Chapter 8
JOHN
NOW
Why am I so nervous?
Clearly, this entire situation is playing out the way it’s meant to.
Destiny and free will are at play here in a brilliant, beautiful, choreographed dance.
The way that Monty literally told me to check up on Olivia.
And then two days later, George Merrick’s granddaughter—wearing a pink tutu—walked in on my Zoom call with him.
It’s undeniable. Things are falling into place.
I have done all the work I needed to do to become the best man for Olivia, and now the algorithms of the Universe have provided me with the exact means by which to find a solution to two problems: the Merrick problem, and the problem of getting Olivia and her brother to understand that she and I belong together.
I have figured out the simplest, most accelerated method to achieve this goal.
The shortest distance between two points—the state of not being with Olivia and the state of being in a relationship with her.
Step One has been accomplished—I crushed it.
Step Two is sharing information with Monty. Some information. Before I share the information with the rest of the world. Because that’s the right thing to do.
It’s just a phone call.
So why the fuck am I so nervous?
I worked out for a full hour before showering this afternoon to eliminate nervous energy. That was followed by a fifteen-minute guided meditation to calm down. Then I listened to “The Throne Room and End Title” from A New Hope to psych myself up. Three times.
Logically, I know for a fact that it is not possible for Nathan Montgomery to physically throat-punch me through my phone.
My rational mind also understands that he’s too busy to get on a plane and fly to the Bay Area to do it in person.
I am confident that the chances of him ending a friendship that has lasted over two decades because I’m taking his only sister out on a date are slim to none.
Richard is driving me. Not that I’d allow him to beat up my best friend if it came to that, but he is here to protect me.
So why do my pulse and blood-pressure readings indicate that I anticipate my balls are about to be separated from the rest of me?
I just need to relax and state my case calmly. Rationally. With science-based reasoning.
Three deep breaths, and I am initiating the call…
Hopefully, he’ll be busy and won’t answer.
“Hey, what’s up?”
Fuck me.
“Hey. Hi. How are you?” I say.
There’s a long pause on his end.
“Hello? Monty?”
“Have you been kidnapped?” he asks.
“What?”
“Why do you sound weird?”
“No. I mean. I don’t. I’m not,” I say. “Are you busy right now? You sound busy. I’ll call back later.”
“What is wrong with you? You don’t ask people if they’re busy, and I don’t answer the phone if I’m too busy to answer the phone.”
“Yep. Exactly. I want to tell you something.”
“Okay…” he says.
“I am going to take your sister out. On a date.”
“Olivia?”
“Do you have another sister I can date?”
“You’re taking Olivia out on a date? With you?”
“Correct.”
“Does she know this?” he asks.
“She does.”
“Are you a masochist?”
“I don’t think so. That is why I’m telling you before proceeding. It seemed like the ethical course of action.”
“Uh-huh. I meant because Olivia will eat you alive. But I like that you’re scared of me. I am altering the deal,” he says in his Darth Vader voice. “Pray I don’t alter it any further.”
“Okay, well. I’m not making a deal, and I’m not asking for permission. I’m on my way to pick her up right now. But I wanted to explain my reasoning.”
“Your reasoning?”
“Yes. As you can imagine, I’ve given this considerable thought,” I say.
“I do not want to know anything about your thoughts about my sister.”
“From a compatibility standpoint, I mean. Olivia and I share several key variables.”
“Variables,” he says. “Right.”
“We have a shared history. Strong work ethic. Objectively, we now share a similar level of physical attractiveness. Dedication to achieving goals. Mutual compassion for three significant people in our lives—you and your parents. The probability of long-term compatibility is statistically significant.”
Silence.
I glance up and see Richard in the rearview mirror. He appears to be cringing.
But I continue. Fearlessly. “And it must be said that I find her, from a biological standpoint, attractive in a way that is so undeniable that—”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
“I’ll have you know that I avoided her as much as possible and I avoided the issue for years, but if you think about it, the chemistry between us has always been clear.”
“I will not think about it, and you will never, ever discuss my sister from a biological perspective again,” he says emphatically.
“Right. No more statistics. No biology. No chemistry… Olivia is…an event horizon.”
I can hear the scrape of my friend’s palm against the stubble of his cheeks. The quiet, agonized groan.
But like this life choice I’m trying to justify to him, I must see this metaphor through to a satisfying conclusion. “I’ve been orbiting these feelings for over five years. Between five and ten, let’s say.”
Monty sounds like he’s in pain now.
“I’ve tried to stay at a safe distance. But you told me to check on her. I did. Yesterday. And being around her again after all these years—I crossed the event horizon. There’s no going back. I’m being sucked in by her immense gravitational pull.”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” he says. “This is a black hole metaphor, and if you use the word hole while informing me that you’re taking my sister out on a date, I will never speak to you again.”
“Right… Right. I see what you mean. I’m done talking. What are your thoughts on the matter?”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “The jizz rag.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“At my parents’ house. Thanksgiving?” he says. “You were jerking it to my sister, weren’t you?”
After a beat, I say, “I don’t think I should answer that.”
“That’s exactly right—you shouldn’t.” I can hear him scraping his face with the palm of his hand again. And then he sighs. “Look, I know what a big deal this must be for you and how hard it was for you to bring this up, so—”
“Probably shouldn’t use the words ‘big’ and ‘hard’ when you’re talking about me and your sister either,” I offer.
After a pause, Monty laughs. Hard. I wasn’t making a joke, but it’s a relief to hear him not threatening me.
“Oh my God. Okay. Yes. You aren’t asking for my permission, but you have my blessing.
As long as you don’t fuck with her or fuck things up.
If she actually agreed to go out with you and you’re not, like, forcing her to go out with you against her will. ”
“I’m definitely not forcing her.”
This is, essentially, the truth. It’s a truth wrapped in a ruse inside a grand romantic plan.
“Then I’d rather she date you than a pretentious artsy-fartsy asshole in a fedora,” Monty says.
“You know about that guy?”
“She told my mom and me about him back when she was in Pittsburgh. So gross.”
“So gross,” I agree.
“Okay, well. Talk later.”
“Talk later.”
I end the call.
And that’s how it’s done.
I check my watch to confirm that my heart rate and blood pressure have returned to a normal range.
Step Two is now complete.
Step Three is to begin to reveal to Olivia just how good I’m capable of making her feel—without losing my head.
Because I need to close this deal with Merrick, or everything else falls apart.
But I won’t lose my head. I didn’t become a billionaire by getting sidetracked by feelings.
And the great thing about Olivia is that she’s so focused on her career too.