Fleetwood Mac blares through the fancy surround-sound system of my boss’s even fancier ranch-style home.
“Oh, God. There’s Jessica and that guy I was telling you about. You know the one who was supposedly dating Nancy O’Shea’s mom the other week? Fuck me, some people in this town are downright disgusting sometimes. Swapping fuck buddies like Pokémon cards.”
I spot Jessica over in the corner of the downstairs formal living area talking to said guy, who’s probably ten years her senior. A silver fox in the making, if that gray hair mixed with the striking black is any indicator. Also, a bit of a cougar hunter if what Millie says is true—being that Nancy’s mom is probably around twenty years older than Jessica—but you never know with the gossip that circulates this town. Something I don’t care to partake in very often, but I’ll admit I keep my ears open to remain up to date with the friendly, or not so friendly, goings-on of the residents in Ivy Falls. Whatever.
As we weave through the crowds of people milling around, looking for our hosts, I can’t help but wonder if Zeke might make an appearance. Then I remember he’d know I’d obviously be here. So that’d be a no then. I hold in the frustrated sigh. Just. I seriously need to face facts. He’s made himself very fucking clear. Too bad my heart is holding out for some kind of miracle while my brain keeps telling it to move the heck on.
“Oh, look! There.” Millie points in the direction of the side patio where Wilma and Ken can be seen talking among some guests. We make our way over, dodging some guests that have already been hitting the drink a little too hard. Judging by the boisterous laughter, the sound of glass hitting the expensive wood floor, and a few callings of “Taxi!” I instinctively move my hands toward my stomach, even if the bump isn’t noticeable to anyone but myself.
“Girls!” Wilma bellows before enfolding us both in a hug. The smell of the red wine perched precariously in her manicured fingertips invades my nostrils. I swear I read something about pregnancy and a sensitive sense of smell. Huh. That would explain why I haven’t been able to stomach wearing my favorite Marc Jacobs perfume these past few weeks. “Ken!” Wilma smacks him in the stomach with her free hand, causing him to turn our way and a huge smile to light up his face.
“Hello, hello!” he all but shouts before hugging us both as well. Millie and I congratulate them on their anniversary, which has them both laughing as if we’ve said something outrageously funny. Millie smirks at me, which I return.
“Honestly, it’s more of a competition at this point. We’re already taking bets and talking about how much better our lives will be once the other either admits defeat or kicks the bucket.” Wilma shrugs. Her husband nods in complete agreement. As if what just came out her mouth is a completely normal discussion for a married couple celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary. Millie loses it and doubles over laughing. I just smile, more immune to the odd couple I work with on a daily basis than she is.
“You two are too much. Oh, Lord.” She gasps before wiping tears from under her eyes. “I think I need a drink. Coming with, Liv?” I nod, and we part ways with Wilma, who informs me the nonalcoholic beverages are in the kitchen. I leave Millie at the open bar setup downstairs and go in search of something I can trust has no alcohol. I wind my way back through the crowd, pausing to say hello to a couple of people.
I quickly ditch them under the guise of finding Millie as soon as it looks like Zeke will be brought up. I round the hallway that leads to a back corner of the house where the kitchen is located, if my memory isn’t failing me. Which wouldn’t surprise me these days with my hormones and all. And yep, I’m lost. No kitchen in sight. I’m about to turn around when I overhear something from a nearby room that has me stopping in my tracks and leaning back against the wall. Not just to keep out of sight—although there’s that—but because of the blow unknowingly being thrown my way.
“Thought you’d be all butt-hurt over Zeke taking that job and skipping town?”
Someone scoffs before replying, “Hurt? Come on, Misty. We all know he’s only left to get away from her and whatever she’s done to him. I couldn’t give two shits. As long as it gets her out of his system once and for all.”
Kiera. Of fucking course. More like she’s been butt-hurt ever since Zeke dumped her skank ass at the end of our junior year.
I hear various hums, in what I’m guessing is agreement.
God, really? I roll my eyes.
“I wonder what the hell she did to have him scampering off like a bat out of hell. Beau said he took off back in June,” Simone, another of Keira’s minions, whisper-hisses.
“Oh, my Gods” and “No ways” are exchanged before I decide I’ve heard enough. With my heart pounding scarily fast in my chest, I locate the closest bathroom and lock myself inside. Leaning my back against the door, I try to control my choppy breathing. June? That would mean he left right after I went to Beau’s apartment.
No.
When he dropped the key off and got his stuff from my place.
