17. Olivia
Olivia
The gym smelled like sweat, disinfectant, and bad decisions. I should’ve been at home, wrapped in a cashmere throw with a glass of wine, but no—Kansas had insisted on a workout.
“Come on, Olivia, you’re barely trying,” she said, hands on her hips, looking far too smug for someone who’d already put me through hell.
“I’m trying,” I panted, glaring at the punching bag as if it were going to attack me. “I just happen to think I’d be more effective fighting my problems with sarcasm.”
Kansas smirked. “Yeah? How’s that working with Brett?”
I groaned. “Low blow.”
She tossed me a towel. “Speaking of low blows, what’s up with you? You’ve been off lately.”
I hesitated. The last thing I wanted was another person to analyze my life as if it were a particularly complicated floor plan. But Kansas wasn’t just anyone—she was blunt, sharp as hell, and had no patience for nonsense. And she was my friend.
“It’s Brett’s daughter, Chloe,” I admitted. “She’s twelve going on demon.”
Kansas whistled. “Oof. That kid’s got bite.”
I dropped onto a bench. “And Brett just tells me to ‘give it time,’ like I’m assembling Ikea furniture without instructions.”
Kansas sat beside me. “You ever think about it from her side?”
I gave her a flat look. “I was too busy dodging her daggers.”
“Olivia, the girl lost her mom. Her dad is her entire world. And now, here you are—gorgeous, successful, and probably terrifying—stepping into her orbit. That’s a lot.”
I frowned. “I’m not terrifying.”
Kansas arched a brow. “Your design presentations alone could send a grown man into therapy.”
I huffed but didn’t argue.
Kansas leaned forward. “Look, Chloe’s not a monster. She’s scared. She lost one parent, and now she thinks she’s about to lose the other. Her acting out? It’s not about you. It’s about her trying to hold on to what’s left.”
Damn. That landed. I stared at the floor, chewing on my lip. Had I been so caught up in my frustration that I’d missed the fear underneath Chloe’s behavior?
Kansas nudged my knee. “You’re good at seeing potential in spaces, right? Maybe try seeing it in her.”
I exhaled, rubbing my temples. “You’re so annoyingly wise.”
“It’s a burden,” she said solemnly, then grinned. “But seriously, you got this. Just... don’t design your way out of this one. She’s not a project; she’s a person.”
I laughed despite myself. “I’ll try. No promises.”
Kansas clapped my back, nearly sending me flying. “That’s the spirit. Now, hit the bag again. Pretend it’s a bad client.”
I stood, shaking out my shoulders. “I already was.”
Kansas barked out a laugh. “Atta girl.”
When I entered the inn’s warmly lit lobby, nostalgia hit me like a wrecking ball. The scent of cedar and cinnamon still clung to the air, unchanged since the night Brett and I were there, tangled between sheets and poor decisions.
And now I was meeting him here like some kind of masochist.
I spotted him instantly—leaning against the fireplace, looking obnoxiously good in a dark coat and scarf, his jawline dusted with the kind of stubble that begged to be touched. His gray-blue eyes found mine, amusement flickering as if he knew exactly where my mind had gone.
“Liv,” Brett said, pushing off the mantel. “You came.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” I shrugged, adjusting my gloves like I wasn’t internally screaming.
“Wasn’t sure you’d show.” His smirk deepened. “Figured I’d have to chase you down.”
“I’d pay to see that,” I said dryly, ignoring how my stomach twisted. Focus. Breathe. Do not fall for his charm.
He gestured toward a set of leather chairs by the window. “Sit with me?”
I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want to—but because Sindy and Kansas’s voices were in my head, reminding me not to bite his head off immediately. Give it a chance, Olivia. Hear him out.
Fine.
I sat, smoothing my coat. He did the same, leaning in, his presence annoyingly warm.
“You look good,” Brett said, voice low.
I arched a brow. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Be you.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m just saying, Chicago winters suit you. You’ve got that frost queen thing going—very regal.”
I crossed my legs. “Is this where you flatter me into forgetting I want to strangle you?”
His grin widened. “It was worth a shot.”
I exhaled, staring at the flames crackling in the hearth. “Why are we here, Brett?”
He sobered slightly. “Because we used to be us once. And I don’t want every interaction to be a battle.”
A muscle in my jaw tightened. “Chloe is struggling with me. That’s not changing overnight.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But she’s been through a lot, Liv. And you showing up in my life is a big adjustment for her.”
