Chapter 30
JOHN
There’s a Tiffany & Co. store half an hour from the Montgomerys’ house, but it turns out you have to make an appointment first when you want a two-carat, emerald-cut diamond for a pavé-diamond platinum band, and they didn’t have one readily available.
That’s what happens when you don’t research and plan for things.
Or when I don’t call Iris to handle something for me.
So I had to make do with what’s called an eternity ring.
I bought the most expensive one in the store, and I will take Olivia ring shopping when we’re back in San Francisco. Before we go to Santa Barbara.
But this will do.
I have everything else worked out, so this ring will do for now.
Mr. Montgomery’s car isn’t in the driveway when I pull up in the rental car.
I can see the window of Olivia’s old bedroom as I emerge from the car.
The curtains are still open, and I don’t see her in there.
It’s not unusual, but I’m getting that feeling again.
Nerves. And a tickle at the back of my throat.
Definitely allergies. The good news is I’m not allergic to dogs.
It’s merely an immune response to environmental allergens that I haven’t been exposed to in over a year.
My body’s histamine reaction is perfectly understandable, given the change in air quality, pollen levels, and mold spores specific to this region.
I know the Montgomerys don’t lock their front door when they’re at home, but I ring the doorbell anyway and knock three times.
Like I always have. They only hear the doorbell if they’re upstairs, and if someone knocks too loudly or quickly, it startles Mrs. Montgomery.
Three knocks—not too fast, not too slow.
I don’t hear barking. Maybe they’re not home.
I check my phone again. There’s nothing from Olivia.
I keep my hand in my pocket and try to look like a guy who doesn’t have a small box with a twenty-four-thousand-dollar ring in there.
The door opens, and Mrs. Montgomery looks up at me, cheery and welcoming, as always. “Oh, Johnny. We should have made a copy of the house key for you.”
The tip of my nose feels tingly. Definitely allergies. Normal physiological response. “That’s kind of you.”
“Come on in. It’s just me here—Alan took Bob to the dog park because he had a lot of energy to burn. The puppy, not Alan.”
When I enter the foyer, I feel dread in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I have food poisoning.
“Olivia’s not back from the gym yet?” I ask at the same time Olivia’s mom asks, “Can I get you some coffee, dear?” as she heads toward the kitchen.
She stops in the hallway and turns around, looking surprised and concerned. “What? She left for the airport an hour ago. She said you’d know why.”
I check my phone again to see if I missed any texts or calls from Olivia this morning. But no. Nothing.
“Maybe she forgot to hit Send on the text message?” Mrs. Montgomery offers. “I do that all the time. She said there’s a company class tomorrow morning, and she can’t miss it.”
For once, I don’t have a thousand ideas and questions flooding my brain—I only have one.
“Is everything all right?” she calls out as I run up the stairs.
That is the question.
I find my briefcase on the floor by the bed.
The leather handle has been gnawed on, and some of the contents spilled out onto the carpet.
On top of the bed is my notebook, with chewed-up pages.
And my laptop. Closed. With a note on top of it.
The same notepaper Olivia used for the note she left me this morning. It says:
You left your laptop open. Bob stepped on it. I saw what you were working on. I’m taking the first flight back to SFO so I don’t miss tomorrow’s company class. xx
That note is…somewhat innocuous. I think.
Based on the note, the probability of Olivia returning to San Francisco without me because she’s angry is low.
Since I have no other data to disprove my theory that things are fine between us, I will not panic.
I have no reason to. Unless she misunderstood my incomplete pitch deck.
As she certainly could when viewed out of context.
I call her cell phone, expecting to leave a voice message, but she answers after one ring. “Hi, John.”
“Hi. Where are you?”
“I’m about to go through security. My flight leaves in an hour.” Her voice sounds shaky. Not angry. Like she’s been crying.
“I’d like to explain the pitch deck I was working on.”
She exhales a sad little laugh. “The core problems and the solutions?”
“It’s unfinished. It’s only one part of the presentation I was planning for my proposal.”
There’s a lot of noise in the background.
I hear Olivia apologize to someone and then sigh into the phone.
