Chapter Twenty-Six Olivia #2
“I always thought it was funny.” Paula’s voice grew slightly wistful. “You were such a serious little thing at that age, but you loved pretending to be a bride.”
“I wonder what that was about.” Lulu sounded suddenly sad, as if worried what too much probing would reveal. “You had too many responsibilities when you were young. Maybe you fantasized about getting swept away by someone who’d take care of you.”
“I don’t think it’s that deep, Mom. It was probably just about the dress. And the cake.”
A server came to take their order. Olivia had lost track of what meal she was supposed to be on and asked for a side salad and an iced coffee. “Are you one of those women who loses a bunch of weight after breakups?” Paula asked worriedly.
“Breakup?” Olivia repeated.
“We heard about you and Zack.”
“Oh? Yeah. I guess? I mean, we were hardly dating, so I’m not sure it counts as a breakup. I didn’t think many people knew we were even together.”
“I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” Lulu said. “I was just so happy, I probably spread the news a bit too widely. He’s had a crush on you for ages.”
Olivia whipped around to face her mother. “Wait, what?”
“He admitted it once, that time he and Jonathan came over for Thanksgiving. I think he was a little drunk. It was very sweet.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He made me promise not to say anything. He sounded so scared and earnest, what could I do? I knew he wasn’t your type, so it didn’t seem worth breaking his confidence.”
“That Thanksgiving was almost two years ago,” Olivia said, her mind reeling.
She’d been deeply annoyed when Jonathan invited Zack, and even more irritated when she’d ended up seated next to him.
They’d debated student loan forgiveness, as she recalled.
And universal basic income, which Olivia had called a beautiful fairy tale for bleeding-heart liberals who’d studied the history of anarchist zines instead of economics.
(Something she didn’t actually believe; she just wanted to push his buttons.) Even after dinner was over, he’d followed her around the penthouse, trying to bait her into another argument.
At the time, she’d assumed it was all fodder for his blog, but perhaps it’d been his version of playground teasing. “Why’d you think he wasn’t my type?”
Lulu gave her an are you serious? look.
“Fine, you’re right. I wish you’d told me, though. I wouldn’t have been so mean to him.” And I wouldn’t have agreed to pretend to date him.
She replayed the events of the past twelve hours, except this time, she forced herself to look at them objectively, not letting her misguided shame and insecurity color anything.
Maybe he hadn’t hooked up with her out of pity.
Maybe he’d actually been excited that something was finally happening.
And then he’d woken up to find Olivia gone and an email on his phone saying that it’d all been a mistake.
What if he’d suggested the fake breakup to give her an out?
No wonder Zack had looked so disappointed when she’d told him Andrew was acting flirty. He’d been rejected by a woman he had feelings for and watched her go after someone else.
How had she been so clueless? And so cruel?
“I don’t think he thought you were being mean,” Lulu said. “He liked bantering with you. I’m glad he got his shot, even if it didn’t work out.”
By the time their food arrived, the conversation had moved on, but Olivia had trouble feigning interest in the scandal that’d roiled the New Mexico art museum where Paula worked part-time as a docent.
If she’d known about Zack’s crush on her earlier, would she have behaved differently?
Would she have risked hurting his feelings just to increase her chances with Andrew?
Would she have thought about Andrew at all?
Lulu, Karen, and Paula burst out laughing. Olivia hadn’t been paying attention well enough to understand the joke, but she smiled nonetheless, grateful that her mother was still able to laugh with such abandon.
“Ladies,” a man’s voice said. “The management received some noise complaints. I’m going to have to ask you to keep it down.” They all turned to see Bill standing by the table, watching them fondly.
“Your humor’s so cheesy, I should take Lactaid an hour before you show up,” Paula said with a smile.
Olivia knew that it’d taken Paula and Lulu’s other friends a while to accept Bill when he and Lulu had first gotten together.
He couldn’t have been more different from the talented, temperamental artists she generally dated.
But the clean-shaven, short-haired, earnest hedge fund manager had eventually won them all over with his clear love for Lulu and her daughters.
“I brought your pills.” Bill placed a small orange bottle on the table in front of Lulu.
“Thank you,” Lulu said. She tried to unscrew the cap, but her hands were suddenly shaking.
Bill opened the bottle, removed two pills, and handed them to Lulu, who took them with a sip of water.
“I can’t believe I forgot my painkillers.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Bill asked. “I would’ve brought them.”
“You had that call. I didn’t want to bother you. And I had the golf cart—I wasn’t going to ask you to walk all the way over here.” She glanced down at Bill’s feet; his loafers were completely caked in mud. “Those are ruined.”
“They’re just shoes.” Bill placed his hand on Lulu’s.
Paula leaned over to Olivia and whispered, “That’s the kind of love you want, sweetheart. That’s all that really matters.” She squeezed Olivia’s arm.
And in that moment, it wasn’t Andrew who appeared in Olivia’s mind.