4. Olivia
FOUR
olivia
M y body flamed as I led the way to the door.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and my hands shook as I raised it to the mint green-colored door to the stone and brick two story home that my parents lived in. The home I grew up in. I let out a breath as I knocked three times.
You should’ve sent a text, stupid.
Standing on my old front porch and knocking felt so uncomfortable, I did live here for years, after all. Luke shifted behind me, and his presence alone eased the niggling worry that seemed to shock my body in waves. He grounded me and brought me back to the present every single time I panicked.
I love him.
God, stop thinking that!
My tedious thoughts almost started an inner monologue argument when the door swung open in front of me. A frenzy of cries and limbs greeted me. All reaching for me, pulling me in for hugs, kissing my cheek and forehead. It was all so overwhelming as the familiar smell of snickerdoodles filled my nostrils as if my mom was the embodiment of the homely scent .
“I’ve missed you so much, little girl. Where have you been!” my mom exclaimed, “And what have you been hiding?” Her dark brown eyes widened as she saw Luke behind me, ensuring only I heard that last comment.
Heat already pumped through my veins, remembering Luke taking me in that animalistic fashion on the plane.
Olivia, that is not what you should be thinking while hugging your mother, for Christ’s sake.
“We are so happy to have you home,” my dad said from the other side of me. Both of them grinned. The moment felt surreal. The air simmered with love.
“Guys, I want you to meet Luke,” I said, finally remembering how to form words.
I watched their eyes trail up and up, taking Luke in at over six feet tall. He towered above all of us. He smiled down at both of them, the kind that reached his ocean blue eyes that I wanted to dive into and never be recovered.
“Thank you,” his southern accent was accenting as the sound kissed my ears, “for having me.”
We stepped inside the foyer, where he set our luggage down.
I took a moment to truly remember the smells and sights of my childhood home. Tears pricked my vision as memories crashed into me.
The house was the same as I remembered. Little bookshelf with shoe cubbies in the foyer since there was no mud room. A study to the left as you walked in, where my dad set up his work-from-home office, the powder room just after that, leading into the private living space in the back of the house with the open concept kitchen and great room.
From there, I could easily imagine the hidden staircase painted in that same burnt orange color my mother adored, leading up to the three oversized bedrooms and the cozy library nook at the top of the stairs.
Our house overflowed with laughter and happiness over the years. I couldn’t believe I allowed Matt to keep me from them, from here, for so long.
I turned to my parents, who chatted with Luke, small talk, work, and the weather. Sometimes, I struggled to remember that while I lived my life and became a real adult, they also got older.
My mom’s chocolate skin was flawless, as usual. She wore her complexion proud, fresh, and dressed plainly. She was modest and comfortable wearing leggings and an oversized sweater on her petite five-foot frame.
My mother had pulled her shoulder-length hair into a low ponytail that barely qualified as one. It was so small and cute, just like her. She always looked great. I sent a silent prayer, hoping I’d age just as flawlessly as the most amazing woman I'd ever known did.
My dad’s chocolate colored eyes watched me intently as he conversed with Luke. His pale skin was slightly pink from smiling so hard.
He was your typical dad. The one who wore a baseball hat to cover the thinning hair, but he still looked great regardless in a t-shirt with a faded sports team logo on it and dad jeans. Topped off with the white shoes that have seen many lawns and grocery store parking lots. The kind you want to replace for them but never can because they were perfectly broken in .
Sure they are .
I rolled my eyes, loving the scene in front of me.
Family.
Just like the people, the moment was perfect. Some things never changed. Some things didn’t need to. Some things were perfect the way they always had been.
“We’re so happy you guys made it over here, safe and sound,” my mom said. “I know you’re both probably tired from the trip, but I made cookies!”
She bent down and pulled out a tray of snickerdoodles from the oven. The aroma hit me, and my stomach rumbled.
“I’m definitely taking some of these back for Vera,” I said, snagging one off the tray, still burning hot but not caring one bit. I ate the cookie open-mouthed, hoping to alleviate the burn of the dough cascading across my tongue as my mom spoke up.
“Why don’t I show you both the upstairs and you two can figure out the sleeping situation.” Mom chuckled, winking at us. I dropped my cookie on the floor and choked on the part I failed to swallow, setting fire to my saliva.
She did not just say that.
Oh. My. God.
I peeked at Luke, wondering if he caught that. As usual, he brandished a calm expression that gave away nothing. He looked down at my mom and smiled.
“That would be great, thanks.”
Damn him for always being so level headed.
I wiped my sugary hands off on my leggings, ignoring the sticky feeling the cookies left.
“You two go get some rest before dinner,” Dad said, taking my shoulders and aiming me toward where Luke followed my mom up the stairs with our bags. “I’ll clean this up.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek, followed by another hug that felt tight enough to break my ribs.
“Sorry about the cookie. Leave it to me to make that how I greet you guys after all this time,” I said as a nervous giggle bubbled to the surface, escaping my lips .
“We’re so glad to have you back,” he said softly. His eyes studied me as if I was still a tiny little girl, learning to walk for the first time.
“Me too,” I said, yawning, exhaustion rolling over me in waves.
Couldn’t hurt to get a little more sleep in.
My bones still felt languid, eager to settle into a bed rather than the hardness of the airplane seats. I followed the call of a nap and disappeared upstairs.