Chapter 1 #2
Before I can voice my refusal, Olivia shifts beside me, reaching out. Her fingers brush over my wrist, a soft but deliberate touch. She meets my gaze, her eyes steady. Then, before I can react, she takes the phone from my hand.
Olivia places the call on speaker, holding the phone between us. “Good morning, Mrs. Caldwell,” she says brightly.
My mother’s demeanor changes instantly. “Good morning, my dear. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all,” Olivia replies. “And thank you for the invitation. I’d love to join you.”
I stiffen beside her. My entire body tenses as I watch her, my pulse hammering in protest.
Mother hums in approval. “Wonderful. I’ll send a car for you in two hours. And Olivia, dear, do ensure Nathaniel does not miss lunch with his father. He tends to be difficult about these things.”
Olivia glances at me, amusement flickering in her gaze. “I’ll make sure he’s there,” she promises.
Mother lets out a pleased little sigh. “That’s lovely to hear. I’ll see you soon, darling. Goodbye, Nathaniel.”
The line clicks off.
For a moment, I say nothing, my entire body thrumming with unspoken frustration.
The last thing I wanted today is for Olivia to be pulled away from me for hours to be in my mother’s company, answering god-knows-what kind of questions about our relationship.
Olivia sets the phone back on the nightstand and turns to me. Sensing the brimming tension beneath my skin, she leans in and presses a soft kiss to my jaw. “You should go,” she coaxes. “It’s just for a few hours.”
I hate that she’s right. I hate even more that I can’t refuse her when she’s looking at me like that—gentle, understanding, but firm.
Before I can argue, she’s already slipping from my grasp, stretching as she slides out of bed. My eyes follow her as she pads toward the bathroom, her bare skin illuminated by the morning light.
She disappears into the shower, leaving me with nothing but the gnawing frustration of knowing the day is out of my control.
I exhale sharply, raking a hand through my hair.
The hours can’t pass fast enough.
Time is slipping through my fingers like sand. No matter how tightly I hold on, the morning continues its cruel march forward, bringing Olivia closer to the moment she’ll walk out that door.
The car my mother sent will be downstairs any moment.
I watch as Olivia reaches for her coat, the simple act filling me with an unease I can’t rationalize. I tell myself she’s coming back. She promised. And yet, an insistent voice in the back of my mind whispers: What if she doesn’t?
What if she spends the afternoon with my mother and sees me for what I really am? A mess. A man barely keeping himself together, suffocating under his own desperation.
What if she realizes she deserves someone whole, someone less…broken?
She turns toward me, distractedly fixing the buttons of her coat, and before I can stop myself, I step into her space. My fingers wrap around her wrist, my thumb pressing over the delicate flutter of her pulse.
“You’ll come back here tonight?” My voice is calm, but there are jagged edges beneath it.
Olivia blinks up at me, her expression softening as if she can sense the weight behind the question. She doesn’t tease or make light of my need.
“Of course, my love. Where else would I go?”
Where else, indeed?
She moves to step away, and instinct overrides everything else. I pull her against me, crushing her to my chest.
She doesn’t resist. She never does. She just lets me take.
My arms lock around her, my face burying into the crook of her neck as I inhale the scent of her. Lilies.
My hold is too tight, too desperate, but she doesn’t pull away.
“Don’t make me wait for you too long.” The words slip from me before I can stop them.
She could remind me that she isn’t actually leaving, that she’s just going to lunch with my mother. She could scold me for being unreasonable. But she doesn’t.
Instead, she slides her hands up my back, pressing herself against me as tightly as I’m holding her.
“I won’t,” she assures me.
I force myself to pull back, just enough to look at her, my fingers brushing against the softness of her cheek.
“Stay in touch with me.”
Her head tilts, studying me with that quiet understanding that both soothes and disturbs me. I know she can see it—the fear clawing at me, the deep-rooted dread that if I let her go now, she won’t return in the same way.
Her hand comes up to cup my face, her thumb gliding over my cheekbone.
“Nate,” she whispers. “I promise that I will come back, my love.”
My throat constricts. I want to believe her. But she doesn’t understand—to think of her slipping out of reach… It’s unbearable.
My fingers weave into her hair, tightening just slightly. “Tell me you love me.”
Her lips part, and I can see the apprehension—the recognition of my growing need for control—but then she relents.
She always gives me what I need.
“I love you, Nathaniel.”
A rush of breath leaves me, something inside my chest momentarily unclenching.
Then I kiss her.
It isn’t gentle. It’s fierce, desperate, consuming. I need her to feel it—to know that I’m hers, just as much as she’s mine.
When I finally, reluctantly, pull away, her lips are parted, her breath unsteady, her eyes dazed. My hands are still on her, my heartbeat still erratic.
She steps away.
And this time, I let her.
I listen to the soft click of the lock as she leaves. And immediately, the hollowness rushes in to take her place.
I last two minutes before I reach for my phone.
Text me when you get there.
I stare at the screen, waiting.
A few moments later, she replies.
OLIVIA
I will. Have a nice lunch with your father.
I exhale, momentarily soothed. But it isn’t enough. It’s never enough.
Ten minutes pass. I tap out another message.
What car did my mother send for you?
Five minutes later, her response comes.
OLIVIA
A Bentley. Why?
I don’t answer. I just need to know.
Another ten minutes.
Who else will be there?
This time, she takes longer to reply. Too long.
Maybe she missed the notification. That’s fine, I’ll just text her again.
If you want to leave, call me. I’ll come get you.
Still nothing.
A slow, simmering frustration burns beneath my skin. My muscles coil, tension creeps up my spine.
Then—fucking finally.
OLIVIA
Sorry! Just arrived. Getting out of the car now.
The relief is instant. But it isn’t enough.
I press call before I can stop myself.
She picks up after two rings. “Nathaniel.” Her tone is warm and amused.
“You know I hate waiting.”
“I was getting out of the car.”
A beat of silence. Then, so gently, she asks, “Are you okay?”
No. I’m not fucking okay. I need her like I need my next breath.
I force a low exhale and mutter, “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
I can imagine her expression on the other end of the line. “I’ll see you later, okay?” she coaxes, her voice soft.
The words should reassure me. They don’t.
She sounds so certain, like the thought of leaving me hasn’t even crossed her mind. But that’s the thing about people—they can change their minds. How can I make sure that she won’t?
“Promise me,” I say.
“I promise.”
I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the phone. “Okay.”
She lingers for a second longer before whispering, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I reply.
Then I hang up before I can ask her to say it again.
My hands clench into fists.
I’m being irrational. I know that.
But knowing does little to change the way it feels.
I force myself to move, to do something other than spiral. I make my way to the closet, pulling out a dress shirt and slacks to meet my father for lunch.
It feels like preparing for war.
My father is expecting me to show up, to be the polished, controlled version of myself that I’ve spent years perfecting. The same version he picked apart at dinner, comparing me to the ghost of the brother I can never be.
I’m exhausted.
Emotionally stripped bare.
But I’m not about to give Charles Caldwell another reason to look at me with disappointment and disdain.
I straighten my cuffs, button my jacket, and force the mask back into place.
By the time I step out of the apartment, I look the part of the heir my father wanted.
But inside?
Inside, I’m still aching for the only thing that has ever felt real. And she isn’t here with me.