Chapter 5 Olivia
CHAPTER FIVE
Olivia
My heart is doing a weird gymnastics routine in my chest, probably because I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about him for a good couple of days now.
“Liv!” Ivy’s voice rings out from the door, and before I know it, I’m swept into her arms. “You came!”
“Of course,” I say, laughing despite myself. “I’d never miss a chance to witness your domestic nightmare in action.”
Ivy pulls back and eyes me, scanning for an emotional breakdown. “You look like you’ve been run over by a truck. You good?”
I force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “Oh, you know, just the usual: corporate life, existential dread, and unnecessary anxiety. Same old.”
Her eyes practically spark with curiosity, but before she can ask more, she shifts into mom mode and hands me Max. “Here, hold him while I grab a bottle for Lily.”
I glance down at the squishy, adorable little creature in my arms, and instantly, I feel like the world’s worst aunt.
It’s not that I don’t like babies. I’m just bad at holding them without panicking. I adjust him awkwardly, trying not to feel the heat of impending disaster.
Meanwhile, Ivy’s Frenchie, Pickle, decides that now is the perfect moment to chase its tail at full speed, barking like a lunatic. I can’t even make this up.
“What’s going on here?” I ask, trying to focus on the cute little human in my arms and not the havoc surrounding me.
“Timothy tried to take a nap,” Ivy says dryly from the kitchen, “but Mia’s latest tantrum has turned our living room into a warzone. Triplets are… crazy.”
I glance over at Timothy, who looks utterly defeated, like he’s moments away from calling for backup.
Lily, meanwhile, is in full meltdown mode, standing on the couch, screaming as if the world’s about to end. I can’t help it. I laugh.
“I’m beginning to think I might prefer corporate life to this,” I joke, trying to make light of my ungraceful baby-holding skills. “Although Max is super cute while he’s napping…”
“I heard that,” Timothy chuckles. “They’re all adorable when they’re asleep.”
“Yeah, right.” I give him a teasing look as Ivy re-enters the room.
She’s got that glow about her, as if motherhood is the most effortless thing in the world. I am so not ready for any of this.
I hand the baby back to Ivy and then gratefully grab my coffee, trying to avoid making eye contact with her. Because if she looks at me too closely, I know she’ll see right through me.
“So,” Ivy begins, settling into the couch next to me, “how’s everything? Are you enjoying Coyote Glen? I’m sorry I didn’t make it to dinner the other night.”
I wave a hand to stop her. “Max being sick was way more important. But the town…”
I take a deep breath and clutch my coffee cup like it’s my lifeline.
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s pretending everything’s fine. But that doesn’t stop the sudden flood of guilt that hits me. Because, let’s be honest, I shouldn’t have slept with Jesse. That wasn’t part of the plan.
“Well, I’m enjoying it actually,” I say too quickly, my smile a little too wide. “I’m adjusting… slowly. Coyote Glen’s nice. I get why you decided to live here.”
I give her a look because it wasn’t so much the small-town charm that reeled my best friend in. More of the hot twins, Mitchell and Timothy, and her boss, Freddie, with whom she fell in love.
Something it’s hard to wrap my head around, even when I see it.
Ivy eyes me suspiciously, and I know that look. It’s the "you’re being way too calm, so something’s definitely up" look. I try to shrug it off with another sip of my coffee, but I feel her gaze like a laser beam.
“Anything interesting happen yet?”
My cheeks burn.
Does she know?
I’d better say something, just in case.
“Erm, well, actually, on my first night, when you couldn’t make it to dinner, I saw Jesse and we went to eat instead.”
I am a mess inside. I really hope she can’t read between the lines, because I will be in trouble with a capital T.
Damn it, why didn’t I just keep my hands off him?
“You did?” Ivy grins. “That’s so good, I was so worried about you. Did he show you around a bit?”
I can only just about manage to give her a one-shouldered shrug. “A little, yeah.”
“Auntie Olivia?”
I spin around to see Ivy’s other addition to the family, four-year-old Penny, burst into the room. Her tiny legs move like a blur as she races toward me with a piece of toast in her hand.
“Auntie Olivia, I made a mess!” she announces proudly, her face a mix of excitement and mischief.
