Chapter 17
Robbie
I wake up to the smell of clean, unfamiliar sheets and—is that coffee? I must have slept like the dead because I haven’t heard Olivia make any noise in the hallway or the kitchen. I reach for the nightstand where I left my phone but something is stopping me from reaching all the way. I look down and realize I am completely tangled in the big fluffy blanket she tucked me in last night.
I hope last night really happened and that I didn’t just dream it. The way she let me in, I could tell it was hard for her, but I am so damn happy she trusted me enough to bring me into her home and tell me stories of her childhood. And the way she took care of me and brushed the hair out of my face as she was saying goodnight made my heart leap. I wanted to tell her to stay, to join me and cuddle me to sleep, but I know we’re not there yet.
Once I’m disentangled from the blanket, I reach once more for the nightstand, but instead of my phone, my hand brushes against a framed picture. I realize it’s a photo of young Olivia and a tall man with an impressive beard and mustache. He’s proudly got an arm around her narrow shoulders while she holds up a trophy that says, ‘Little Olive’. Smiling to myself, I place it back on the nightstand.
I grab my phone and look at the time. Shit, it’s eleven already. I never sleep in like this, and while I was exhausted and clearly needed the sleep, I am kicking myself for not setting an alarm. The whole point of me staying an extra day was to spend it with Olivia not sleep the day away. I quickly get up and rummage through my overnight bag for some fresh clothes and toiletries, then head out to the bathroom.
My hair is a bit messy from sleep but at least I don’t need a shower so Olivia and I can get on with our plans for the day. I find her in the kitchen scrolling on her phone, a cup of fresh coffee nearby. She looks beautiful. The light coming from the kitchen window makes her brown hair shine brighter. She’s wearing black jeans and another cable-knit sweater, this one not brown, but dark green. She even has some makeup on, which is surprising because she usually doesn’t wear any. Not during games at least.
“Good morning,” I say while slowly moving into the small kitchen.
“Hey, how did you sleep?” she says with a smile and stands up from the table.
I rub the back of my neck and admit, “Really good, but you shouldn’t have let me sleep in so late.”
“Why?”
“Because, now I have even less time to spend with you,” I say as I look at the collar of her sweater. There’s a small hole there that draws my gaze. So I take in the rest of her sweater and notice it’s seen better days. The cuffs are a bit frayed and the color is a little faded. I wonder if she keeps wearing it because she likes it or if she simply can’t afford new clothes. I knew she was being frugal, but I thought that was because eating out all the time is expensive. Now I wonder if there is more to it.
“I’d rather have you well rested than exhausted,” she says, breaking me out of my thoughts. I notice she moved to the coffee pot and is now holding out a cup for me.
“Thanks,” I take a few sips and turn towards her, each of us leaning into opposite counters. With how narrow the kitchen corridor is, I can extend one foot and tap hers with it, which I do. “So, what’s the first thing we are doing?”
“Well, I was going to take us to one of my favorite diners, but they get really busy around this time. So, I was thinking,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ears with both hands, “my grandma called me earlier and said she is making French toast casserole with bacon and eggs. So if you’d be okay meeting her, she invited us over.” She nervously peeks up at me.
A big smile takes over my face. Aw, hell. She wants me to meet her grandma? “That sounds delicious. What are we waiting for?” I say, patting my stomach.
She laughs and says, “Finish your coffee, then we’ll go.”
Forty-five minutes later we are in front of a small townhouse knocking on a bright pink door. After telling me that Sunday brunches are tradition whenever she has the day off, I insisted she stop at the nearest grocery store. My mother would kill me if I showed up to someone’s house for the first time without a gift.
So here I am, with a bouquet of flowers and a box of donuts that Olivia assured me were her grandma’s favorite. My fingers drum on the side of the donut box as we wait for her grandma to open the door. Olivia notices and looks up at me as she says, “Don’t worry, I promise she doesn’t bite.”
