Chapter 28
“Flowers? For me?”
Olan answers the door, and I’m grateful for even the smallest moment alone with him.
“No, not for you, for Isabella.”
He glances back into the house, steps out onto the landing, shuts the door, and his lips smash on mine. Disoriented, I step back, and he catches me with his right arm. It’s been five full days since we’ve been alone, and his pent-up energy flows into me. His tongue traces my bottom lip, and I swear I feel dizzy from his smell. My heart soars as our mouths connect, and for a fleeting second, I wonder if the two of us can spend the rest of the night out here.
“Damn, I missed your lips,” he growls, pulling away just enough to speak and then jutting back in to bite my upper lip.
“We should go inside,” I mumble as he nibbles away.
“We should.”
Out with her boyfriend – and either trying not to intrude or attempting to avoid any drama – Cindy will not be joining us. Honestly, having her here as a buffer would have been nice, but I understand. Given the opportunity, I would flee too. Olan’s ordered Thai food, and it’s all laid out on the island in the kitchen. In his typical fashion, there’s enough food here to feed twice the number of people eating. The salty smells of soy sauce, ginger, and garlic fill the air, and my stomach lurches with a mix of hunger and unease. My fingers play with the plastic wrap around the flowers I’m holding, and I wonder where Isabella and Illona are. I’m not trying to rush the evening, but I also would like to shove this train out of the station.
“Sit.” Olan pats a stool. “They’ll be down in a minute. What can I get you to drink?”
I rub the back of my neck and lean on the island. I’m sure Isabella not coming down when she heard the bell means nothing about how she feels about me being here. Right?
“Water’s great. Wait, do you have any ginger ale? Maybe the bubbles will help the flipping in my stomach.”
“Marv, I’m here. Everything’s going to be wonderful. I promise,” he says, pouring my drink into a glass as Illona’s voice travels down the stairs toward us.
“Cynthia said we can do a sleepover if all our parents say okay, so I need to work on Daddy, and I’m going to ask him tonight because he loves my hair this way, so I think he’ll say yes…”
I move both hands to the island, bracing myself for impact as they join us.
“Marvin!” Illona runs over and wraps her arms around my waist, and my breath becomes steadier, so I move my hands from the island to return her embrace.
“Hey there, oh my gosh, look at your hair. It’s beautiful.”
Two thick braids hug either side of her head down to the base of her neck, where the hair spills out into the gorgeous curls I’m used to. It’s truly a work of art.
“Mommy did it after school.”
Of course she did. “Well, it’s amazing,” I say, turning to Isabella. “Truly, I’ve never seen anything like this.” I run my hand over the left braid as Illona unclasps from me.
“I’ve had years of practice,” Isabella says, slipping a hand into her pocket. Unlike me, she’s still wearing the same outfit I met her in a few hours ago.
“Well, it shows,” I say and give a little laugh even though there’s nothing funny about what she said, what I said, or the situation.
“Flowers. I brought you some. Flowers. Um, here,” I say, thrusting the flowers toward her.
“Marvin, that was sweet of you. They’re beautiful.” There’s a kindness in her eyes I wasn’t expecting.
Olan gestures at the kitchen island. “Why don’t we get some food and eat.”
“I’m starving!” Illona says, still right next to me.
“Me too,” I add.
Olan supplies Isabella with a vase and she arranges the flowers. We spend the next few minutes in relative silence, with everyone piling their plates from the containers spread out on the island. Curries, noodle dishes, and vegetables create a vibrant array of colors and textures, and I do my best to load my plate up while Isabella helps Illona with hers.
“Excuse me.” Olan comes behind me for a spring roll, weaving his arm around me a little too close for comfort given the current circumstances. I have to remind myself “she knows,” to avoid a spiral into panic.
“Sorry,” I blurt as I shift away from him.
Finally, we sit at the table and begin eating. Illona attempts to use chopsticks but succumbs to defeat and grabs her fork.
“So, I know you two met at school, but how did things, well, evolve?” Isabella asks.
Her tone feels light and curious, and Olan doesn’t jump in, so I take a quick breath through my nose to reply.
“I give my cell phone out to families for questions, issues, emergencies, that type of thing, and well, I guess Olan had a lot of questions.”
“Yup, that adds up. Do you know, when we met in high school, Olan used to sit by himself at lunch? This handsome guy, with all the girls whispering about him, and he was completely clueless. Eventually, I went up to him and introduced myself. Here I am, doing my best to flirt, and all he wanted to do was chat about calculus and engines. For the longest time, I was convinced we would never exit the friend zone.”
“Mommy, what’s the friend zone?” Illona asks.
“It’s when two people are friends. But not more than friends. Having friends is lovely, right? But they don’t have stronger feelings like wanting to be together and maybe get married,” Isabella says.
“You mean like Daddy and Marvin?”
Out of the mouths of babes. My eyes go wide. Olan actually coughs up a bit of Pad Thai.
“No, sweetie, they are not stuck in the friend zone,” Isabella replies.
“Princess, remember we talked about this. I like Marvin.”
“He’s your friend,” Illona says.
“Yes, he’s my friend, but more than a friend.”
“Is that why you always want to kiss him?”
And now it’s my turn to cough up some Pad See Ew. Thankfully, Isabella jumps in.
“Yes, when you like someone more than a friend, sometimes you want to kiss them. And your dad, well, eventually, he got the hint with me, but I had to lead him there. He had no clue what to do.”
“Oh my gosh, are you serious?” I ask.
“Hey, hey, I’m sitting right here,” Olan says.
