Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
OLIVIA
Olivia drummed her fingers on the container of rolls Luca handed her as he got Annabelle out of her booster seat.
“Now remember,” Luca said as Annabelle hopped down, “we need our best manners today.”
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Olivia said, holding out her hand for AB. “I once saw my mom covered head to toe in barbecue sauce after eating really good ribs.”
“I got my fancy dress on, so I can’t have those probably,” AB said, hop-skipping up the cobblestone walk of Olivia’s childhood home.
They’d finally rescheduled the dinner they were all supposed to have before she’d gotten sick.
Her heart had melted when she’d walked over to Luca’s house to ride together and saw them in their “fancy meal” clothes, as AB had called them.
Luca wore a charcoal-gray button-up shirt with slacks, and Annabelle had on a cute plaid dress.
Luca put his hand on the small of Olivia’s back briefly. “Nervous?”
She stopped drumming her nails against the Tupperware. “No, that would be silly. I grew up here, and it’s my family, and they already love you, and it’s fine that you are the first, uh, people I’ve brought home for dinner in a really long time.”
“Great,” he said quietly, his hand now resting on the small of her back. “So, clearly not nervous.”
She sighed and squeezed AB’s hand.
Annabelle knocked hard on the door, and Wells opened it with a surprised sparkle in his eye. “Well, hello!” he said, sweeping his arm dramatically. “Our most honored guests have arrived, including the two extra special Princesses of Balletland. Or was it Ballettopia?”
Annabelle giggled and looked up at Olivia, who rolled her eyes. “He never remembers the important stuff. Topia.” Olivia wrapped her arms around her pine tree of a brother.
“Hey, Freckles,” he said, lifting her up in a squeezing hug. He’d gotten his height from their father, whereas she was a carbon copy of their mother.
Wells bent down to AB. “There are some crayons and coloring pages for you.” He pointed to a coffee table in the living room. Annabelle ran in.
Wells narrowed his eyes. “Luca,” Wells said, throwing a hand out, which Luca grasped. “Nice to meet you, officially.”
Wells could be a charming guy when he needed to be, and downright frightening when he had to be. That second part seeped in as his Penn-Law-School-Alumni eyes hardened at Luca.
Wells stepped onto the porch and let the door close behind him, still shaking Luca’s hand. He towered over Luca’s six-foot-something frame. “So! You’re fucking my sister. Pretty interesting given you are also technically her employer.”
“Wellesley Maroo,” Olivia gasped and smacked his arm.
Luca just smiled and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”
Olivia yanked her brother’s shirt until he was at her eye level. “You will behave yourself, or”—she gave him an eyebrow raise—“I will make your life a living hell for the next two hours.”
Wells straightened up and yanked his hand back from Luca, shaking it a little to get the blood flowing back into it. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“I will let you know when I need looking out for,” she said, patting his cheek and smacking it a little too hard.
“Come in,” Wells said, smiling widely now as he opened the door. “Pop’s still working on the food. Mom made cocktails.”
Luca helped Olivia out of her coat.
“Sorry for my idiot brother,” she whispered as Wells moved to the kitchen.
Luca smiled and calmly shrugged. As if her enormous brother accosting him before dinner was no big deal. “It’s okay; he doesn’t know me. I’m glad somebody’s looking out for you.”
Olivia’s mouth dropped open at his reaction. Unbothered with a capital U was how he looked right now. Fascinating.
“And,” Luca whispered in her ear as he walked by, low and close, “he’s not wrong. I am fucking you.”
A thrum of pleasure squeezed at all of her favorite parts at the reminder.
“Ah, you’re here!” her mother called.
She hugged her mom, still never having gotten over the thrill of seeing her every few days. In the kitchen, she gave Pop a kiss on the cheek as he sautéed vegetables on the stove. “There’s my girl,” he said, leaning into her hug.
“It smells good,” she said, peeking at the stove.
“Uh-ah!” He shooed her away. “It’s almost finished.”
“I made cocktails.” Her mother brought a tray over. “Including a special drink for AB, my own concoction,” she said as they wandered into the living room.
“I get one too?” Annabelle said, looking up from her coloring.
“I call it the ballerina special,” Olivia’s mother said, pulling out a cute, clear cup with a lid and swirly straw. “Sprite with a dollop of cranberry juice, making it sparkly and pink, just like you were at the festival last week.”
“That’s very nice. Thank you, Martha,” Luca said. “I brought the rolls I told you about on the phone.”