I groan inwardly. Great, now she knows I’m nervous. But does she know why? Does she realize that every time I look at her, my breath catches and it doesn’t release until her eyes are on me too? Does she feel this pull between us? Does she also wonder what our kisses would be like?
Before I can respond with a joke and make this moment more lighthearted, the door swings wide open and there’s a petite woman with white hair and a bright pink apron with donuts on it that greets us.
“Oliviaaaa,” she says brightly and squeezes her granddaughter in a bone crushing hug. She then peeks up at me over Olivia’s shoulder and gives me a mischievous look. Once they break apart, Olivia moves to my side and touches my arm, the one holding the box of donuts and says, “Grams, this is Robbie.”
My mouth is dry and I swear I am sweating, but I manage to clear my throat and stick out the arm with the bouquet of flowers. “For you, Miss Elizabeth,” I say and give her one of my brightest, more sincere smiles. But my whole body is tense, because holy shit. This is Olivia’s only living family, and here I am being introduced to her. What if she hates me?
Elizabeth, AKA Grams, as Olivia calls her, has both hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed at me. She doesn’t take the flowers and doesn’t say anything, so I nervously look at Olivia with a look of oh shit, what did I do wrong and dear God please help me out of it. Olivia’s eyes widen and she gives me a small shrug all but saying, I don’t know either.
But then, Grams starts laughing. Uncontrollably. And there are tears in her eyes as she wheezes, “I’m just messing with you, honey.”
We both laugh along, but I’m still a little worried. My shoulders relax more when she takes the flowers from my hands and pats my chest affectionately. “Olivia said you like to joke around so I wanted to see what you’re all about.”
“Did I pass the test?” I say.
“We’ll see,” she hums as she turns and leads us inside. The townhouse is just as bright on the inside as it is on the outside. Grams must be a huge fan of the color pink, because it’s everywhere. The walls are pink, the flowers on the entry table are also a dark shade of pink, and even the fridge is a pastel pink.
“These are for you as well,” I say and place the donuts on the kitchen island.
She saunters over and opens the box and her eyes light up again when she realizes they’re her favorite donuts. “Mmm, yes. Definitely passed the test now,” she says and reaches for a sprinkle donut and takes a big bite of it.
“Grams, can you please not start with the dessert?” Olivia chides her and Grams rolls her eyes.
She elbows me in the side to grab my attention and says, “Will you get my granddaughter to stop being such a hardass? I swear sometimes she doesn’t know how to have fun.”
Olivia doesn’t hear this as she takes it upon herself to look through cupboards and pull out plates and silverware to set the table. I keep my eyes on her the whole time but tell Grams, “I don’t think she’s a hardass. I think she’s perseverant, and smart, and I think she knows how to have fun with the people that matter to her.”
When I don’t get a reply, I look down at the adorable old lady, with chocolate and sprinkles on her face. I try my best to smother a smile at her appearance, but she takes me by surprise as she says, “Take care of her, will you? Lord knows she’s been through so much, and not many people have cared for her like they should have.”
My heart constricts and for a moment I am angry again, because how could anyone not love her like she deserves to be loved? Fiercely and unconditionally.
I swallow down and say, “I will, I promise.” She searches my face for a moment, then nods and springs away to check on the casserole.
I feel Olivia coming up behind me and I give her a smile, telling her I’m doing great so she doesn’t worry. I help Grams with the bacon and eggs and the three of us have brunch together. Grams of course pulled out orange juice and champagne to make mimosas. While Olivia stopped after one since she’s driving, Grams and I are now on our third.
She’s been telling lots of stories of Olivia as a kid and I’ve been absorbing it all with rapt interest. “Would you like to see some baby pictures?” Grams says excitedly.
“Grams, noo,” Olivia groans as I say, “I am not leaving here until I do.”
“Robbie, why?” she says as Grams heads to another room to look for the album.
