Chapter Twenty-Nine
The airport was a nightmare, busybodies everywhere all at once, lounging on the black plastic chairs, and wandering aimlessly up and down the north terminal, playing chicken with luggage trolleys and children pulling wheeled carry-on packs who were too stubborn to move out of their way.
Slumping down on the dark leather seats of the small Starbucks, Olivia watched as Theo went up to order their drinks, her heart pulling taut when he refused to let her pay.
“You’re doing me a favour. So, I’m paying,” he said.
“But…” Olivia started. But it was hopeless.
Theo gave her a stern look, silencing her feeble protest before telling her to go find them a seat.
Over the course of their… friendship? Relationship?
Business agreement? If she had learned one thing it was that Theo never let her pay.
It was silly to keep arguing about it, but it was only fair that she pay sometimes so she continued to reach for her purse every time a bill came their way.
It had nothing to do with gender or him repaying her favour of attending his sister’s wedding, he simply always reached for his wallet first, and refused to let her split anything.
Instead, he would just brush off her offer and swipe his bank card.
The coffee shop was busy, a sea of MacBook Pros adorned the seating area: university goers and video callers all using them simultaneously as a rowdy French family conversed further along the leather booth.
They were passionate in their discussion, passing each other gingerbread men biscuits and half empty coloured drinks while making wild gestures and laughing loudly when one of them said something that sounded incredibly rushed but poetic in their romantic drawl.
Since April Theo had become a staple in Olivia’s life.
When she was not parading around on his arm, or on one of the dates he had set up for her, she was writing.
Since meeting Edward and, in recent weeks, spending more time with Theo than ever before, she no longer felt extreme pressure over her impending deadline.
Even when she had received another email from Hannah this morning that simply said: ‘Don’t have too much fun in Dublin, deadlines wait for no one.
Meeting time for the end of June to be sent in a follow up email soon. ’
Staring at Theo as he waited at the beverage pick up station, taller than the other travellers beside him, and with his hands deep in the front pockets of his dark-wash jeans, Olivia had to admit that she enjoyed her research.
If it meant watching a handsome man rock back and forth unconsciously on the heels of his feet as he waited for the barista to say his name, then, yeah.
The research was no trouble. Especially when that man felt her gaze and met it, giving her a wink and lifting the side of his mouth into a grin.
A grin that was so effortless it made her own lips lift in return.
The kind of grin that said, I caught you staring at me, but it’s okay; I like you looking at me.
Taking in a deep breath, she broke eye contact and instead busied herself with her phone, sinking further into the questionable brown leather.
“One latte for the lady,” Theo said, placing a takeaway cup on the small, round black table between them. Pulling his chair out, he took a seat, his long legs stretching under the table and brushing up against hers in the tight space.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she teased, moving the cardboard closer to her, fiddling with the heat-protective sleeve he had placed around the cup and cradling it in her hands.
People must think her mad, ordering a hot beverage in the height of summer.
But she felt better after noticing that Theo was just as crazy, steam rising from his small takeaway cup.
“What did you get?” she asked, nodding her head towards the cup in his large hand. It was almost comedic how small the takeaway cup looked. Olivia bet he could drink the beverage in one gulp.
“Double Espresso.” Theo took a small sip.
“So… straight bean juice then.”
His lips curled up around the cup. “Ah, but hot, delicious bean juice.”
“Can I try it?” she asked, immediately regretting it.
Casually sharing drinks seemed almost too intimate.
They were friends, but were they really that friendly?
Especially after the night they had shared together last weekend, which had left her in a week-long recovery.
Did it really happen? Did I dream it? She had written a good chunk of her novel after that night, and now only had one final chapter to write and a quick edit sweep to do before she contacted Hannah with the news that she had done it.
Created a leading man she was proud of and finished the book.
She expected Theo to say no, but she had never tried an Espresso before, and the rich coffee aroma wafting across the table towards her seemed heavenly. Rich and full-bodied arabica.
“Knock yourself out,” he said, sliding it along the table. “Be careful though, it’s hot.”
Olivia picked up the small cup, her eyes never straying from his as she took a tentative sip. For a moment their eyes locked, a flash of something dark and brooding flickered in his brown orbs before his gaze flickered down to her lips, wrapped tentatively around where his own lips had just been.
The scalding liquid hit Olivia’s tongue much faster than she anticipated, making her pull back with a harsh gasp and quickly chase it with a mouthful of her own frothy beverage. “I think I just burned all my taste buds off of my tongue.”
Theo let out a laugh, taking his small cup back with a shake of his head. “I told you to be careful.”
“I thought I was but then you—” You looked at me like you want my lips on yours instead of on this recyclable paper cup… Olivia blushed at her thought, looking around the café a failed attempt at smothering the heat rushing into her cheeks.
