Chapter 17 #2
“Possibly,” I say. “But mostly, we’re talking through some ideas for a social night at the restaurant to keep the crowd coming and growing. The menu for that will be different.”
“Finally,” Veronica says. “Our clientele is aging. Definitely do something to bring in the younger folk.” I blink at her, and she shrugs. “What? It’s true. Pastor Lionel is pushing ninety.”
She’s right, but I’m thankful not to hear any more of her opinions when Zeke starts to play a song she loves and Olivia turns to her and says, “Let’s go dance.”
If there’s something Vero can’t resist, it’s those words.
When the two of them get up to walk over toward the stage, I stay and sip on my beer, studying random things outside so that I don’t study her.
Olivia’s always been a good dancer, got that natural rhythm, a quick learner too, but age has only made her better at it.
I can almost see the countries she’s been to whenever she isolates a different part of her body.
The control she has over her hip muscles makes me envision her moving like that for me.
And I need to stop staring because I’m getting…
My phone vibrates and when I see Teddy’s name cut across the screen, I feel my pulse pick up.
It’s way past his bedtime. Why is he calling?
I answer the phone but only hear some shuffling and whining.
I call his name, again, once more. Then hang up and call him back.
He doesn’t answer. My mind races, horrible thoughts about what could be happening making my chest tight while I call Daniela.
She answers on the fifth ring. Her voice groggy from sleep.
I tell her Teddy called me and ask her to go check on him.
When she does, she tells me that he was rolled on top of his iPad because he was watching a show before sleep, and my heart steadies to a slower beat.
I tell her I’m sorry for making her get out of bed, and she tells me not to stress it.
But when we hang up, my hands are shaking a little.
Daniela is such a good mom, but when small things like this happen I briefly wish I were there to check on Teddy myself. To make sure he gets to sleep safely and wakes up the same.
When I get up to throw out the trash, Olivia walks over and asks, “You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. But I think I’m going to call it a night. Why don’t you catch a ride home with Vero?”
She reaches for my hand, says, “How about you dance with us? Just one song?” Her fingers are warm and my body relaxes and fuck, she’s pouting. “Come on, Carmello.”
“That face isn’t going to work on me,” I say, but I’m suddenly grateful she came to distract me from my bad thoughts. Sometimes they hit hard, scary images that feel so real and possible it’s like I’m drowning in them, and it takes everything in me just to breathe.
“I know you don’t like me but don’t let that get in the way of research,” she says.
I laugh. This girl is something else. “Is that what you’re going to call it?”
“What else would it be?” she says, and when she tugs me to follow, I can’t fight anymore.
And I can’t keep my eyes from watching the way her ass bounces while she walks in front of me.
At least she’s married, so I know I have to keep my hands to myself.
A little looking won’t get me into too much trouble.
“Finally,” Veronica screams over the music when we reach her.
She’s made some friends; one of them is dancing with a big turkey leg in her hand and the other looks like she’s high off shrooms. When Beyoncé’s version of “Before I Let Go” starts to play, people clap and form lines to do her rendition of the electric slide.
Vero is a pro; we lose her to the front line.
I’ve never learned this version of the slide before and this time it’s Olivia teaching me something.
This song fills the outdoor space with serotonin, and when Olivia looks over at me and smiles, I’m smiling back.
Feeling looser than I have in too long. But when the song switches, everyone rushes toward the center of the stage and she’s pushed toward me.
Somehow our middles are touching. My hands are at the small of her back.
She hooks one arm around my neck while she sways to the beat.
Her fingernails feel good against my skin. “Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” I reply, and my heart starts doing something funny with us pressed together.
I spent years fighting the feeling of missing her, but when her eyes flick to my mouth, I want to slide my hands down to where I know she’s so fucking soft and tug her closer. Instead, I back away and say, “I need some air.”
“We’re outside,” she tells me with a frown on her face.
“I know,” I say, before reaching out to raise her chin, gripping her softly there, wanting to kiss that sad look off her mouth and knowing I can’t. She closes her eyes from the physical contact, and I want to tell her I feel the pull too, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Okay, Carmello,” she breathes out, then I let her go.
***
Twenty minutes later, she finds me sitting on a sidewalk up the street and drops down beside me. Our legs are touching slightly. I move over a few inches, and she sighs.
“Thought you might’ve left me here,” she says.
“Doesn’t matter how long it’s been. You know I’d never leave without telling you.”
I didn’t mean to be petty using those words, but that’s how they came out, and she winces like they stung. “Yeah. I know,” she says.
“I meant it when I said I don’t hate you,” I say, wanting to ease the moment some.
“Are you sure about that?” she says, and I shift to look at her.
“You’re so hot and cold. I never know what I’m going to get.
When we were dancing back there, you looked disgusted for a second.
Sometimes you make the same face in the kitchen, but it’s only so big in there, Carmello.
It’s not like I’m touching you on purpose. ”
“Are you sure about that, Olivia?”
She huffs out a short laugh. “You’re serious?”
“I’m far from disgusted with you,” I say.
“But we can’t ignore that time has passed.
You can’t just pick up where you left off with me.
If you’re grabbing my hand or we’re leaning into each other after a dance, I’m going to think twice about it, and so should you.
” She pulls her gaze away. I don’t take my eyes off of her.
“I know I asked for help, but while you’re here I need… ”
“Some space?” she finishes.