“I need to see them, Olive. It’s a must,” I say, leaning into her a bit. When I look at her face, I realize she’s not smiling. She seems detached. “Hey, where’d you go just now?”
She looks at me and blinks away some tears. Shit. What did I say? “Sorry, nothing. Nowhere, I’m good.”
She’s not good. My hand touches her right knee to stall her bouncing and this time I ask more gently. “Did I say something wrong? Is it the pictures? We don’t have to look at them if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s not that,” she says softly, “It's just—my dad was the only one to call me Olive. I don’t really like nicknames, but I loved it when he called me that.” Her shoulders slump and this time a tear escapes her and rolls down her cheek. Before I can second guess myself, I cup her face and wipe her tear away, then give her a bear hug. She sighs in the crook of my neck and I hug her even tighter.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I won’t do it again,” I say.
She shrugs in my arms and bunches my sweater in her fists. “I didn’t hate it, I was just caught by surprise. You can call me that, if you want.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you cry any more than I have,” I say with a smile.
She chuckles lightly, “I’m sure. But this just means I get to come up with a nickname for you.”
I groan. “Oh, please no. I’ve had so many over the years and they are all terrible.”
“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it,” she says pausing for effect, “Bob.”
“Ugh, no.”
“Bobby?”
“No.”
“Rob?”
“Gross. No,” I say, giving her a mock glare.
“I know the perfect one,” she says and pulls out of my arms.
I narrow my eyes at her, “What is it?”
Her eyes are glinting as she says, “Bobbert.”
I choke on a laugh and shake my head, “We can’t be friends anymore.”
After half an hour of looking through so many adorable pictures of Olivia, she finally manages to get Grams to put them away.
“I wanted to see more though,” I say with a pout, reluctantly letting go of an adorable picture of her in hockey gear. She must have been around fourteen and she was standing next to her dad after one of her games.
“That’s okay, I think you’ve seen enough,” she huffs, but gives me a small smile. She takes the picture and looks down at it mournfully. “I miss him,” she admits softly.
I nod and slide my hand from the back of her chair to her shoulder blades where I rub soothing circles. I don’t know what to say to make her feel better. I’ve never had to deal with this kind of grief.
Grams gathers up the album and some of the wayward pictures that are strewn all over the table and puts them away. When she comes back, we are getting ready to leave.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Elizabeth,” I say, taking her hand and bending down to kiss it. The old lady blushes and grabs my shoulders for a swift hug.
“If you so much as hurt her, I will hunt you down all the way to Michigan and make you pay,” she whispers in my ear then gives me a pat on the back and lets me go.
Noted.
“I would expect nothing less,” I reply, meaning it, too. The lady may look small and frail, but she’s got quite the grip.
She winks at me as she gives Olivia a hug and we head to the car.
“What was that all about?” Olivia asks once we’re in her car.
I laugh and shake my head. “Nothing. Your Grams is a sweetheart.” I smirk to myself.
She nods along and pulls out of the driveway. “You ready for some mini golf?”
I apparently suck at mini golf. Olivia absolutely destroyed me and has been soaking in the victory for the whole drive to the arena.
“Okay, alright. I admit, you are better at mini golf than I am. Happy now?” I groan.
“Yes, thank you, Bobbert,” she says playfully and I roll my eyes. She has not stopped calling me that stupid nickname since brunch.
Once we arrive, I notice that the arena is much smaller than the venues we play our professional games at. There is only one rink and one of the logos outside shows the name of a high school hockey team.
I offer to carry Olivia’s bag and stick but she just gives me a glare telling me to mind my own business. Okay, point taken. As she was packing it earlier in the morning, I noticed how frayed and outdated her gear was. I think I even saw some holes in her gloves. I wanted to ask her more about her financial situation, but didn’t want to make things weird.
We see a few other people heading inside and one of them is a guy with dark hair and an obnoxiously loud voice. He glances over at us and snickers “Look who decided she’s good enough to grace us with her presence all of a sudden.”