It sort of thrilled Olivia that he just… called? her mother. Like it was totally normal for her not-boyfriend to call up her mom to talk about their family dinner plans that week.
“Your professional ballerina specials,” her mom said, handing the tray to Wells, Olivia, and Luca. “Tonic, cranberry juice, and a whole lot of vodka.”
Olivia sipped. “Shit, is it ninety percent vodka?”
“Language,” Wells said, nodding at Annabelle.
AB shrugged while she colored. “Oh, I can say that word once a week.”
Wells choked on his drink as he laughed.
“So, my dear.” Her mother sat across from Olivia in the comfortable, warm living room. “How are things going now that the festival is off your plate?”
“Well…” Olivia cozied into the couch and found herself leaning against Luca’s leg.
“I finished my audition clips, finally. Dayton had a rare spot open up before January, so I sent in my audition.” Polite claps filled the room as she cheersed them.
“So here’s hoping that somebody wants these old bones that have excellent technique. ”
“Luca,” Wells said in a friendly voice that Olivia didn’t trust one bit. “I saw your business sponsored part of the festival. Things must be going well.”
Luca smiled confidently. “They are. We’re excited to be in Fairwick Falls now.”
Wells leaned forward, his face full of concern. “Is there a need for a body shop in a town of a thousand people?”
Olivia glared at him.
Luca smiled to himself. “I’m lucky that many people have referred us for custom work around the area.”
Wells shrugged. “Seems like a fussy business if the economy went south.”
God, she hated this bullshit male posturing.
Luca shrugged. “Unfortunately, there are always fenders that need unbending.”
“Wells!” Olivia interrupted him before he could get out another word, not liking how he was interrogating Luca. She put on a mock-confused voice. “Why are you here? Gosh, I’ve been seeing you around a lot lately.”
Her mother looked attentively at Wells as she sipped her cocktail. “That’s true, dear. You have been around a lot. Five hours is a long drive just for Pop’s pancakes.”
“Maybe we should all go to the diner while you’re here,” Olivia said, narrowing her eyes at Wells, taunting him into submission.
Wells glared at her. “My business trip was canceled. All the flights on the East Coast are down with a computer malfunction. So I came here for a long weekend instead.”
“Martha?” Pop called from the kitchen.
“Coming! Annabelle, do you want to help me set the table? We need to put your art right in the middle for our decorations.”
Annabelle popped up, grabbing her coloring pages of fall leaves, and walked into the kitchen.
Wells swiveled to Olivia. “I told you—”
“I told you—” Olivia said, interrupting Wells.
“—I’m just saying a guy who sleeps with his nanny is probably trying to get the cow with all the milk for free,” Wells hissed.
Olivia gasped indignantly, throwing a pillow at him. “I am not a cow. There is no milk involved,” she said as Luca tried to speak up, but she held out her hand to his chest. “And I’ve told him not to pay me while we’re together.”
“What?” Wells yelled. “That’s literally free milk.”
“Everything all right, dear?” her mom called from the kitchen.
“Fine!” Olivia and Wells said, glaring at each other.
Olivia stood up, all five feet four of her in front of him with her eyes on fire. “I love you, but I will throw you under the bus without a second glance if you cross me.”
Wells threw his head back with a surprised laugh. “See, I always knew there was a part of dad somewhere in there. I just hadn’t looked hard enough yet. Fine. Truce.”
“Truce,” she echoed. “And stop calling me milk!” She smacked his arm.
“Food’s ready, kids,” Pop called from the kitchen.
They set down platters of food so the dining room table was nearly covered. Her mom had decorated the center of the table for fall, mixing in evergreens and leaves together with low twinkle lights.
“Whoa,” Annabelle said in awe, looking at the table. “That’s a lot of food. It’s like a commercial.”
“This does look amazing. Thank you so much for having us,” Luca said politely.
“Oh”—Olivia’s mom waved away the compliment—“that’s so nice. You’re welcome.”
“We never eat food like this,” Annabelle said as she stared down the table at the sparkly table runner laden with heaping platters of food.
Luca chuckled. “I do feed her, I promise,” he said, and her family smiled at him. “We just usually don’t make a meal with lots of sides because it’s just me cooking.”
Her mom started passing dishes around. “You’re welcome to join us for Thanksgiving if you don’t have any other plans.”
“Oh. Uh…” Olivia said, panicking. Is that too much? Too soon?
Her mother continued, unbothered. “We love having lots of people join since our family is scattered around the U.S.”
Olivia tried to read Luca’s expression across the table. “Marcy’s family is nearby, right? Do you normally spend it with them?”