Chapter Thirty-Three
Olivia wiped a tear from her eye as she gazed at Theo still sitting next to her.
“Do you remember when we met at the coffee shop, you asked me why I had writer’s block in the first place?”
Theo nodded. He remembered that day as well as she did.
The smell of burned coffee, the blueberry muffin he had ordered, the gold necklace that tormented him for days afterwards, how it complemented the soft pale skin of her collarbone in that cream cardigan…
It was the day he realised he liked her, and the day he had promised to do everything he could to help her find her leading man.
Nodding his head, he watched as Olivia reached up and began to fiddle with her necklace, a thin silver ring looped through a thin chain.
“Well, I said I was struggling to find a genre, that I wanted to write something real. That was true, but not the only reason for my writer’s block.
About a year ago, there was an accident.
” Olivia halted, taking a deep breath before continuing.
She had not dared speak these words out loud for a long time, and even then not to anyone except for a therapist. She had gone, reluctantly, and despite their recommendation never went again.
“My fiancé, Micah, was on his motorbike coming home from work one night when a truck came out of nowhere.”
Theo’s eyes scanned her face as he registered her words.
“The ambulance got there, but he… he haemorrhaged internally on the way to the hospital and, well, he didn’t make it.”
Theo lifted his hand and brought it to Olivia’s shoulder, his thumb drifting over her skin softly as if to say, I’m here, I’m listening, you’re okay.
I’ve got you. He couldn’t possibly imagine what she had gone through, but he could listen, and from the small drop of her shoulders and shaky exhale, he could tell, in that moment, that was all she needed. Someone to listen.
“He had proposed a few months beforehand, during our Christmas holiday to his family’s house. We were both so excited to start our lives together. To love each other for the rest of our lives.”
Theo now understood her writer’s block. She couldn’t write her character’s leading man because she had just lost hers.
It must have been hard writing about love and happy endings when she never got the happy ending she thought she would.
His heart dropped at the thought. She had worked so vigilantly over this past summer to write someone she’d thought was impossible to bring back to life.
Dating strangers seemed like such an insensitive idea to him now.
He should have just done the job himself, entirely; taken her on dates, supported her more, as she did what must have been the hardest job she’d ever do. Heal.
“I didn’t find out until the next morning. His mother called me. She just said that her Micah was dead, and that the funeral was being arranged. That she would email me an invite.” Olivia shook her head as if she still couldn’t believe it. “As if I needed an invite to grieve for my fiancé.
“Micah was always so supportive of my writing. Sometimes I think that he thought everything I touched was magic.” She let out a broken laugh, completely unaware that Theo thought the same thing.
“A silly compliment when I think back on it, but it was enough to give me confidence and pursue my writing career. My mother wanted me to be a teacher, or a counsellor, something that held certainty, but writing was my passion and Micah saw that. He was my leading man, and after he died, I found it difficult to write male characters, not just love interests. Every time I tried to picture someone, I’d picture him.
His brown curly hair, his hazel eyes and the silly dance moves he used to do whenever the radio was on and I just…
couldn’t do it. Hannah was courteous enough to push the deadline back a few months to just give me…
time, but it wasn’t until we made our arrangement that I realised I had to get it done.
I had a responsibility, both to myself and him.
Even if it emotionally drained me, I was going to write another leading man.
“Then, after some of our meetings, and some of the terrible dates too, I said his name out loud. I hadn’t said his name since the funeral, and for some reason it felt like I had his blessing.
As if he was helping me write the character, whispering in my ear and giving me strength to continue on without him.
At first I felt so horrible, like I was betraying him in the worst way; that, in some capacity, I was cheating on him and his memory.
But then things started happening during our dates, like you ordering that stupid blueberry muffin that was his favourite, or swapping my tomatoes for your gherkins, or just the gut feeling that I had to speak to you before or after dates, which you were terrible at organising, by the way.
” Theo let out small smile at the comment.
“Those small things made me think that maybe this is what he would want: for me to be vulnerable enough to entertain the thought of liking someone again.”
