’s looking at ‘making it big’ in crypto.
I don’t need money; I want a real connection…
Wait a minute.” She cocks an eyebrow and glares at me.
“You’re definitely smiling, and my story is not that amusing. ”
“I’m not, I promise.”
She smirks. “What did you do last night?”
“Nothing,” I fib again. “I’m just stressed with everything happening. My face just hasn’t caught up with the fact that I’m not in front of a camera.”
“Right.” Her eyes narrow.
“I’m serious, Bree!” I hate lying to her, but what’s the alternative?
“Right,” she repeats, keeping her narrowed gaze pinned on me. “You can tell me later once we wrap up our morning meetings. But so help me, if you’re talking to that hot Canadian…”
I can’t lie a fourth time and instead busy myself with my work.
Thankfully, she drops it, and for the next few hours, we comb through media inquiries with my team, have no less than a dozen video calls, and adjust next week’s schedule.
My stomach grumbles—my own fault for not eating breakfast—and I reach for my almond stash in my desk, popping a handful into my mouth before replying to an email.
Half an hour later, Westley alerts me that there’s a food delivery for Aubrey. Her eyes flash to mine, shaking her head. “I didn’t order anything, did you?”
“No. Wes, where is it from?”
He shrugs, checking his device. “It appears to be a standard delivery. He has all of the right credentials, and Ned said it’s cleared. There’s a note accompanying it.”
“What does it say? It better not be from Chad,” Aubrey hisses. He hands it to her and she reads it aloud. “Since she won’t let me send her gifts, please make sure Livy eats more than almonds for lunch.” It takes less than three seconds before she scolds, “Olivia.”
“What? I may have mentioned to someone that I didn’t have plans for lunch.”
She folds her arms over her chest and sits back in her chair. “Someone? Could it be the same someone who sent you coffee yesterday?”
“There are four platters of enchiladas, and a large portion of nachos,” Wes interjects. We both glance over to the doorway at him. “I’ll have someone confirm the delivery before anyone eats.”
As quickly as he came, he’s gone, and once his retreating footsteps are nonexistent, Aubrey whisper-shouts, “You talked to Isaac last night, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t like that. We only talked. That’s all.”
“Bull fucking shit. No wonder you’re smiling today.
And you have a glow about you. Did you have phone sex?
Please tell me you didn’t have phone sex.
We have to see him in a few months, and I know damn well it’ll be written all over your face if you two bang it out when we’re in D.C. for the inauguration."
I bark a laugh. “Bang it out? Seriously? We’re just… friends.”
“Friends? Come on, Livy. You and Isaac were anything but friends. There’s no way in hell you can have a platonic relationship with him.
In two months, you’re going to be sworn in.
Do you really think getting involved with the Prime Minister of Canada is the best idea?
That was rhetorical, by the way. There are so many people who are looking for an excuse to tear you down.
This? This would tear you down, babe.” She reaches out her hand expectantly. “Let me see your phone.”
“Why?” I squeak.
Aubrey snatches it from my desk before I can stop her, but then hands it back to me. “Unlock it.”
“Okay, yes, fine. I admit it! There may have been some less than friendly conversations last night. But it’s nothing. He’s probably just lonely and I’m ovulating. In a few days, he’ll forget all about me.”
“Not likely. Did you at least delete the messages?”
“No,” I admit, hating that I’ve been so careless.
Isaac and I discussed changing our names in each other’s phones, and I haven’t even done that. Unlocking it, there’s a new message from him, and my belly swoops at seeing his name.
Isaac
Did they travel well?
I bite my lip to hide my smile, but Aubrey sees right through it, scoffing, “Yeah. Just friends.”