Chapter Nine
She’s beautiful.
I watch them from the corner of my eye in my spot at a small dinette in the jet.
Rex is with a gorgeous woman—tall, statuesque, generous curves in all the right places, dark-chocolate-colored hair in a blunt bob only women with her bone structure can pull off.
He snakes his arm around her waist, all the while balancing an air of intimacy with respectful distance at the same time.
They’re laughing. He doles out one of those infamous panty-melting grins as he whispers something in her ear. A faint flush creeps up her face, which seems to be the desired response, based on the satisfied glint in his eyes.
My stomach twists—damn, I’ve heard of seasick, not air sick. Is it because I forgot to grab dinner before coming aboard?
The woman giggles, and Rex kisses her cheek. I narrow my eyes and imagine him as a voodoo doll.
Womanizer. A pinprick. Someone who probably hasn’t worked hard for a day in his life. Another pinprick. Has had everything handed to him. Asshole. Hedonist. Makes selfish decisions without caring how they impact others. I chuck all my pins at the doll.
Your patient.
Blowing out a breath, I attempt to rationalize away my ridiculous thoughts.
I shouldn’t think this way. This is mean and I’m a goddamn professional.
Our personalities just don’t jibe with each other, that’s all.
It’s not the first time I have to work with someone I don’t like.
I’m doing this for the greater good—helping my friends and securing a much-needed donation for ADAS.
Rex Anderson is a troubled man, and even if the man is resistant to medication, as Lana told me before the trip, I can help him.
I don’t miss the signs.
My stomach grumbles now. I glance at my cell. Eight p.m. I should’ve planned better.
I pull out one of Mom’s cookies from my purse and munch on it. Ugh. Almond-flavored cardboard. I quickly swallow the whole thing.
Mom’s call from last night reverberates in my ears. “Eat on time, Olivia,” followed by her disappointing sigh when she said, “You aren’t coming back, are you?” She tried enticing me with mentions of braised pork belly and a new sushi restaurant she found, activities Mia would’ve enjoyed.
She asked me if I received her tin of almond cookies, and I told her I even brought it with me so I could finish them before they went bad. Then she reminisced about how I loved her cookies when I was little, and I huffed out a laugh and changed the subject. No need to hurt her feelings.
“Why would you go on a cruise, Olivia? You have patients at home. They’d want to see you in person. This isn’t like you,” she said.
It’s something Mia would do.
While she didn’t mention her by name, my sister’s presence permeated our conversation and I couldn’t help but be hurt again.
Even in death, she shines brighter than me. The world is dimmer without her spark, her effervescence—the brave, exciting Lin twin.
But you can shine too, Olivia. What’s holding you back?
Not everything has to explode like fireworks. Stars glow at night and their brightness is beautiful too.
Instead of ruminating on the hurt, I focus on Mom’s parting words, “Have you eaten yet?”
Because that’s how she tells me she loves me.
It’s hard not to miss the person who’s gone forever, but it doesn’t mean she loves me any less.
Low murmuring reaches my ears and I look up again, finding Rex saying something to Bree before she disappears inside one of the two bedrooms in the back.
My gut knots again.
Definitely asking an attendant for some real food later.
Turning away, I admire the most luxurious airplane I’ve ever been on. Buttery soft tan leather, dark woods and sleek chrome lining the walls, deep navy and amber carpet which looks imported from somewhere.
It’s surreal how I’m even here. My family is staunchly from the middle class, my parents owning a Chinese fusion restaurant in the San Gabriel Valley, a stone’s throw away from downtown LA. I had student loans up to my eyeballs by the time I graduated from Harvard for undergrad and medical school.
Before everything happened with Mia, I thought I’d move back home after graduation, work at a research hospital for a handful of years before opening a small private practice.
Our parents would be proud of us. I’d make a comfortable living and settle down with a regular guy who didn’t live at home, knew how to cook and run a dishwasher, and we’d have two point five kids and live happily ever after.
But none of that happened.
Everything changed after my sister died.
And now I’m here, unable to return to LA, single, using work as a shield from anything risky or fun because I’m the only Lin twin earth side.
I have to be perfect. I have to make the right choices. I’m the only one my parents have left. I’m spared whatever affliction Mia had, so I need to spend the rest of my life saving people like her.
I have to live for her because she isn’t here anymore.
And deep down, perhaps I’m trying to heal the brokenhearted because it’s too late for me.
“Olivia, have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?”
I startle, so deep in my thoughts I didn’t see him walking over.
Rex sprawls into the seat across from me, his fingers idly toying with a button on his shirt collar. Swallowing, I try not to notice how he’s the definition of a virile, hot man.
How his dark and messy hair begs me to run my fingers through it. How his strong nose and the enticing divot on his top lip look like they came out of an art textbook depicting ideal male beauty.
And those eyes…the pools of quicksilver.
He winks.
I snap out of it. What on earth has gotten into me?
I frown. “Come again?”
“I know most guys would say they like blue eyes, or green,” he crosses one ankle over his knee, the perfect posture of nonchalance, “but I like brown. And yours aren’t really brown, right?”
He smiles, the whites of his teeth blinding, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No. Brown’s not the right word. Yours are the color of rich, smooth whiskey—one taste and I’ll be bewitched for life.”
My heart skips against my wishes.
Bewitched.
No one has ever used that word to describe the no-nonsense, play-it-safe Olivia Lin. It calls to the flickering energy nestled deep inside me, the incessant whisper, “Don’t you want to shine now? Aren’t you tired of living in the shadows?”
But as I examine his brittle smile, clock the dullness in his eyes, my chest caves a little.
Lip service. His compliment isn’t real.
And I know what game he’s playing at.
I school my face into one of indifference and pull out a notebook and a pen from my tote. Then I set it neatly on the desk—notebook to the left, pen to the right.
“Thank you. And whatever you’re doing, save it. It won’t work on me. And plus, your friend,” I eye the closed bedroom door where Bree was, “probably wouldn’t appreciate her man flirting with another woman.”
The sleazy pig.
Rex freezes, clearly not used to women not responding to his charm. Take that, sucker. Don’t give out compliments you don’t mean. I inwardly smile. It’s petty and unprofessional, but I’m only human.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Only speaking the truth. And I’m not her man.”
I frown. He isn’t? They seem awfully chummy.
He shrugs but doesn’t offer more. Then he reaches over and nudges my notebook to one side and flicks my pen to the other.
Like he knows it’ll drive me nuts.
He cocks his brow.
I narrow my eyes.
Not taking the bait, asshole.
“Ready to begin our first session?” I grab the pen and uncap it. There’s no one else in the dinette, so this place is as good as any.
Silence falls between us, and I wait.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
The air thickens.
A muscle jumps in his jaw.
He’s going to snap.
“Let’s cut the fucking crap.”
And there it is.