“At least a foot between our bodies at all times, kind of space,” I tell her, “because with you sitting so close I can smell lemon on your skin, hints of vanilla, the scent of blueberries in your curly hair.” I swallow when she turns back to me.
“Because when I moved away from you just now I had to stop myself from saying fuck it and pulling you toward me just to feel your thigh pressed into mine again. Because a lot has changed, but not everything has changed, O.”
She takes a sharp breath. A beat of silence passes between us. Then…she smiles. “Are you saying you’re still attracted to me, Rodriguez?”
I let all the air from my lungs. “Chemistry was never our problem, Jones.”
She squeezes her thighs together, and I try to concentrate on her face instead of how good they look tonight.
It’s safer than finding the sweet changes in her body, but even under just a streetlight I can see her cheeks are flushed.
And somehow that small show of affectedness is even more powerful.
If I leaned over, I could kiss each one.
“No, it never was,” she whispers.
I want to put my hand on her leg to stop it from shaking. “So, we’re in agreement?” I say. “The pull is strong, but we can’t give in to it. That’ll be messy.”
“Why would it be?”
“Why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring, Olivia?” I counter.
“Because I don’t have a husband,” she says, arching her brow. “Is that what you’ve thought this whole time?”
“Did you not get married?” I ask. Heart thrumming, remembering how I felt when Vero told me. I had put Olivia out of my mind for so long, but that whole week my chest was sore.
“I did,” she says now, “but I also got divorced.”
“Oh,” I say. Shit, I think, because dangerous thoughts come. Like how it wouldn’t be bad if I found out how her mouth tastes now that I know she’s single. I know she wants it too.
“I’m not even going to comment on you thinking I was trying to cheat with you,” she says. “But now that we have the facts clear, what are your other reasons why we’d be messy?”
I feel like I should ask why she got married and divorced so quickly, but she’s smirking with one side of her mouth, her eyes twinkling under the lights. The look teases me. It’s like she’s got a key to my body again. All she’s gotta do is beckon me closer and I’ll come.
But I need to take back control before I’m fully consumed by her.
“The physical urges are still there,” I say, “but I’ve moved on in other ways.”
She blinks a few times, and I watch the fever in her eyes break.
“Yeah, Mello,” she says, shifting her body away.
“We’re in agreement. And…” She trails off for a moment.
Then: “I’m actually going to Tokyo for a year soon, so you’re right.
We shouldn’t be messy. I have a few weeks to help with the restaurant, then I’ll leave. Okay?”
Her confession doesn’t surprise me, but still there’s a pit in my stomach all the same from the confirmation that she had already planned to leave.
I’m not sure what this means about her shares of the restaurant, but I nod and give her a small smile.
We’re on safe ground for now; we can talk about serious business when we’re back in the restaurant. “Wow. Tokyo. For work?”
She smiles a little too. “A client wants me to move with her there, and I think it’ll be good to escape for a while.”
I tell my wandering mind not to look for subtext behind her words. To focus on what she’s telling me. She’s leaving and she thinks it’ll be good for her.
“That’s really cool,” I say. “I’ve heard great things about Japan. And listen, after what I said about us, if you don’t want to help with the idea anymore, I promise it’s okay.”
“I want to,” she says quickly. “For you and Celia. But for myself too. I know you might think differently, but I really do love the restaurant. It means something to me. It always has. It’s where I realized that I want to do this chef thing forever. And I’d love to see it truly shine.”
“All right, then,” I say. “I appreciate your help. Thank you.”
“Sure,” she says, and looks down at her feet. Pushes some pebbles around on the pavement.
“What did you think about the event?” I ask to keep us from falling into silence. “Spark any ideas for Celia’s Place?”
“The event was fun,” she says, meeting my eyes. “And nothing solid yet, but it made me remember how happy people were to be around your mom. It was like she planted seeds in people’s hearts. Always so much love in the room. I think that’s what kept people coming back.”
I watch a car pass us and wonder if I’ll ever be able to replicate that feeling.
“Don’t worry, Carmello,” Olivia says. When we were young, it felt like she could read my mind, and it still does.
“Your place has some of that feeling, even without your mom being there. Because you’re like a magnet too.
” The words hit, and I have to stop myself from saying I feel the same way about her.
“Now we just need to translate it into an idea,” she continues.
“But first, I should rest this brain. I had one shot too many from Vero’s flask. ”
“All right,” I say. “Let me get you home now.”
“But Carmello? Can you go get the car?” she asks. “The pain from these heels is pretty excruciating right now, and I don’t want to hear you say anything about that.”
The memory of our very first dance tugs at my lips. “What if I said I could tell as I watched you wobble down the street toward me a few minutes ago?”
She elbows my side. Then rushes to say, “Sorry, sorry. No touching.”
“I do want us to be intentional with that, but I think throwing elbows is fine,” I say. “Your bony ones kinda hurt though.”
“I’d kiss it better,” she says, “but that’d break boundaries.”
“Yeah,” I say, but my eyes draw to her mouth. This time, she’s the one to shift away.
“Earlier, when you called me O,” she says quietly, “my heart felt…happy? It’s been so long since you’ve called me that. And I just…Do you think we can ever be friends?”
“Maybe something like that,” I say.
When she smiles the way she does, I realize I might’ve made a mistake admitting that we still have chemistry out loud. Acknowledging that something exists brings more attention to it, and I might’ve incited something that would have died out on its own.