We let the weight of my words settle between us like an anchor sinking to the bottom of the sea, understanding there were so many meanings to them.
Olivia’s chest shuddered as she let out a quiet sob. She quickly covered her face with her hands as I held her tighter to my chest. “Hey,” I crooned, nuzzling her neck. “Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry.” When she didn’t stop, my own voice broke. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It’s not you,” she whispered. “I just hate that I’ve gotten us into this mess and have no way of getting us out. No matter what decision I make, I’m going to hurt someone.”
I didn’t speak for a moment, giving her the space to feel the grief and rage of our situation. “You could stay,” I offered quietly.
“I can’t?—”
“Give me a good reason why you can’t.”
Olivia turned toward me. The grief-stricken expression on her face was nearly my undoing. “Because of my job. I have an obligation to my family to carry on the legacy at Hartstrings. It’s got our family name, for Christ's sake.” She laughed, but it was laced with resentment. “And Lukas has said time and time again he has no interest in taking over, so that leaves me to be the one to carry the brunt of the work. I have no one to tag me out of this mess, and so I have to see it through.”
“Even though you’re miserable?”
“I’m not?—”
Olivia tried to pull away, but I cupped her face and forced her to stare at me. “Honey, look at you. Don’t even try to deny it. The thought of going back to a career where you’re overworked and underappreciated is killing you. And the fucked up truth is that John died before he could understand the toll it’s taken on you.”
I watched the fight leave her eyes as she crumbled into my arms.
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Olivia. But I want you to know that you have your family’s support. You have my support.”
I pulled her into my chest, surprised she was even willing to go. We laid like that until the water was cold and the wine was gone. Neither of us spoke. At this point, words would only cause more harm than good.
Standing up, I helped her out of the tub. She reached for the towel, but I shook my head. “Let me do this.”
She didn’t argue, letting me run the soft fabric over her skin until she was dry. And then I picked her up, carrying her bridal style to the bed. She slipped wordlessly under the sheets, watching me as I followed in after.
Olivia reached out, carefully tracing the lines of my face. Whether it was to commit to memory or just in reverence, I didn’t care. As she reached my lips, I kissed the pad of each finger before reaching for her other hand to do the same.
“Will you hold me?” she asked, looking up at me through thick black lashes.
“Always.”
I opened my arms in response, welcoming her. It was amazing how perfectly her body fit against mine. Like we were two halves of a whole. Meant to be. Written in the stars. All the lovey-dovey bullshit I hadn’t believed in in years.
We fell asleep like that: safe, warm, and content.
And when she woke me up in the middle of the night, kissing my neck and stroking me to life, I welcomed that, too. Returning her soft touches with ones of my own. We murmured things we shouldn’t have. The gently whispered, “I’m yours,” echoed on each other’s lips, signaling something bigger than either of us had anticipated when we ran into one another at the grocery store. I claimed her body as much as I claimed her heart, and she’d done the same to me.
It wasn’t just sex this time. No, this was different.
It was a promise. A commitment to love and cherish not only the other’s mind, but body as well. It was two souls coming together, binding themselves to one another in a way that time, distance, and obligation could never break apart.
It was also, unfortunately, a lie.
OLIVIA
The next weekpassed by in a blur of sex and denial.
When Duke and I weren’t sneaking around, desperate to spend every possible free moment with one another, I was fielding calls and emails from the Hartstrings board.
They all asked the same question: to know whether someone was going to inherit control or whether John’s stocks were up for sale. And each time I answered, I told them the same thing.
I didn’t know.
After day two, I was tired of repeating myself, so I asked Darcy to make up some bullshit excuse about not taking calls until the reading of the will next week.