Chapter Thirty-Two
Olivia nodded, stepping forward into triangle pose. “Yes.”
Danielle followed suit. “Damn.”
Upon returning to London, Danielle had bought a coupon for a new Hot Yoga place in Fulham, and promptly invited Olivia, saying it would be a prime opportunity to destress from her less-than-ideal weekend.
“What?” The instructor sent Olivia a dirty look as she passed, the directions for the next pose coming out far more pointedly than the others.
Together, Olivia and Danielle lowered themselves – less gracefully than the other women in the class – down to their mat.
“You let that poor man listen to you natter on about your novel the whole night and you didn’t even give him a blow job?” Danielle’s arms shook as she pressed up into cobra pose.
“Correction: Theo asked about my novel. He listened of his own volition.”
“You didn’t deny anything about the blow job.”
“Ssh,” the instructor snapped, hand cupping over the microphone.
“I did not give him a blow job. We just talked,” Olivia whispered as she felt a drip of sweat make its way down her back.
At the thought of her evening with Theo, their heads huddled together as they sat side by side on her sofa talking about everything to do with her book, the main character’s motivations and the leading man’s attributes, a grin began to take hold over her face. “It was actually really… nice.”
“Nice.” Danielle coughed. “Nice is a word you use to describe the butt ugly wallpaper your mum has put up when she asks you what you think, not an intimate evening with a potential boyfriend.”
The instructor told them to take three deep breaths, giving Olivia time to mull over her friend’s words. Was Theo a potential boyfriend? Sure, they’d had a few kisses and that one night at the hotel, but could Olivia see her starting a relationship with him? She was unsure.
Olivia drew in a third and final deep breath before placing her hands together.
“… and with your final breath, bring your hands together in a prayer pose. Our class has now ended, take your time to clean your mats, and I hope to see you all next time for another Hot Yoga session. Have a lovely week. Namaste.” The instructor nodded her head, hands in prayer pose as she let the music play in the background.
“Namaste,” a chorus of voices echoed back, before the familiar shuffling of people getting up sounded throughout the small room.
Danielle sat up, her body slick with sweat as she leaned forward and grabbed her drink bottle and took a large gulp of water. “I mean, do you see the two of you going any further, perhaps going on some real dates?”
Olivia stood, pushing herself up, and began to roll up her mat with careful hands.
“I’m not sure. My first draft is almost finished, and I’ve technically already completed my side of the agreement going to Georgia’s wedding.
I’m not even sure if I need him any more to write.
I’ve planned it all out, I just have to write. ”
“But do you want him?” Danielle asked, rolling up her mat and slinging it over her shoulder.
Olivia wiped her forehead and bit her lip.
There had been a moment, somewhere in the collage of time, when the dates she had been on with Theo transformed from fake to feeling real.
The subtle touches, the whispered sweet nothings that became sweet somethings.
The way he reassured her, encouraged her, supported her.
The only other time she had felt this way was with Micah, and although that scared the living daylights out of her, it made her feel exhilarated, as though her nerves had been struck by electric lightning, shocking her with the possibility that one day, yes, she would want him.
The library Olivia had chosen to write at today was bigger than the usual community one, with over seven floors and independent research areas you could book out to study, write or read.
Inviting Theo had been spontaneous, but with her manuscript almost finished, she wanted one last meeting with him to make sure she had gotten everything right.
That her notes and scribbles made sense, and as silly as it sounded, Theo helped her think clearer.
They hadn’t spoken much since the wedding.
He had been busy at work and had cancelled their weekend meet-up to go to family dinner again for the first time since the wedding trip.
He said it had been awkward as hell, Georgia nowhere to be found, and Finn not in attendance.
His father had tried to make conversation, and his mother had pulled out all the stops, making his sister’s favourite food in the hope it would lift her spirits, but alas, she had not shown and the three of them had sat there in stagnant conversation, all still a bit shocked over the events of the previous fortnight.
“I’ve spoken to Georgia a few times, but I just don’t know what else I can do for her.
” Theo let out a sigh. His response to Olivia asking him how his sister was, nothing but truthful, and the hurt in his tone making her clutch her notebook tighter as they made their way to the space she had booked out.
“You’re a good brother, Theo. She’s lucky to have you.” Olivia sent him a reassuring smile.
