Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Olivia
After that, I started avoiding him.
I timed my arrivals at Juliet's ballet class right down to the minute, and when it ended, I grabbed my bag and bolted, no lingering.
His invitations? All shot down. Sophie's wedding was this Saturday, and with all the prep, it was the perfect excuse. I used it without a shred of guilt.
I packed my schedule tight. Ran errands to the florist for Sophie, went with her for the final dress fitting, double-checked the guest seating chart, rewrote her thank-you speech twice. Anything to keep moving, I grabbed it.
Ella caught me once, standing in the doorway of Sophie's living room, watching me sprawl on the carpet sorting seating cards one by one. She rolled her eyes, shocked. "Oh, honey! Are you helping Sophie or running for your life?"
"Helping Sophie." I didn't look up.
She sighed and walked away.
But even then, at night, after Leo crashed out and the apartment went quiet, all the stuff I pushed down during the day bubbled up.
The lights under the garden arbor, the way he gripped my fingers, his lips brushing my ear as he said, "I miss you"—and that flash of hurt in his eyes when I shoved him away.
I squeezed my eyes shut, buried my face in the pillow, and groaned.
What the hell was I supposed to do?
Two days before the wedding, I went with Sophie to pick up the last batch of decor samples from the wedding planner. Leo tagged along, clutching a stick he snagged off the sidewalk, poking at the ground as we walked.
I hauled a cardboard box out of the shop. Leo darted ahead, splashed into a puddle, soaking his pant legs. He crouched to inspect the water when someone stepped around, nearly bumping him.
"Watch it." The guy bent down, steadied Leo.
Leo looked up, locked eyes, froze for two full seconds, then exploded.
"Seb!"
He dropped my hand, barreled into Sebastian's arms, wrapped both around his waist, tilted his face up, eyes shining like bulbs. "What are you doing here!"
Sebastian glanced down, hoisted him up, tested his weight. "Gained a few."
"I grew taller!" Leo puffed his chest. "Mom says six whole inches! Did you grow, Seb?"
"Nope."
"Then I beat you," Leo patted his shoulder smugly. "It's okay, you're already tall."
Sebastian chuckled, set him down, then looked at me, surprise flickering. "You're in New York? Thought you were still in France."
"Yep," I said. "You? Here on business?"
"Sort of." He nodded. "What are you up to?"
"My sister's getting married. Running errands for her." I shifted the box in my arms.
"Need a hand?" He reached out, gesturing for it.
"No, I—"
"Mom," Leo tugged my sleeve. "The box is heavy. Let Seb carry it."
I shot Leo a look, handed it over.
Sebastian took it, bounced it lightly. "How much more?"
"Two more inside."
"I'll grab 'em," he said. "You watch Leo." He turned, strode into the shop, all business, like this was part of his plan.
Leo craned his neck after him, tilted his head. "Mom, how's Seb in New York, too?"
"Coincidence."
"Magical," he nodded thoughtfully, then lit up. "Mom, did he bring me bread?"
"Ask him yourself."
Sebastian emerged quickly, boxes stacked, walking steady. He loaded them into the taxi trunk, slammed it shut, dusted his hands.
Leo zipped over, craned up. "Seb, got any financiers?"
Sebastian looked down. "No."
Leo pouted. "You promised."
"Next time," he said. "I owe ya."
Leo pondered, stuck out his hand solemnly. "Pinky swear."
Sebastian bent, hooked pinkies, thumb-stamped it. Leo grinned, satisfied.
I watched them, a little dazed. In France, Sebastian visited often, always with gifts for Leo, taking him to the park, teaching him to bike. He never asked about Leo's dad, never pried into my past. He was just there, close enough to lean on, no strings.
"You look off." Sebastian's voice snapped me back. He eyed me, brow creased. "Something wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Every time you say nothing, it's something." He leaned back, arms crossed, relaxed, but his eyes drilled. "Need help?"
"No."
"Olivia." His voice softened. "I think at Sophie's wedding, every lady gets an escort, right?"
I blinked.
"You going alone with Leo? It'll wear you out." He continued. "Plus, you'll need a dance partner. Mind if I tag along?"
"I—"
"Mom, let Uncle Seb come!" Leo yanked my sleeve. "He can play with me, so you can help Aunt Sophie!"
I met Leo's eager eyes, then Sebastian's. He smiled, gentle, so gentle it twisted guilt in me—because I said yes not for him, but for a distraction from Ezio.
"Okay," I said. "Thanks."
Leo whooped, leaped into Sebastian's arms. Sebastian hoisted him overhead, making him giggle. Watching, I cracked a real smile, first in ages.
Sophie's wedding was in a small chapel. Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, splashing rainbow spots on the floor.
I wore a pale lavender gown, hair pinned up with a pearl clip from Sophie. She stood before me in white, bouquet in hand, took a deep breath.
"Olivia, I'm nervous."
"Don't be." I adjusted her veil. "Just walk to him."
"How do I look? The veil?"