Guilt settled deep in my ribs. I wanted Chloe to like me, but she saw me as a threat who could take her father away.
I swallowed. “So what do we do?”
Brett studied me for a beat. “Come ice skating with me.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
His lips twitched. “You heard me. It’s been years, but I bet I can still wipe the ice with you.”
“You’re delusional,” I shot back.
“Maybe,” he conceded. “But humor me?”
I hesitated—then sighed. “Fine.”
One hour. What was the worst that could happen?
I should’ve known Brett would be insufferable on the ice.
“You’re stiff,” he teased, skating backward effortlessly.
“I’m not stiff.”
“You’re like a baby deer.”
I scowled. “I will take you down.”
He laughed—a deep, rich sound that curled around me like a memory. “I’d like to see you try.”
Challenge accepted.
I pushed forward, trying to match his speed—bad idea. The moment my blade caught the ice wrong, I lurched forward—right into him.
He caught me quickly, strong hands gripping my waist, pulling me flush against him.
“Still so graceful,” he chuckled.
I could feel the heat of his breath against my cheek, the way his fingers curled slightly as if reluctant to let me go. My pulse did something downright embarrassing.
“Shut up,” I mumbled, trying—and failing—to step back.
His gaze flickered to my lips, and I knew. He was thinking about it.
But instead of kissing me, he said, “Be patient with Chloe, Liv. She’s scared. I know it’s unfair, but… just give her time.”
My throat tightened. “Okay.”
Brett’s expression softened. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
And just like that, the air between us shifted.
We skated together, laughing like we used to, slipping into something comfortable and real. By the time we left the rink, my chest was light in a way it hadn’t been in weeks.
“You still drink hot chocolate like it’s a religion?” Brett asked, handing me a cup from the stand.
I held it close, inhaling the rich scent. “Obviously.”
He smirked. “You always got whipped cream on your nose.”
“I do not?—”
“Uh-huh.”
I shot him a look but took a sip anyway. He watched me with an expression I couldn’t quite place—something warm, something almost… reverent.
I swallowed. “What’s next?”
“This,” he said, pulling me closer and leaning down.
“Here?”
“Here.”
His lips brushed mine, and I wavered before I gave in completely.
He pulled back. “You need to stop running from me and trust that I’m not going anywhere. I’m all in, Olivia. One hundred percent.”
My heart thumped wildly in my chest, and I wasn’t sure if it was the exercise from skating, the sugar from the hot chocolate, or simply my heart trying to jump out of my chest. I knew what it was. “I’m—I, I want to be with you,” I bit out.
He smiled lazily. “I know you do. I do too.”
“What do we do about Chloe? I don’t want to mess up what the two of you have.”
Brett exhaled. “Another meeting with her. I think a different setting would be better. No pressure. Let me handle it?”
I hesitated—then nodded. “Okay.”
Something in his shoulders eased. “Thanks, Liv.”
I smiled, the heat of the cocoa spreading through me. Maybe this wouldn’t be impossible after all.
And then—just as I was settling into that thought—Brett stepped closer, and I wanted him to kiss me again.
His fingers brushed my jaw, tilting my face up. “You’re overthinking,” he sighed.
Before I could fire back, his mouth crashed onto mine.
Heat. Pure, mind-numbing heat.
I gasped against his lips, but he didn’t hesitate, deepening the kiss with a raw, almost desperate intensity. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me into him like he needed me closer.
I clutched his coat, drowning in the taste of cocoa and something entirely Brett.
And just as quickly as he kissed me, he pulled away, leaving me breathless.
“Night, Liv.”
Then—just like him—he walked off, disappearing into the Chicago night, leaving me standing there, hot chocolate in one hand, heart racing in the other.
I exhaled shakily.
He was so cruel.
I tugged my coat tighter around me as Sindy and I shuffled into the packed movie theater, the smell of buttered popcorn thick in the air.
“Remind me again why we picked an action movie instead of something with an actual plot?” I teased, nudging her with my elbow.
“Because I need eye candy, and you need a distraction.” Sindy waggled her eyebrows. “And since you refuse to date, I provide visual alternatives.”
I rolled my eyes. “I do not refuse to date. I?—”
I stopped mid-sentence, colliding into a solid, warm chest. My breath caught in my throat as I glanced up—Brett. And right next to him, Chloe, her glare sharp enough to cut glass.
“Oh,” I breathed, my stomach dropping.
