28. Olivia
Olivia
Monday morning. The office hummed with phones and chatter and the particular energy of a newsroom that never fully stops. Olivia stared at her monitor as the scheduled appointments blurred into one another.
Her mind was still in the hotel room. Still in a suite with the door clicking shut behind him.
The desk phone chirped. Reception.
"Olivia? You have a delivery up here."
She leaned back. "What is it?"
"The most magnificent bouquet I have ever seen." The receptionist's voice was genuinely breathless.
Olivia was moving before she'd hung up the receiver.
She spotted them as soon as she stepped into the lobby: a huge crystal vase filled with two dozen long-stemmed white roses. They seemed to glow under the fluorescent lights, looking out of place in a Tampa television station. Her cheeks grew warm before she even reached the desk.
She carried them back through the office without looking at anyone, aware of the eyes following her anyway. She set the vase down, reached between the stems for the small white envelope, and pulled the card.
I appreciate the time. You're always on my mind. Nicholas.
She read it twice and traced the words with her thumb. A bittersweet smile crossed her lips, both warm and aching. He felt close and far away at once, giving her everything and nothing all at the same time.
She picked up her phone. Her thumbs hovered over the screen for a moment.
Thank you so much. They are the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen. I miss you.
She hit send. Watched the typing bubbles appear. Disappear. The uncertainty wound tight in her stomach.
The phone chimed.
I miss you too. Talk soon.
She leaned back, closed her eyes, and breathed in the roses. Their scent was sharp, sweet, and almost overwhelming. It wasn't everything she wanted. Her chest ached with the pain of almost. But for a Monday morning, it had to be enough.
The rest of the week moved under harsh office lights and a schedule that didn't care about her personal life. She was grateful for it.
When Saturday came, it felt hollow.
She wandered through stores with Julia, looking for distraction in window displays and small purchases that didn't fix anything.
Their conversation circled anxiously around the divorce: what she should do next, how long it would take, whether Mark would make it brutal.
Still, it kept drifting back to Nicholas, the way water finds low ground.
Julia listened without rushing her. Then, gently, she said it, “Maybe you should think about dating again. Getting yourself back out there.”
Olivia shook her head. "I can't. I can't think about anyone else right now. I can't shake what I feel for him."
Julia's voice was tender but clear. "I know it's hard.
But maybe you have to accept it might not work out the way you want.
He does care about you—anyone can see that from everything he's done, everything you've shared.
But his life is in Miami, and yours is here.
" She paused. "If it's meant to be, give him time to sort through his feelings. If he loves you as much as you hope, he'll come back. If he doesn’t, it wasn’t meant to be. All you can do right now is wait."
Olivia nodded slowly. Julia was right. She knew she was right. It didn't make the waiting feel any lighter, but she knew.
"I can always count on you for the weekend shopping, at least," Olivia said.
They both laughed, and for a moment, the weight lifted just enough to breathe.
Sunday passed quietly. She tidied the apartment, settled into a novel, and made herself a promise to focus on work and give Nicholas the space he needed. She meant it when she said it.
The following week, she threw herself into longer hours, more prep, the kind of focused professional energy she'd been letting slide. She was good at her job, and she let herself remember that.
She spent another Saturday shopping with Julia, and Sunday was quiet. Somehow it played on her. She couldn't stop thinking about the Sunday morning Nicholas left. She kept seeing him leave that morning. The door. The sound of it. The look on his face.
By Monday morning, she couldn't hold it together anymore.
Lauren was passing her desk at eleven when she stopped. Olivia hadn't said a word. She didn't need to.
"Come to my office," Lauren said quietly.
They sat with the blinds drawn. Olivia didn't just cry; she broke down, shaking and sobbing through a pile of tissues while Lauren sat beside her, not trying to fix it, just letting it pass until it slowed on its own.
When it did, Lauren leaned forward. "Olivia. Have you spoken to Nicholas since the Sunday he left?"
She shook her head.
"Then why don't you call him?"
"I don't want to pressure him. And I'm afraid of hearing what I don't want to hear." She pressed the tissue to her eyes. "I need to let him figure out what he wants. I know that."
"That makes sense," Lauren said. "But in the meantime, you need to push forward. Are you sure about the divorce? Are you having second thoughts?"