“John…I lied to you last night. I think I would choose you over my career. I mean, if it ever came down to that. And I know that because of how I feel. About you. You’ve known me my entire life.
You’ve seen me literally naked and folded in half beneath you while you were inside me.
And you still needed to make a decision tree to figure out if I’m worth investing your time in? ”
“Olivia… First of all, I told you I would never ask you to choose me over your career. And secondly, I know you’re worth investing my time in.
I was building a logical case for why we should be together—now and forever—based on data.
Nobody benefits if I let my feelings cloud my judgment.
I’m successful in life because I analyze everything. ”
“You’re successful in business because you analyze everything,” she says. “You assigned numerical values to your feelings about me. Do you not see how messed up that is?”
“Did you not recognize the infinity symbol? That means it’s limitless. My feelings for you are boundless.”
“I know what infinity means. I also know that if you’re so stressed out about us getting closer that you need to make graphs and pie charts, then things have been moving way too fast, and I don’t think either one of us knows how we really feel or what’s real or what we want.”
“I know what I want,” I say. “I’ve spent years wanting you.
Two years knowing I want to marry you. Things fell into place.
A plan came together. After just over a week of having you, I’m so fucking terrified of losing you that I needed to see it expressed in numbers.
And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
” I should probably shut up and quit while I’m ahead, but I add, “I haven’t analyzed the new data yet, but I’m pretty sure you’re scared too, because you’re the one who’s running. ”
“I’m not saying I’m not scared. And I’m not running away. I’m just… We need a little time apart.”
“Please just…wait for me at the airport,” I say. “We’ll go home together.”
“What do you mean, things fell into place? What plan?”
I have an unplanned sneezing fit because my entire immune system is rejecting this situation.
This is definitely not going according to plan.
I need to pull it together so she understands how rational I’m being.
“What I’m trying to tell you is—I’ve known that I want to marry you for a long time.
This arrangement I came up with for the month was just the quickest means to the end that I knew would be best for both of us. ”
“What are you talking about? The thing about you needing a fake girlfriend for these events… Are you saying the ruse was just a ruse?” she asks.
“I’m saying it was the shortest distance between two points.
” How does she not see this?! “Let me explain it in plain English—every planet in the universe follows the shortest path, using the least amount of energy. This is no different. This was the most effective and efficient way that I could think of to get you to spend time with me, get us back on the same path, with the end result of us being a married couple,” I tell her.
“When I found out Merrick’s granddaughter wanted to be a ballerina right after Monty asked me to check up on you, it was like the entire universe was flashing a neon sign. ”
“What did the sign say? ‘Draw up a contract for a fake fake relationship with Olivia’?”
“That’s one way of putting it. Actually, when you put it that way, it sounds stupid.” I sigh. “It is not stupid. This was the most efficient, optimized way to a real relationship. I came up with an elegant solution to a problem, and it solved a lot of your problems too, I might add.”
She doesn’t say anything. Because she knows I’m right.
I hear her breathing. I hear the airport noises in the background and my heart pounding in my chest. I pull the ring box out of my pocket and realize my hands are shaking.
I need to get grounded. I need to prove to Olivia that I have this under control.
Finally, she sighs and says, “I’m not a math problem that needs to be solved, John.”
“If you were a math problem, I would have figured you out a long time ago.”
After another long pause, she sniffles and says, “I have to go. I’m not mad.
I’m really confused. I think you are too.
I’ve never had a real boyfriend before, and most of the men I’ve spent time with in my life—aside from my dad and brother and you—wear tights, so I’m no expert on romantic relationships.
Unless they’re between men who are dukes or princes and women who are peasants or swans.
But I know for a fact that a pitch-deck presentation is not the kind of proposal I want from someone claiming to want to spend the rest of his life with me.
” She pauses. “I love you, Johnny. I really do. But I think we need a little time apart so we can clear our heads, okay? Bye.”
“I love you too.” Silence. “Olivia?”
She hung up.
She said I love you and then hung up.
Why would she do that?
I toss my phone onto the bed and put the ring box into my chewed-up leather briefcase.
This is not optimal.