“See, there it is again: deflection. If you aren’t physically running, you’re emotionally running.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil.”
“You’re doing it again! Stop it!”
“Stop comparing us to animated characters!”
“That was a bad example, sorry. But I’m only trying to make a point, and that is that we never really talk about anything because you’re always avoiding it.”
Olivia heaved a breath and held her forehead in her hand. She did, indeed, regret starting this conversation now, but since they were in it, they might as well continue. “Fine. You want to talk? Let’s talk. As you’ve pointed out, there’s nowhere to run.”
A small, victorious, but hesitant smile twitched Chuck’s mouth. “Great, let’s talk.”
“Let’s.”
They stared at each other, a million topics swimming like hungry sharks between them, and neither of them sure where to begin.
“Why’d we break up?” Chuck said.
Olivia sputtered much like he had done when she’d laid downno sexas their first rule that night in the diner. “That’swhere you want to start?”
“The end seems like a good beginning.”
“Now who’s getting philosophical?”
“Olivia! See, this is what I’m talking about! You’re so predictable that we could turn this into a drinking game:Take a drink every time Olivia avoids an emotional confrontation.I’ll have to call Tyler for a case of wine and then have my stomach pumped before I succumb to alcohol poisoning.”
“Okay, drama queen. Calm down.”
“You know what, forget it. I’m trying to have a conversation with you, and you’re obviously not taking it seriously. I’m just going to do the dishes and go to bed.” He stood from his stool, sending it scraping against the tile, and rounded the island.
Olivia watched his back as he started in at the sink. The urge to micromanage his dishwashing hit her like a sack of rocks, but she was too distracted by her body unpleasantly tingling all over. She didn’t like being called out, especially on a topic that made her want to run faster and farther than any other. Whether it was conscious or not, she didn’t finish fights because finishing would mean reaching an inevitable end point, and an end point might result in her being left alone. Abandoned. So it was better to run away before it ever got there. Do the leaving before anyone could leave her.
But she realized as she watched him squirt a trulyinappropriate amount of soap into the filling sink, enough to surely result in a sudsy mess, that she hadn’t been the only one to run that day they broke up. He’d called it quits too. The irrefutable proof was immortalized on the internet.
She stood from her stool and raised her voice to speak over the sound of the gushing sink. “You walked away that day too, Chuck.”
He paused with the dishes and gripped the sink’s edge. He didn’t fully turn around but swiveled his head so that she could see his profile. His jaw was tight when he spoke in a resigned tone. “Only because you gave me no choice, Olivia.”
The words walloped her right in the chest and left her feeling winded. She backed away before he could say anything else that would cut her off at the knees and scurried down the hall to the bedroom.
Now that they had a couch, she intended to give him the bed because she still felt bad about his back and wanted him to get a good night’s rest. She brushed her teeth and removed her makeup, all while avoiding her reflection because she didn’t want to see the truth of what he’d said staring back at her, and changed into pajamas.
He was still doing dishes by the time she returned to the living room to build a nest on the couch. He found her there watchingFinding Nemowhen he finished. He paused by the archway leading back into the entryway.
“So, I take it you’re sleeping out here tonight?” A tinge of hope lingered in his voice. Perhaps he thought they might continue their conversation.
“Yep. Good night, Pepé.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head with a sigh. “Good night.” Then he flipped off the light and left her alone.
Chapter
9
Olivia woke the next morningagain confused about where she was. Less so because she was on a strange couch in a strange living room and more so because of the music blaring like she’d fallen asleep backstage at a show.
She sat up, and half her blanket nest fell to the floor. A slight ache pulsed in her temples thanks to the wine. She hadn’t pulled the curtains the night before because she felt no need behind a privacy gate; there was no one to see inside. And they were on camera anyway, so the thought of hiding was moot. A hazy beam of light cut through the leafy trees outside the front window and spilled into the room. By the weak color of it, she knew the sun was hardly up.