“He sounds like a very sensible man,” Theo said, his thumb reaching up and brushing aside a golden wave that had broken free of her braid as she had been talking.
“When he wanted to be, he was. Other times he was quirky, the funniest person I’ve ever known.
Knew.” She corrected herself quickly. “Danielle and John were both in shock when I said his name, but after it settled, they said it showed how much I had healed since his passing, that they were so proud of me. Micah had helped me then, and you are helping me now. It was only then I realised that it was because of him, and because of our agreement, that my writer’s block had disappeared. ”
Her admission scorched his skin. The pads of his fingers drifted down her neck, hot to the touch as her body sent sparks up his arms and into the muscle in his chest. He was glad she had known a love with Micah like that, she deserved someone who thought the world of her, and by the sounds of it, his had revolved around her.
Theo grasped her jaw and turned her head so his eyes could meet hers for the first time since she’d begun speaking.
He wanted to know what it meant to him that she’d told him, that she’d explained and answered the one question he had been asking himself over and over for the past three months.
Why did she need his help, when she was so articulate, so precise in the way she planned out chapters, the ways she created arcs and actually wrote?
It wasn’t her talent that had ever been in question, it was her.
She was hurting, and now she needed to know that Theo was grateful for the opportunity to help her, that by writing this book, she had demonstrated what a goddamn amazing, strong woman she was.
“Thank you for telling me, Livvy,” Theo whispered, as if the quiet library rule still applied to them despite being what seemed like miles away from any other person in the building.
Her blue eyes shone back at him, reflecting the dull lights of the literary review section. “You’re welcome. I thought it was about time I gave you a proper answer.”
Theo’s eyes took in every aspect of her face, from the small freckles littering her nose, to the soft wisps of hair falling against her jawline perfectly. She looked like an angel. “I hope you realise that Micah was right?”
“Right about what?” Olivia asked, her eyes becoming dark and heavy as she leaned towards him, their heads huddled together like they always ended up whenever they were sitting next to one another.
Theo moved his legs, his thigh knocking in between hers and slotting in between her chair and the edge of the table, their knees knocking together under the dark wood surface.
“Everything you touch is magic.”
Olivia’s eyes darkened as she leaned forward, plastering a firm and deep kiss upon his lips. Theo’s lips curled up into a smile against hers, and she broke the kiss.
“You really think so?”
His forehead came to rest against hers. “Oh yeah,” he whispered before their lips met once more.
With one kiss, all of Theo’s self-control went out the window.
All he could do was think of her. The way her hip bones dug into his, the subtle thrust of his jeans against the short black shirt she was wearing, their cores rubbing together as he devoured her lips.
Strawberry flavoured, plump and perfect.
Theo grasped her jaw, curling his fingers around the delicate flesh below her earlobe, trailing kisses ferociously across her pale jugular. Brushing aside the golden curls that he adored so much, he bit down.
Hard.
Olivia’s moan was the sweetest music he had ever heard. And it was his.
She was his.
Her pleasure transferred to him, and he loved it. He would make sure she felt everything, everywhere. Simultaneously giving her pain and pleasure and love.
Olivia’s nails dragged down the planes of his chest, her index finger teasing the waistline of his boxers.
“Darling,” he growled. “You better stop that right now or I’ll have to throw you over my shoulder and find the closest bedroom.”
Olivia’s laugh boomed out down the rows of bookshelves around them, her head resting against the dusty novels and magazines behind her.
Grinning, she leaned up and left desperate, open-mouthed, assaulting kisses on his neck and Adam’s apple.
He felt her lift up onto her tiptoes, a second finger looping under the fabric of his boxers and brushing the skin of his pelvis.
Bringing her mouth up to his ears, she thrust their hips together once more.
“Bedroom?” she teased. “I’d rather you take me right here in the literary review section.”
“Liv,” Theo moaned in warning, hoisting her leg up and hooking it around his waist.
With another thrust the pair moaned in synchronicity, their lips millimetres apart, chests heaving, eyelids heavy.