I can see Olivia tense next to me but she doesn’t respond. She mentioned she missed a few league games, but this guy doesn’t need to be a dick about it. I must not be the only one thinking that because the blonde girl next to him jabs him in the ribs and says, “Don’t be a dick, Mark. Glad you could make it today, Liv.”
My eyebrows go up and I look over at Olivia and mouth Liv? She rolls her eyes and addresses the blonde, “Hey Amelia, thanks. And—“ she falters for a moment but after noticing me looking at her she straightens up and continues, “I actually don’t like nicknames. I’d prefer it if you just called me Olivia.”
The blonde, Amelia, is shocked for just a moment, then she gives Olivia a big smile and says, “Sure thing. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Robbie. He’s my biggest fan, and he’s here to watch me play,” she jokes. She’s not wrong though. I am so gone for this girl, I would watch her do even the most trivial tasks, as long as I get to be near her.
I’ve realized this weekend that she doesn’t have a lot of people in her life, and the fact that she’s let me in makes my heart happy. I want to support her in every way, help her overcome her fears, and make her see that I’m smitten with her.
Mark’s comment brings me out of my thoughts as he says, “What, you’re not good enough to play?”
I turn my head toward him and slowly look him up and down. He’s pretty skinny to be a hockey player and he’s about four inches shorter than me. I take my time replying and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Olivia suppressing a smile. “Unfortunately, I didn’t come prepared, but I’ll make sure to bring my gear next time,” I say with a wink at him.
“Alright, we better head in before we’re late,” Amelia says.
As we head inside, Olivia falls back to walk by my side, so I take a moment to ask what’s on my mind “Everything okay? There seemed to be some tension with that Mark guy.”
She sighs and quietly says “He’s been kind of an asshole the last few times I’ve seen him. I guess he can’t handle a woman saying no to him.” Her face is set in a frown and I hate seeing it there after all the happy, smiling moments we had today. So I reach out with both my hands and poke her cheeks up in a smile. Her eyebrows go up as she looks at me but there’s a glimmer in her eyes.
“Do me a favor and kick his ass on the ice, yeah?”
“It’s a no-checking kind of league, and he’s usually on my team,” she says dejectedly.
“Switch with someone else. You have a reversible jersey, right?”
“I do. I guess that could be arranged,” she lets out a slow smile that makes my breath hitch.
“I’ll be out there cheering. Your number one fan, remember?” I smile back.
As I wait for the game to start, I grab some popcorn and a fountain drink from the small concession stand and find a good spot on the metal benches that overlook the rink.
I wave and take pictures as Olivia gets on the ice and skates to my end of the glass. I notice she’s playing on white while Mark is on the black team; I smile and give her a thumbs up.
While she says she’s out of practice, it’s easy to see that she’s by far the best skater here. While her puck control could use a bit of improvement, she manages to steal the puck away from Mark and score within the first shift. My girl is determined.
My girl.
When did I start thinking of her as mine?
I close my eyes and let my head drop between my shoulders. I am hopeless. I think I might be in love. And the worst part is, I don’t know if she would even want me. While she may accept me as a friend, would she want me as more? What would our relationship even look like? Both of our lives are so hectic.
An hour goes by as I am lost in my own thoughts. I watch Olivia every time she takes on a shift and make sure to stand up and cheer every time she makes an assist or a goal, which is often. Meanwhile, I keep thinking of ways to see her again, and I come up with a plan.
By the time she is showered and changed, I am waiting in the lobby, scrolling through all the pictures I have of her in my phone. There is a perfect one of her skating at the ribbon in Chicago. The skyscrapers are lit up behind her and there are twinkle lights above her as she’s mid-turn. Her movement looks graceful but a bit blurry, but the look on her face is my favorite part. It’s pure happiness. Her green eyes are bright, her hair is let down and falling softly around her face. And her smile is wide and perfect.
I’m so fucked.