“Let’s not talk about this anymore. Give me updates on Naomi and her leading man.
” Theo followed her into the small section, a table and chairs resting against the wall of windows.
Behind them, dark rows of books and journals were crammed together, blue lettered cardboard signs dividing the books into sections.
They were the only ones there, the library thrumming on the level across from them, with the faint sound of people walking down the hallways on the other side of the large wooden staircase.
“We’re the only ones here.” Theo frowned, looking around the space in amazement.
“Isn’t it great? I found it when I was writing my third book.
Who would have thought in the middle of a library in London you could practically have a whole section to yourself?
” Olivia placed her notebooks down on the wooden table with a smile and slid into the green chair, snapping back the plastic and clicking her pen.
An hour, and some sneaky biscuits later, Theo scanned the notes of her final chapter, eyes skimming over the outline as Olivia typed away on her laptop.
“Your writer’s block is gone.”
Olivia looked up from her laptop and nodded. “Yes, it is.”
“When did you realise it had disappeared?” he asked, closing the notebook and leaning on his elbow.
Sometime during her typing he had stood to pace, making his way closer and closer until he sat sideways on the chair next to her, legs crossed, locking her into her chair at the table.
She couldn’t move even if she wanted to, the warmth of his skin burning into her side, making her blush more than the love scene she had written fifteen minutes ago during his trip up and down the aisles.
When did you realise it had disappeared?
Olivia knew the exact moment, she had been sitting at her dining table, typing with the same enthusiasm as just now.
She had been typing when he had appeared, sitting at his space on the right-hand side of her old shabby loveseat, eyes searing into her back as she typed.
“Stop that,” she had said out loud, as if he were really there, a tangible being rather than just a figment of her imagination. There or not, he had once been real. Micah.
“Stop what, my love?” she had heard him whisper back. She could picture him leaning forward on his arms and exhaling a breathy sigh.
“Stop judging me. It’s already hard enough to write without you.”
“I’m not judging, I’m observing.” His gaze moved from the white screen of her laptop, where a blinking cursor could be seen, to the small wispy hairs that had fallen out of her messy bun framing her high cheekbones.
Sitting there in the small plush seat, her knit cardigan falling off her shoulder revealing her smooth skin.
“You’re writing again.”
Olivia had paused her writing and pulled her lip firmly between her teeth.
Was she really imagining her dead fiancé talking to her as she wrote?
Yes, yes she was, and as silly as it sounded, she was going to allow herself this brief moment of insanity, because she got to speak to him again. Even if it was just her imagination.
Micah stood from the armchair and walked towards her with long strides, his brown curly hair let down and wild, his hazel eyes shining as he continued to look at her in complete and utter wonder. “I always thought you were the most beautiful when you wrote.”
She could feel his figure drawing closer to her as she pressed down on more keys, the cold waft of air brushing the back of her neck and sending a shiver down her spine.
“Your mind, Livvy, is exquisite. I’m so glad you’re allowing yourself the freedom to write again.”
“You’re not angry?” Olivia had asked, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Micah frowned, looking at her with questioning eyes. “Why would I ever be mad at you, my love?”
“Because I forgot your birthday, because I grieved you for so long, because… when I’m with him, I’m not thinking of you.”
“When you’re with him, I see my Livvy again. That doesn’t make me angry in the slightest. If I was there, I would shake his hand and tell him how thankful I am for him. For Theo.”
Olivia had frowned at her late fiancé’s words, letting them settle in her mind as she pressed enter and began another sentence. “How can you feel that way, when all I feel is heavy with guilt.”
Micah placed a hand on her shoulder, watching as she continued to type words about her leading man down on the document. “I feel that way because he has made you smile again. How can I be angry with you for moving on?”
“But you were mine.”
“And now you’ve found another.”
“I don’t want to forget about you.”
“You won’t. I’ll always be with you, Olivia.” Micah bent his head down, brushing his lips against her cheek in a whispered kiss. “In here.”
Olivia remembered reaching up, placing her hand on her chest, covering the cool touch of his. Closing her eyes, she let out a strangled breath, feeling the steady thrum of her heart beneath her touch. By the time she had opened her eyes, Micah was gone, and so too, was her writer’s block.