Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
OLIVIA
Before I can even catch my breath, he flips me onto my back, and he starts touching me again, gently this time, and I'm just scratching his back and pulling him closer to me.
It’s the best sex we’ve ever had. No contest.
We take a breather for a moment, as he is on top of me. We're just there, gasping for air. We don't say anything, but we're feeling everything. Even though I'm tired, this has been an exhausting, passionate, fantastic night. I push him so he's next to me in the bed, and I climb on top of him.
I start kissing him, and he's grabbing my breasts, I’m holding his hair, we are sweaty, and it's messy, and I can feel he's getting hard again, and I start grinding him slowly. I grab him with one hand, and I tease my entrance with it. He’s smirking now, eyes gone dark. “Liv—”
I start riding him slowly in circles, and he's losing it. Then, a bit faster, and he snaps. He pulls me in, shifts us so I’m straddling him upright, face to face—one hand in my hair, the other on my hip, grounding and guiding.
My nails rake down his back. His mouth is on my neck. We’re both loud now, cursing, begging, promising shit we probably shouldn’t. I ride him harder. Faster. It’s filthy and perfect. And we’re both done.
We stay there, he is still inside of me, we’re just kissing slowly.
Eventually, he pulls back just enough to brush a few strands of hair from my cheek, his eyes searching mine with something like wonder. “You, okay?” I nod, smiling through the haze. “More than okay.”
He chuckles, low and warm. “Good. Because I was about to call that the best sex of my life, and it would’ve been awkward if you were, like, ‘meh’.” I laugh and swat at his arm. “You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you?”
“Top-tier talent,” he says, kissing my forehead.
When we finally untangle and get up. “You hungry?” I ask as I walk to the bathroom.
“Starving. But please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who have, like, chia seeds and expired almond milk.
” I laugh. “Worse. I have two frozen pizzas. Shaped like dinosaurs? Courtesy of Matthew and Jeremiah.”
“Perfect,” he says. We wander to the kitchen. The oven hums to life as Ethan preheats it. I sit on the counter, legs swinging, watching him. “You know,” he says, pulling the pizza boxes out, “There’s something poetic about us eating dinosaur-shaped food at 3 a.m.”
“Don’t overthink it. We’re survivors. The dinos weren’t.
” He grins and points a plastic spatula at me.
“That was dark.” The pizzas go in, and a few minutes later, we’re curled up on the couch, plates balanced on our laps, trying not to burn our tongues.
I glance over at him. His bare chest is still flushed from what just happened.
He looks at me like he doesn’t want to blink.
“What?” I ask, cheeks warming. “Nothing,” he says. “Just taking it all in.”
“Me too.” And we eat in silence for a while.
Two Weeks Later
It’s been a week and a half of… us.
The days are starting early now, with coffee in bed and morning sex. I’m trying not to get used to it. But God help me, I am. We haven’t labeled this thing. We have no expectations. And while a girl can dream, the reality always creeps in.
I have to admit that I can see something in the way he brings me Sour Patch Kids from the gas station, just because he was thinking about me, the way his hand finds mine when no one’s watching. The way he acts like my kid’s crayon drawings belong to MoMA.
This no longer feels like teenage love; it feels like we have outgrown every bad thing that has ever happened to us, and now we can be a better version of ourselves.
But under all the good—because yeah, it’s good—there’s this thing I keep stuffing down.
What happens when this month ends? He hasn’t brought it up, and neither have I.
Maybe I’m just scared that the answer is precisely what I don’t want to hear.
Because right now, when he looks at me, it makes sense, but at the end of this month, he might look at me differently, and I’m not ready for that.
I still wake up some mornings with that sharp, empty feeling.
We started this because we were grieving Larna together.
And while grief doesn’t pack its bags and leave overnight, the sad part of it is over.
Now, we find ourselves talking about her peacefully, no tears, just happy thoughts.
Everything feels a bit lighter these days.
I’m liking my life right now. I’m spending more time with my mom, Julia, my dad, and even Anne. They get to see their grandkids, and for the first time in a while, Tacoon feels like home again.
I went to my mom’s house to pick up the kids, and Julia is giving me the 411 on her latest date. I love how easy her love life is. I envy her, really. She’s been ‘dating’ this girl, even though she doesn’t believe in labels. I can see she really likes her. She’s happy. I’m happy.
A text comes up, and I find myself laughing at my cellphone. It’s been a while since I felt this way.
Ethan: Miss you. Withdrawal’s real. Can I come over?
Me: Just picked up the kids, and Matthew’s not feeling great. I’ll have a cozy night in with the boys. Rain check?
Fifteen minutes later, he shows up with soup, Gatorade, crackers, Legos, and a bottle of wine.
We build some strange figure I can’t decipher yet, we play cards, and cuddle under blankets.
The boys giggle at his dumb voices. My heart does this stupid thing where it skips a beat and then beats faster than ever.
I might have a heart problem now that I think about it.
Maybe it’s the father figure in him, perhaps it’s the love he has for me, and for them. But watching him being so parental does something to my ovaries.
Later, as they fall asleep, his phone lights up. It’s her.
Hannah: Do you want the girls to fly out next week?
He shows me the screen. I nod. “The boys are going to David’s next week.
If you want them to come, you’ll have space.
I can help, but only if you want me to meet them.
” I say. He exhales, eyes searching mine.
“You’d really be okay with that?” Am I okay meeting their children?
Absolutely not. I don’t know how I am going to feel, much less how she is going to feel bout this.
About knowing I met her girls. But if I’m in his life, I guess this is bound to happen.
“I’d love to.” If she agreed to this month and us being together, she must know.
As a woman, I get it, but as a mother, I’m terrified.
He texts Hannah back. We settle on the couch, the kids asleep around us, our hands linked. Whatever this is, it’s becoming something real.