"Relax, you're gorgeous, hon."
She smiled, hooked my arm. Music swelled, and we stepped toward the altar. Glass-tinted light danced on her dress, my skirt, guests' faces.
I focused ahead, on the waiting groom. Sophie's hand trembled on my arm; I patted it. Then my peripheral caught something—in the aisle shadow, by a pillar.
Dark suit, tie neat. He lounged against the pillar, hands pocketed, casual, but his eyes pinned me.
My step faltered.
Sophie noticed, whispered, "Olivia?"
"Nothing." I yanked my gaze forward, kept walking.
But my heart hammered. What was he doing here?
Sophie glanced, lips curved. "Olivia, someone's watching you."
"Shut it."
"Corner guy, eyes like daggers."
"Sophie."
She stuck out her tongue, quieted. At the altar, her fiancé waited, eyes red-rimmed. I placed her hand in his, stepped back. Turning down the steps, my eyes drifted to the corner.
He was still there.
I snapped away, sat in the front row. Leo, in Ella's lap across the aisle, fiddled with petals. My pulse thumped in my ears.
After the ceremony, guests spilled into the reception hall. White cloths draped long tables, flowers and candles everywhere, chandeliers casting warm gold light.
I sat, Leo beside me, smearing cake cream on his mouth. Sebastian on my other side poured champagne. I took it, sipped, scanned the room.
No sign of him.
Maybe he left. Maybe just a cameo, maybe he didn't care—my fingers tightened on the glass. What was I looking for? Wasn't I avoiding him?
"Looking for someone?" Ella sidled up, champagne in hand, grinning.
"No one."
"No one, but you're scanning like a hawk?" She plopped down, eyed Sebastian, whispered, "Your date's cute. That French guy who's always after you?"
"Ella."
"I'm serious," she sipped. "He looks gentler. Doesn't seem like the type to smuggle drugs and guns on the side."
"Ella!" I raised my voice.
Sebastian chuckled beside me, said nothing. He stood, said he'd grab food, left us space. Ella watched him go, turned, eyes sparkling.
"Seriously, he's chasing you, right? When's it official?"
"Just friends. Please, no gossip, Ella."
"Friends?" She arched a brow. "He doesn't look at you like a friend."
"Ella, it's Sophie's wedding."
"Fine, fine." She raised her glass, smiled. "But think about it. He's a catch."
She stood, sauntered off. I sat, breathed deep, scanned again.
Still no him.
The dancing started. First dance: bride and groom. Sophie leaned on his shoulder, eyes closed, smile soft, like floating on clouds. Guests circled the floor, clapping, laughing, glasses glinting.
I stood outside the crowd, holding warm champagne. Sebastian beside me; Leo off with Ella and the kids.
Second song kicked in. Sebastian turned, offered his hand.
"May I?"
I met his eyes. Steady hand, palm up, fingers long. I smiled, placed mine in it.
"Sure."
He led me onto the floor. Solid steps, arm light on my waist. We swayed slow, his palm warm, not hot. I followed, skirt swirling at my ankles, but my mind wandered.
What did Ezio want? To take Leo? He—
"You're distracted." Sebastian pulled me back.
"Sorry."
"Thinking what?"
"Nothing."
He smiled, didn't push. Spun me once, twice. Floor filled, dresses and suits mingling. My gaze drifted over his shoulder, through the crowd.
Then I saw him.
At the floor's edge, by a pillar, wine in hand, face calm, but eyes sharp, fixed on me.
My step hitched with my heart.
"What?" Sebastian dipped his head.
"Nothing. Hot."
"Want air?"
"No." I inhaled, focused on steps. "Keep dancing."
Music shifted, slower, lights dimmed to sultry amber. Couples swapped, skirts whirled, shadows blended.
A hand reached from behind, grabbed mine. Another landed on my waist, heavier than Sebastian's. That heat—scorching, familiar, made me shudder.
Next second, an unyielding pull spun me, and I landed in arms scented with faint cologne.
"You've been avoiding me for a week." Ezio's voice was low.
"I haven't." I denied it fast.
"You have." He spun us, big steps, my skirt flaring. "No calls, no texts, ballet class on the dot and gone. Told Carmen you're busy—then bring another guy to the wedding."
"He's a friend from France."
"Friend?" His jaw tightened. "He doesn't look at you like a friend."
"Like what?"
He didn't answer. Spun us faster; I almost tripped, his hand clamped my waist, steadied me.
"How long you known him?"
"Five years."
"Five years." He repeated it, like chewing glass. "Leo knows him?"
"Yeah."
His grip tightened on my waist.
"He likes you," he said. "You don't see it?"
"Ezio, what gives you the right?"
His eyes shifted.
"No right," he said, voice low. "But I wanna know."
"You wanna know a lot," I said. "What do you give? You said start over, then what? Thought about Leo? Why I pushed you? Or you think saying it fixes everything?"
I'd held this in since the garden, and the champagne loosened it all.