“Olivia,” Brett said, surprised but amused. His gray-blue eyes flickered to Sindy. “Hey, Sindy.”
Chloe crossed her arms. “Are we seriously going to have to sit near you?”
Wow. Okay then.
Sindy gave me a pointed look before turning to Chloe with a saccharine smile. “That depends—are you going to throw popcorn at us or just death stares?”
Chloe huffed, looking to Brett for support, but he was too busy suppressing a grin. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s find our seats.”
Sindy and I trailed behind them, and I groaned when I realized our seats were directly behind them. Perfect. Just what I needed was a front-row seat of Brett, who was the father of the year.
As the previews rolled, I tried to focus, but my attention kept drifting to how Brett leaned in close when Chloe whispered something, the soft way he ruffled her hair despite her exaggerated groan.
He was patient and attentive. The opposite of the reckless, cocky guy I’d known in college.
It was a side to him that I had never seen, at least not in this capacity.
It jarred me. The sight made something in my chest tighten, though Chloe’s continued dagger-like glares reminded me that I wasn’t part of whatever Brett was now.
Sindy leaned over, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re staring.”
“I am not.”
She popped a kernel into her mouth. “You totally are. Also, I bet ten bucks you’ve only processed about twenty percent of this movie.”
She wasn’t wrong.
By the time the credits rolled, I was more frazzled than entertained. As we filed out, Sindy clapped her hands. “Who’s in the mood for dessert?”
Brett barely hesitated. “Sounds good.”
Chloe shot him a look of utter betrayal. “What? Why?”
“Because I like dessert, and you love tiramisu.” He raised a brow.
“Fine.”
We ended up at a cozy little café with warm lighting and oversized mugs. I made a beeline for a seat, but of course, fate—or Sindy—stuck me right next to Brett.
Chloe sat across from me, her nose buried in her phone. Not a glance or one word. Just fingers flying over the screen, her expression deadpan.
Sindy kicked me under the table, her eyes full of mischief as she took a slow sip of her cappuccino. “So, Brett, tell me—how’s business?”
“Thriving,” he said easily. “We just closed a deal on a new development in River North.”
I hummed. “Still breaking ground and breaking hearts?”
His lips curled. “Not as much as I used to. Some people tend to linger.”
I knew the dig was meant for me, and I refused to bite. Instead, I zeroed in on Chloe. “So, Chloe, how’s school?”
She didn’t look up. “Fine.”
Sindy cleared her throat. “Got any fun hobbies?”
No response—just more scrolling.
When Chloe excused herself to use the restroom, my patience snapped. “Brett, are you seriously going to let her ignore us like this?”
His brows lifted. “She’s just on her phone.”
“Exactly.” I waved a hand at the restroom. “She’s sitting at a table with us. Maybe she could, I don’t know, engage?”
Brett exhaled, leaning back. “Olivia, she’s twelve.”
“And?” I shot back. “Twelve isn’t an excuse for bad manners.”
His expression darkened. “I’m not going to police her every second.”
“Well, maybe you should because she’s not exactly making an effort to be polite.”
Brett ran a hand down his face but said nothing. I shook my head, pushing back from the table. “You let her get away with too much.”
He exhaled, his voice low. “She’s a kid, Olivia. And she’s been through enough without me becoming a drill sergeant.”
I scoffed. “There’s a difference between discipline and being a pushover.”
His jaw tightened. “Noted.”
The rest of the night was a blur of strained conversation and forced small talk. When Sindy and I finally left, she hooked her arm through mine. “So, that was fun.”
I groaned. “I don’t know how he expects Chloe to respect anyone when he refuses to set boundaries.”
Sindy was quiet for a beat before saying, “Maybe he just doesn’t know how.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Brett’s figuring it out on his own. Maybe he needs help.”
“Help?” I scoffed. “Like from me?”
She smirked. “You seem to have a lot of opinions. Maybe you should put them to use.”
I rolled my eyes but said nothing. The idea stuck with me all the way home.
When I walked into my condo, Mystic hopped onto my lap, her purr vibrating against my stomach. I scratched behind her ears, exhaling slowly.
My phone buzzed. Brett.
I stared at his name, my thumb hovering over the screen. Then I sighed, flipped my phone over, and shut it off. I wasn’t ready for whatever conversation he wanted to have.
Instead, I whispered to Mystic, “You get me, don’t you?”
She meowed in response; that was all I needed for now.