The grief flared up instantly, something shifting in Olivia's chest from soft to electric. She lifted her head. "I have never been more certain of anything in my life. Nicholas or no Nicholas, I never want to see Mark again. I gave him the brightest years of my youth, and he trampled them."
Lauren nodded, recognizing the shift. "With that clear, have you decided on a lawyer?"
"Nicholas recommended someone. He says she's the best in the state, and there would be no fee." She looked at her hands. "I still feel like a charity case accepting his help."
"That's nonsense," Lauren said, with the kind of firmness that comes from having no patience for misplaced pride.
"If Nicholas offered that, take it. His family is connected in ways most people in this city aren't. And I've seen the way he looks at you, Olivia—that is not a passing glance.
Don't be afraid to accept help when you need it.
Ask yourself: if Nicholas needed help, and you offered it, would you want him to refuse it because it felt like charity? "
Olivia looked at her phone.
"Do you really think I should call?"
"I don't know what you're waiting for," Lauren said.
She took a breath—the first one in days that didn't feel like lifting something heavy. "Thanks, Lauren."
She went back to her office, picked up the number Nicholas had given her, and dialed before she could talk herself out of it.
"DeLuca and DeLuca Law Firm, how can I direct your call?"
"Alexandra DeLuca, please." Her voice was steadier than she felt.
"Please hold. Connecting you now."
A new voice picked up. Crisp. Efficient. "Alexandra DeLuca's office, this is Lois. How can I help you?"
"I'd like to speak to Alexandra."
"I'm sorry, Alexandra is out of the office. Can I take a message?"
Olivia's chest deflated. "Can you tell her Olivia Daniels called? She can reach me at 813-596-8845."
"Of course. She or her assistant will get back to you by the end of the week."
End of the week? Dread prickled in. She was running out of courage and didn't have a week's worth left.
"Can you also mention that Nicholas Moretti asked me to call?"
The silence on the other end was immediate. Then Lois's tone changed. The professional neutrality was replaced by something noticeably more attentive, almost deferential.
"Oh—certainly. I'll make sure Alexandra knows Mr. Moretti referred you."
After the call ended, Olivia stared at her phone. The name Nicholas Moretti wasn't just a name. It was a skeleton key.
She opened a search engine and typed in "Alexandra DeLuca," partly out of curiosity and partly to find out who would be supporting her.
The articles surprised her. Fierce in court.
A "pit bull in the courtroom." Style and substance in equal measure.
One piece mentioned she took particular satisfaction in cases where men used financial power against their wives.
Good, Olivia thought. Good.
Her cell buzzed less than five minutes later. Miami area code.
"Hello."
"Olivia?"
"Yes."
"This is Alexandra DeLuca. Is this a good time to chat?"
Her voice was sharp, confident, and completely in control. It was the voice of a woman who never doubted she belonged in any room she entered.
"Yes, it's fine," Olivia said, sitting up straight.
"I already did a preliminary dive into Mark's finances when Nicholas asked me to review your prenup," Alexandra said, skipping pleasantries entirely. "So let me ask you—what is it you want out of this divorce?"
Olivia blinked. "I'd never really asked Mark for anything. He gave me what I needed financially, but always made it feel like an allowance."
"Well, if you decide to fight this, it won't be an allowance you get—I can assure you of that."
Olivia sat straighter. For the first time, the word divorce didn't feel like something happening to her. It felt like something she was choosing. "Yes. I want to fight this."
"Good," Alexandra said. "Then that's what we'll do. Mark thinks he's holding all the cards right now. That will change. I need you to sign some paperwork so I can legally get started. Can we do a Zoom call this afternoon?"
Olivia checked her calendar. "Yes."
"My assistant Brooke will set it up for 3 PM and email you some preliminary questions. Can you text me your email address?"
"Texting it now."
"Perfect. It was a pleasure, Olivia. I'll see you at three."
When the call ended, she slumped back in her chair and let out a long, shaky breath. Relief washed over her, sharp, unexpected, and completely welcome. Nicholas had been right. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt a pulse of something electric move through her chest.
Power. Real power. Hers.
She went back to Lauren's office and tapped on the door.
Lauren looked up. "I take it the lawyer made you smile."
Olivia laughed. "Yes, she did."
At 3 PM sharp, she clicked the link.