Chapter 9 Hallucinations
hallucinations
The Sunday after her unexpected collision with Jaime at the gala and their subsequent night together, Olivia arrived late at her parents’ place for dinner. She loved their Sunday dinners.
It was a long-standing tradition, and no matter what else happened, all her siblings tried to attend.
Jack, after marrying Emily, had simply been integrated, and her parents loved having their children and grandchild around them.
When they were younger, their table had been more sparsely decorated, with food at times scarce, but it never affected their joy in being together.
Something dampened the happiness she usually felt at spending time with her family this Sunday. Not even her run through Freedom Park had been able to chase away the gloomy cloud one Jaime Lachlan had left behind.
As soon as Olivia entered her parents’ house, her nephew Luca ran toward her, holding a still damp painting of the ocean. “Auntie Liv, look at this!”
She inspected the image, the yellow sand, blue water with the sun reflecting off the surface.
“Do you like it?” Luca rocked back and forth on his socked feet; his face flushed.
“Oh, wow. That’s so awesome! Did you draw this?” She smiled.
Luca nodded rapidly.
“You’re a great artist. I’m impressed.”
Her nephew beamed. “Thanks.” He dashed off.
“Hey Liv,” Emily exited the kitchen and greeted Olivia with a hug. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Of course. Why do you ask?” She rubbed her hands against her pants legs.
“Don’t know.” She canted her head, reaching out and wiping her finger down Olivia’s forehead toward her nose. “That frown, maybe.”
Olivia swatted her away. “You’re nuts.”
Emily hummed. “Dad made his famous stuffed grape leaves, so watch out.”
Olivia grimaced. Her father loved cooking, and he generally was a decent cook, but ever since her parents’ first vacation, a two-week trip to Turkey—courtesy of Olivia’s first big bonus years ago—he’d been obsessed with the dish.
It took him forever to prepare, and he was so proud of it, yet they always, without fail, tasted absolutely horrible.
However, no one had the heart to tell him, and so they ate them, suffering in silence.
Growing up, her parents worked double and triple shifts at dead-end jobs and they still struggled, often needing to decide which utility they’d go without.
Their four kids always had something to eat, but in retrospect, Olivia realized there had been plenty of days where her parents had gone without.
It had been Olivia’s fervent wish to help, and at first, she’d done so with summer jobs and even a few shifts at fast-food joints during her last two years of high school. Becoming a lawyer and joining a big, successful law firm had been her way out, and a chance to help her family.
“Come on.” Emily grasped her hand and dragged her toward the dining room. “Everyone’s pretty much ready. Why are you so late, anyway? New love on the horizon?”
“What? No. Of course not!” Olivia frowned for real. “Work. I was busy.”
“On a Sunday?”
Olivia shrugged. “The law never stops.” They entered the dining room and indeed, her family already sat around the table, laughing and chatting.
She smiled, greeting them and settling in her seat. She tried to stay with them, join in their conversations and have a regular, lovely Sunday evening with her loved ones. Instead, her mind returned to waking up alone the previous morning.
No Jaime, no note.
The toothbrush mocking her in its plastic box inside her bathroom drawer.
She’d been furious with herself for even hoping Jaime would stay, and, as she stood in her bathroom, the cold of the tiles seeped into her bare feet while she stared at the untouched toothbrush, wishing she’d never even entered that blasted bar during her last conference.
She needed to get a grip, and she needed to forget about Jaime. If only she could make a clean cut, but work made that impossible.
Olivia shook her head, trying to focus on the surrounding conversation.
“Emily, I told you to leave it to Jack to bring the groceries into the house! I don’t know why you even went shopping,” her mother grumbled, shooting an accusatory glare at Jack, who immediately raised his hands.
“Don’t blame me! I told her to leave them in the car, and I’d also offered to go shopping.”
“Don’t offer, just do it.” The spoon full of rice hitting her mother’s plate clanged.
“Mom, I’m fine. I’m pregnant, not an invalid, and I needed to get out of the house,” Emily said, grasping Jack’s hand.
“You didn’t go to that gala so you could relax, and then what, the next day you need to go shopping?”
Her mother turned to Olivia. “How was the gala? Did you have fun? Jack said you left early.”
“What?” Olivia blinked owlishly.
“The gala Friday night.” Her mother canted her head. “What is it with you? You’ve been distracted all evening.”