As it turns out, Isabella does not want to devour me alive. We end up chatting and teasing Olan quite a bit which makes the blood gather in his ears, but he seems to be enjoying the camaraderie at the table. Illona giggles, hearing stories about her parents in high school, and while my head tells me I should feel awkward about it, my heart loves learning more about his past.
Once we’re done, and the table’s cleared, it’s almost Illona’s bedtime. Since the evening has gone reasonably well so far, I don’t want to push my luck and I plan to leave once she’s upstairs.
“Daddy, can you tuck me in?” Illona pleads, and Olan has no way out.
Illona gives her mom a kiss and me a hug and skips upstairs.
“I’ll be back in five minutes,” Olan tells us. He gives me a reassuring smile, winks, and follows. For the first time, Isabella and I are alone.
We flank the island. I fiddle with the loops on my jeans, poking my fingers in and out. Isabella lets out a sizeable breath.
“Let’s go sit on the sofa,” she suggests.
We sit on opposite ends, me squishing myself up against the armrest to put as much space between us as possible. Isabella pulls her legs up underneath herself and grabs a reddish throw pillow that brings out the scarlet tones in her hair. She shoves a stray lock away from her eyes with a sharp movement. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see how Olan fell for her.
“Marvin, I want to thank you. You’ve made the best of a challenging situation for Illona. Moving in the middle of the school year, being away from her mother, well, she adores you, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
I’m not sure where to look. Eye contact would be the polite move, but my skin tingles with discomfort at her compliments.
“Um, thank you. She’s a complete pleasure to have in class. You and Olan have one phenomenal kid.”
“You’re sweet. She’s been easy. We’re lucky. And Olan, I can’t say I’ve seen him this smitten before. It’s nice.”
My feet shuffle on the floor, and I give a thin smile as she speaks. I’m trying to loosen up, but failing miserably and am beyond grateful the sweater I’m wearing hides the Noah’s-Ark-level flood happening in my armpits.
“We had a difficult time last year. I’m sure Olan’s told you. And I’m glad he’s back to working his program. Do you know much about AA?” Her head tilts.
“A little. My mother’s in recovery.”
“Oh, Olan didn’t tell me that.”
“Yeah, for about twelve years, so I’m pretty familiar with the program.”
“Wonderful, that will be helpful to him. After his relapse last year, we had some tough decisions to make. About the business, but also, well, us. When you’re getting sober or after a relapse, the program suggests you focus solely on yourself for the first year.”
“That makes sense.”
“I’m not sure if he told you, but Olan worked way too much. Selling the business was one component of focusing on himself. Part of that first year is no major life changes… like dating.”
Now somewhere in my head, I’ve heard this. Probably years ago from my mother, but it was one of many on a list of no-no’s your first year. And Olan had only had one drink, right? Was this vital? And his one-year anniversary since his relapse was coming up.
“But Marvin, the thing is, I see how happy you make Olan. Truly happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so much. You’re good for him. No, make that exceptional. He’s come so far since his drinking became a problem in college, and now, here, with you, it may not be how I thought things would turn out but seeing him this captivated pleases me.”
She lowers her head and presses her palms against her cheeks. Isabella’s honesty catches me off guard. I’m not sure why, but I was expecting her to lash out. Her support for the idea of Olan and me together is surprising. Sharing about Olan’s past seems to torment her, and I reach out and place my hand on her arm.
“I’m so sorry. That had to be difficult. I totally understand.”
“When he was drinking heavily, it was scary.”
“I bet.”
“He wasn’t the person I knew. There were some horrific moments in college. Junior year, his roommate found him unresponsive in his room. They had to take him to the hospital and pump his stomach. Once he started drinking solo, that’s when I knew he was in trouble. I was scared for his life.” Isabella stares at her hands. She returns her gaze to me, and there’s a dampness in the corners of her eyes.
Her words pinch at my chest. It’s hard for me to imagine Olan out of control. I know it was a long time ago, but my anxiety gurgles at the thought of him drinking, passed out, and the connections to childhood memories of my mother flash hot in my head. This, whatever we have, maybe it’s too soon for him. I couldn’t handle it if he relapsed, and I’d never forgive myself if it was my fault. Is handing my heart over to this man wise? Isabella looks at me with soft eyes, and I take a deep breath trying to center myself.
“I know you might find this hard to believe, but I actually want him to be happy. We may not be together, but I’ll always love Olan and want the best for him. He’s a wonderful father and his health means a lot to me. I’m grateful he found you. Clearly, Illona worships you, but more importantly, you seem to ground Olan. So, thank you.”
Suddenly, I feel like a dolt. I assumed she’d find some reason to detest me. Swoop in and cause chaos. Instead, she’s been kind and supportive. Color me dumbstruck.
“All set.” Olan rushes in. “I’m sorry, she wanted to read me a story. How are we doing?” He plops down between us, ever so slightly closer to me, and rests his hand on my knee.
“We’re fantastic,” Isabella says.
“I probably should get going. Long day and all.” My chest tightening, I force a yawn.
Isabella’s words replay in my mind. I never imagined hearing about Olan’s past, his drinking, would impact me in such a severe way. My skin feels tight, itchy, cramped, like it doesn’t fit me anymore. The urge to flee takes over, and I do my best to appear calm as I attempt to escape.
I stand, forcing my legs not to wobble. “But thank you so much for having me. Isabella, I’m so happy you could fly in, and we got to spend a little time together. Safe travels home.”
“Let me drive you.” Olan pushes himself up.
“No, it’s so lovely out. I want to walk.”
My body hums with anxiety, my heart thumping into a knot. I worry a panic attack isn’t far off, and the second that thought enters my mind, I feel my dinner creeping up. I can’t get away fast enough.