She waggles her fingers at me, her grin wide enough to suggest she’s expecting a reaction.
“What kind of mess, sweetie?” I ask, leaning back on the couch to avoid her sticky little hands.
“I put jam on my shoes,” Penny informs me matter-of-factly, as though that’s the most normal thing in the world.
She holds out her shoe, the sticky red smear on it evidence of her latest culinary adventure.
Oh no.
Ivy looks like she’s about to say something, but seems to rethink it, clearly resigned to the chaos her daughter brings.
“Penny,” she says gently, “why did you put jam on your shoes?”
“Because I wanted to make them yummy,” Penny replies, eyes wide as though the answer is obvious.
I can’t help it. Laughter bubbles up from deep within me, and I snort into my coffee.
“That’s… a very creative solution, Penny,” I manage to say, trying to keep my words from cracking. “But I’m not sure jam shoes are the next big trend.”
Penny pouts, thinking this over.
“Maybe you should try them,” she offers, with all the serious charm a four-year-old can muster. Then, with all the grace of a toddler, she clambers up onto the couch beside me and settles herself right in my lap, ignoring the jam-covered shoe entirely. “You need to fix my shoes now, Auntie Olivia.”
I’m not sure if I’m more horrified by the sticky mess or by how naturally it feels for her to just plop down on me like this. But honestly? I kind of love it.
Despite my awkwardness with babies earlier, Penny’s charm is nearly impossible to resist.
“Uhh, I think Mommy is the one you need for shoes,” I say, trying to shift the responsibility.
But Penny shakes her head vigorously.
“No, you. You’re my friend.” She says it as if it's a fact, as if there’s no other option.
And damn, if that doesn’t tug at my heartstrings a little.
Ivy chuckles. “She’s got you there, Liv. You can’t escape the jam shoes now.”
I look down at Penny, whose hair is as wild as her spirit, and who is currently attempting to curl up like a little cat in my lap. Despite my initial hesitation about jumping into this kind of chaos, I find myself oddly moved.
Her tiny hands clutch at my sweater, making herself at home.
As if feeling my hesitation, Ivy slides closer, making her movements graceful despite the mini tornado she has in her life. She shoots me a knowing look and says, “It’s good for you, Liv. This whole mess. Trust me, it’ll make you feel more alive than a corporate job ever will.”
“I’m sure it will,” I say, though I don’t sound entirely convincing.
The conversation shifts to my job, which is the last thing I want to talk about right now, but of course, it’s the one thing that’s been gnawing at me.
“So, how’s the break from work? Is Richard still on your case?” Ivy asks, casually reaching over to adjust Penny’s wayward curls, as if this is just a typical Tuesday conversation.
Richard.
The name alone sends a small bolt of anxiety through me. I take a sip of my coffee, hoping the caffeine will somehow magic away the uncomfortable tension that’s been sitting in my chest for the last few days.
“Oh, Richard’s been a real delight,” I say with a humorless chuckle, even though it comes out sounding more like a pained sigh. “Just the usual. Harassing me with late-night emails about ‘urgent matters’ even though I’m off.”
Ivy raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying my half-hearted attempt at a joke. “Liv, you can’t seriously be considering going back to that, can you? He sounds like a nightmare.”
I swallow, feeling my stomach twist at the thought of going back to that soul sucking office, dealing with his passive-aggressive email chains, and the constant pressure to prove myself when I was already stretched thin.
“I mean, it’s complicated, you know? I’ve put years into that job.”
Ivy looks at me, her expression falling as she sees the strain on me. “Liv, I get it, but you’ve also been talking about burnout for how long now? I really don’t like to see you so strained. I mean, what about Coyote Glen? Why not… stay?”
I laugh, despite myself. “You’re trying to convince me to ditch my high-powered corporate job for a town that has more single firefighters than there are people in my old office. I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”
Ivy grins, her eyes sparkling. “You know what? It’s worth considering. You’ve been drowning in that job for so long, Liv. Maybe it’s time to make a big change. And you know I would love it.”
“I’d love to see you more, too, but I don’t know if I can.”
I’m at a crossroads in my life, though. I just need to decide which path to take next.