Images of Jaime in that arresting dress, her sly smile, and challenging words later at her place, swamped Olivia. When she’d entered her living room the next morning, she’d sworn Jaime’s perfume, an enticing mix of sandalwood and jasmine, seemed to hang in the air.
Preposterous.
“Sorry.” Olivia cleared her throat. “I just got a lot on my mind. The gala was fine. I had a headache and called it a night early.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes, her gaze drifting between Olivia and Emily. “You both need to take better care of yourselves. Look at Rachel and Danny. They don’t look as stressed as you do!”
“Yes, Mom,” both Olivia and Emily said at the same time. For sure, their younger siblings had not experienced as much trouble as Olivia and Emily, not that she minded, but today, her mother’s comment rubbed her the wrong way. She gazed at her plate, pushing the chicken and vegetables around.
“Here, sweetheart, eat some dolma. I think they’re my best ones yet.” Her father held up the plate with filled grape leaves.
“Of course, Dad.” She stabbed one with her fork and put it on her plate, staring morosely at the wrapped dish.
The following week, Olivia threw herself into work, burying herself in a mountain of paperwork. For once, those dry briefs and documents—usually a task she longed to set on fire—felt like a welcome distraction.
Or so she thought.
As the days stretched on, she realized the paperwork, while tedious, didn’t demand the deep focus she needed to fully escape her thoughts. Her mind seized the monotony, slipping away to wander along paths she wished would stay closed off.
She’d volunteered for tasks she typically avoided—anything to stay in the office, hidden behind her desk, rather than face the courtroom. Olivia had had enough dealing with Jaime during the last days of the Lanx trial, and if she could avoid further interactions, she’d do so.
She loathed the very idea of running into Jaime. The mixture of hurt and fury churning in her gut told her she wouldn’t be able to handle it. Not yet at least. Time would surely take care of it.
Yet time seemed to drag, a string of chewing gum stretched to infinity.
Each day became a battle between wanting to forget Jaime and being haunted by her.
Olivia’s fingers would pause over the keyboard, and her mind would wander, recalling the heat of Jaime’s gaze or the entrancing coolness of her voice, the silky feel of her skin.
She had no idea what she’d do if they did meet—probably something humiliating, like stammering through a greeting or, worse, losing her temper in front of everyone. She couldn’t afford either.
Olivia couldn’t wait for the weekend to arrive. She even contemplated going running on both days, yet whenever she found herself in a mood, she tended to overdo it, and last time, she’d aggravated her knee and couldn’t run for almost a month. Not something she was keen on repeating.
No, she’d lose herself in fiction, either via reading or watching shows. Maybe a bit of both. She might call Emily, and they’d chat for a while, considering her doctor had put her on bedrest until the baby was born, and her sister wasn’t…pleased. Poor Jack.
Finally, the weekend arrived. She spent Friday night with a glass of merlot and some French fries, almost dumping both in the trash when she recalled the night in the bar—the wine, the heat, Jaime.
Frustrated, Olivia had retired for the night earlier than her usual Friday habit, cursing the memories that led her back to the same place.
After a pleasant talk with a pouty and exasperated Emily the next day, and after judging a few more of Luca’s paintings as excellent, Olivia settled on the couch to watch something—anything.
She flicked through the channels with restless fingers, rolling her eyes when she came across Law & Order. A legal drama, of course.
“Perfect,” she muttered dryly.
The prosecutor on the screen made some grand speech to the jury, and Olivia winced.
“No one talks like that.” She shook her head, thinking of Jaime. God, Jaime would glare disdainfully at any attorney daring to give such a speech. She shifted on the couch, both annoyed and exasperated at the heat flushing her skin as she pictured Jaime’s controlled ire in the courtroom.
How long would it take for the infernal woman to exit her mind?
Perhaps she needed to find someone else. Her sister once told her the best way to get over someone was to get under someone new. She knew her sister hadn’t invented the saying, but she’d still spat out her drink at hearing those words leave her sister’s mouth.
Again, Olivia was quite comfortable with one-night stands, but the thought of seeking such an adventure now left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Olivia huffed and rose, turning off the TV and dumping the remote on her couch before stalking to the bedroom. She might as well get more rest, especially since she planned to go all out tomorrow and completely exhaust herself.