“I, what?” Theo glanced at her, his eyes gleaming with the same glint that had shone brightly like a spotlight when she had taken the sip of his drink.
The glint that highlighted mischievous intentions and reflected every dirty fantasy she’d imagined doing with him across his face in a determined flicker.
She was immediately disappointed by the flavour. After travelling in her early twenties she had learned the glory of Australian coffee and had been on the hunt for a British equivalent ever since. She was yet to find it.
“Do you want some of mine?” she said. Her latte was nothing like his beverage of choice, but it was only polite.
“I’m alright, darling,” Theo muttered before gazing down at the sea of travellers below.
The café was on the second level, numerous restaurants and coffee shops littering the narrow airport wing. They had passed a Mexican place on their short walk there, and her mouth had watered at the smell of warm quesadillas and fresh guacamole.
At least Ireland was a short plane journey. From speaking to Georgia, Theo had the inside scoop on the reception menu, and Olivia had to admit, the grilled steak was sounding more and more delicious as time went by.
The flight had been delayed a half hour, and they were cutting it fine.
With Olivia needing to write and Theo wrapping a few things up at his work, they had booked a later flight.
The wedding was starting promptly at two in the afternoon, and they needed to be on it once the wheels touched down.
With that thought, she polished off her latte and sighed.
Ten minutes later, their boarding call was announced.
The venue Georgia had picked to get married in was stunning.
Gorgeous grey bricks were built up to five stories tall, thick pillars lining the double entrance doors.
Vines of wisteria crawled up the walls, kissing the old building with flashes of green and violet purple.
White rose bushes bloomed in a row against the front walls of the estate, with small gravel stones not too dissimilar to the ones at Georgia and Theo’s parents’ house creating a circular driveway around a lavish stone fountain.
It was over the top but traditional, and completely Georgia.
After arriving in Ireland, Theo and Olivia had raced to the taxi and made the short drive out into the countryside where this grandiose manor house stood proudly amongst the relics of a small village.
It was close enough to Dublin to be accessible, yet far enough to feel as though you were in a completely different world.
“Wow,” Olivia muttered to herself as they exited the taxi. “This is beautiful.”
“I’ll go check us in,” Theo said, heaving both bags, one in each hand up the stone steps and through the grand door.
“Yeah… sure.” Olivia turned and faced the garden, which curved around the right side of the house.
In the distance, about thirty feet away from the patio, she could see white fold-out chairs stationed on the grass, fairy lights hanging down from a huge oak at the end of what she assumed was an aisle of Persian carpet rugs. It was beautiful.
People were already heading to their chairs, wafting their faces with the order of service in a desperate attempt to find relief from the unusually hot summer heat.
Hurrying up the stone steps, Olivia was on a mission. With the ceremony a short thirty minutes away, she had a lot to do. Hair. Make-up. Dress. She had better get inside and get ready.
Her face was bare, her hair losing the curls she had hastily put in them earlier that morning, and the bridesmaid dress she was to wear waiting for her in the bridal suite.
Georgia had been incredibly specific about what time the bridesmaids were meeting in the bridal suite, and with the clock ticking, Olivia’s time was running out faster than it had during her university exams.
Catching up to Theo, she refused to take in the decor of the reception area.
She could do that later. Right now, she had to go get changed, slather on some foundation, blush and mascara and head down to play her part as doting bridesmaid and wedding guest. The last thing she wanted to do was let Theo’s sister down.
It had been a complete surprise when Georgia had insisted, she be one of her bridesmaids, and quickly welcomed her to group chats and wedding day preparation details that she didn’t really need to know but was happy to acknowledge.
Olivia headed down a long, carpeted corridor, eyes bulging at the rose detailing on the ceiling and the gold-painted skirtings. Making her way across the plush carpet, she looked around noting the two sets of white double doors on either side of an old-framed portrait.
The bride on one side, the groom on the other.
Olivia had given little thought to if she wanted to get married in the future.
After Micah, she couldn’t picture herself standing, as Georgia was, white dress billowing around her, crystals littered in her hair, but with time, and the ability to heal, maybe, if she found the right person, maybe, she could think about again.
Someone for her, and not for her leading lady.
Someone who met Olivia’s criteria, someone who would make her believe in love again.
Someone who was understanding about the smutty romance she wrote and did not judge her for writing it.
A leading man who would make her realise that she was ready to love again.
Her eyes met Theo’s as he stepped towards the groom’s door, the slow smirk that settled on his lips sending heat down her body.
With a deep breath, and her bag tucked to her side, she sent Theo a wink and brief salute of good luck, before swinging the white double doors open and entering the chaos of bridal squeals, silk fabrics and floral bouquets.