“This is everything.” She cuddles closer, deeper. “But it’s not enough.”
“It will have to be.”
This time, she doesn’t argue.
After a few minutes, I break the silence. “Olivia, after tonight, when we say goodbye tomorrow, I can’t...” I halt, because what I have to say seems so wrong, but I need to be upfront. I’m hiding so much else. I can’t lead her on.
She puts a finger to my mouth. Her eyes are somber. “Shh. I know, Chase. You’ve already made it more than clear. I’m a big girl. I don’t expect you to call me. You’ve been honest. Brutally so,” she says with a small laugh. “Despite my inexperience, I know how these things work.”
The hell of it is, she is wrong, so damn wrong. She doesn’t have a clue how I feel. How hard it will be to give her up in the morning.
I close my eyes, memorizing her every contour, her every breath. “Good night.”
“G’night,” she breathes.
And it has been. Despite it all, I relax completely with her in my arms, her weight a soft anchor against me. I close my eyes and know a sleep that’s better, deeper, warmer, softer than I’ve ever had waits for me. Because it’s with her.
When I wake the next morning, it’s with Olivia in my arms and a deep comfort in my heart.
The wanting hasn’t left in the night.
Olivia shifts. The soft early light falls over her face and curves like a caress. She rubs her curvy ass against me, and I’m not able to keep from shifting back into her. She lets out a breathy moan, but when I look down, she’s still asleep with a blissful smile. I kiss the top of her head so as not to wake her.
I’d never been one for cuddling before.
On the rare occasions a woman stays in my bed all night, I’m up and out first thing, not wanting to give her false hope that anything will come of the night. I should do the same now.
Instead, I lie there, watching her, spending these precious last few minutes memorizing her arched brows, her black-as-night hair. The curve of her cheek, the gentle jut of her chin. And down lower, to the gorgeous tits I’d trade my fortune to see again.
I want to cancel my flight and make love to her all day, but she deserves a boyfriend who can give her the regular, peaceful life she wants. Who can take her to the movies without having to sign autographs in line for popcorn, go out for dinner without drawing a crowd, walk down the street hand in hand without being chased by the paparazzi.
Just a few more minutes, and I’ll say goodbye in real life. Hopefully, she’ll once again allow me back into her life as her long-distance friend Remington. Because the best thing I can do for her is to not get too close. And I care about her enough to do just that.
CHAPTER 20
Olivia
I was right.
Chase James is a bitch to get over.
It’s been two weeks since our magical weekend, and every moment is on repeat in my head, including our final goodbye when he left me to go back to his celebrity life.
But this can’t be real heartbreak. We haven’t known each other long enough.
The cynical side of me knows I was just another night in a long line of hookups as he jetted away.
At least I hadn’t gone into whatever we were with stars in my eyes and hope in my heart that I was somehow special. I’m not Cinderella. He’s not my Hollywood Prince Charming. He’s the star. I’m the ordinary girl.
I only wish I had someone to process this all with, to break it down. But I can’t exactly share my maybe kinda sorta heartbreak with Daisy. Chase is her brother. That would be weird.
And I miss Remington. So much.
I visited the shop where my phone was being fixed, and the supposed tech whiz said that he was waiting on a part, so it would be at least a week or more before he could recover my data. Every time I look at the fancy new phone that I’m still borrowing from Daisy, I ache to message Remington and I curse myself for not memorizing his number. But it will only be another week. And the truth is, I’m still embarrassed about the message and selfie I sent. Maybe a little space in our friendship is a good thing.
Besides, I’m not sure if I would have told him about Chase, even if I could. It would sound unbelievable. Remington might think I was making it all up just because he rejected me. That would be mortifying.
But I miss Remington’s ability to make me laugh. I need it more than ever. Last night when I popped into the deli for broken-heart-therapy fudge brownie ice cream, Chase was all over the tabloid display at the checkout. He’s shooting a new movie with Cassidy Reynolds in some far-off destination. Why are they always doing movies together? Are Hollywood directors playing matchmaker?
Intellectually, I know the weekend we shared is all we’ll ever have. But late at night, when I can’t sleep, I sometimes have this unreasonable fantasy that he’ll call. Just to check on me. Or maybe to declare his eternal love. Whatever.
I should be glad for the tabloids. It’s proof of just how unobtainable he truly is and how our lives couldn’t be further apart.
Because, while he’s frolicking in foreign locales with his maybe-ex, possible-girlfriend, I’m writing and working at the bookshop shilling coffee, restocking books, and eating delicious cinnamon buns—which is a fabulous comfort food for the lovelorn, by the way.
I’m also moving forward with my life by continuing to take a risk a day.
Today, Daisy is helping me over my fear of heights by taking me skydiving.
Sort of.
“Thank you for not forcing me to jump out of an airplane,” I say when we get to the indoor skydiving venue.
Daisy grins. “I figured this would be risky enough for you. Baby steps. But maybe, after this experience, you’ll work up to the real thing.”
I look at the people floating around the air tunnel dubiously. I doubt this will ignite a new hobby. But floating around in a somewhat controlled environment is much better than dropping from ten thousand feet, so I’ll take it.
“You’re up.” Daisy nudges me.
My hands get clammy and I freeze. “I was wrong. I’m scared of heights. I’ll puke in the tunnel, and it’ll get all over me. Or the wind won’t be strong enough to pick me up,” I say, quick and shrill. A hundred humiliating ideas of what could happen bombard my mind.
“Or you could do it, and it could be fun.” She hugs me quick. “Now, go, before I kick your ass.”
I know Daisy won’t let me get away with backing out, so I make the cross symbol even though I haven’t been to church in forever. And on shaky limbs, I force myself to walk to the tunnel.
The instructor is already in it, waiting for me. Earlier, I was briefed on hand signals and what to expect, but I could never have imagined the force of the air. Its strength steals my breath and pushes me up. All my senses are on overload as I attempt to recall the instructions on how to control my direction.
Floating madly, I lift my head against the pressure and look through the glass wall at Daisy, who’s already chatting up the guy behind her in line. Only Daisy could get hit on while wearing an orange jumpsuit and large plastic goggles. She catches my eye, grins madly, and gives me two thumbs-up as I try not to take out the instructor with my flailing arms.
The instructor points up. My eyes bug out as the wind whips around me. I want to shake my head, but I force myself to take both his hands as he spins us around, and then there we are, spinning up, up, up to the top of the wind tunnel before he sends us plummeting back down to the bottom on a circle of death. It’s scary, exhilarating, disorienting, and over too soon.
When I step out of the clear dome on unsteady legs, all I can do is laugh in sheer joy.
“You did it!” Daisy cries, taking my hands and bouncing up and down while I try to steady my heartbeat.
“I did it!” I can’t wipe the grin off my face. I faced my fear of heights and won. I skydived—sort of. And it was fun.
“And?” she asks with a tilt of her head.