Holy shit. He’s actually left town.
Okay, deep breaths. I can deal with this. I have no choice really. Besides, here or not here, it’s not like he hasn’t made his intentions perfectly clear. But still, moving away? Taking a job out of town? Where exactly? Does he really hate me that much? I shouldn’t care, but I do. Love doesn’t just die because you’ve been wronged in one of the worst ways possible.
I move to the sink after grabbing some toilet paper and start dabbing under my eyes. Surprised by the few tears that have appeared. I’m not too worried because I’ll likely cry enough tears to last me a month when I get home. After checking my hair and composure in general, I deem myself fit enough to be seen in public. Even if I really just want the comfort of my own home and a head start on the crying session coming my way. I can’t leave just yet, though.
I open the bathroom door and start searching the crowds for Millie, only to give up and decide on solitude for a little while. After finally finding the kitchen and nabbing a bottle of water, I take a couple of sips and then move to the backyard and the darkness it’ll hopefully provide, knowing that Wilma wouldn’t have it open to guests. She takes too much pride in her rose gardens to have them littered in or trampled on. I find it exactly as I hoped I would—blissfully empty and dark. I skim my hand along the rendered wall until my eyes adjust to the darkness, and I find the bench seat that I know is around here somewhere.
Bingo.
I practically collapse onto it, not realizing until it’s too late that I’m not actually collapsing onto the bench at all, but a person already seated on it. I squeak and jump back up, my arms flailing around like I’m on the moon and gravity is not my friend. Hands thankfully wrap around my waist, stopping me from falling into God knows what precious flower bed Wilma has surrounding the porch. I turn around, and the hands fall away.
“Thank you. I’m so sor—” I start before I’m cut off by my own name. “Olive?”
Huh? I squint, and now that my eyes are adjusting, I can make out those familiar dark pools set in the same face as those incredibly sculpted cheekbones and square, shadowed jaw—Seb.
“Seb?” I ask as if I don’t already know exactly who I met in the coffee shop last month. What’s he doing here? Stupid question. I’d bet most of the town is in attendance. As if reading my mind, he starts rubbing the side of his jaw with his hand and answers, “Hey, ah Beau and Ryan invited me. They said free booze. So I stupidly said yes even though I’m not really in the mood. Don’t really know all that many people in there anyway.” He trails off with a wave of his hand toward the general direction of the party inside. I can understand that with him being relatively new to Ivy Falls and all. “Mind if I join you?”
“Yeah, I mean, no. Of course, you can,” he stammers out.
Christ. Who would’ve thought a man with looks like his could be lacking any in the confidence department? I sit down with him on the bench, making sure to put a bit of distance between us. Crossing my legs, I smooth my floral lilac and cream cocktail dress over my knees before turning my head toward him. “So what’re you doing out here on your own?”
His eyes seem to dart everywhere and anywhere before they land on my face, and he sighs. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“What, why?” My interest is officially piqued.
He pins me with that dark chocolate gaze, his full, dark brows rising.
I laugh lightly. “Come on. You and I both know that when someone asks that of somebody, they pretty much can’t promise you a damn thing. Besides, it could be anything. You could’ve been out here picking your nose or something, for all I know.” I shrug.
He laughs. And I find myself smiling at the sound. It’s deep and a little husky. And if I’m being honest, I kind of really dig it.
“Shit. Well, you got me.”
I grin. “Well, it’s the perfect place to escape the party for a little private picking. Just don’t be flicking boogers into Wilma’s rose bushes. She’ll find them. Then she’ll get DNA testing done and probably hunt your ass down.”
He laughs louder this time.
Jesus, it’s nice. The sound is doing funny things to my tummy that has nothing to do with the little cherub hiding out in there.
He raises his hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’ll fess up. I was just playing a game on my phone.” He then flashes it in my direction, as if to prove his innocence.
“Ahhhhh. See? Totally not as sinister as nose picking, now is it? Always better to tell the truth. So what game were you playing?”
He stops chuckling. And clears his throat.
Um, okay. I wait a bit then wave my hand about in the universal sign for hurry it up.
“Solitaire,” he practically whispers before looking at the ground and rubbing the back of his neck. I swear if it wasn’t dark, I’d see him turning as red as a tomato.
“Solitaire?” I purposely nudge his leg with my foot. My grin now stretches wide across my face. This guy is just full of surprises.
“Don’t be embarrassed, dude. That’s probably the cutest thing I’ve ever heard come out of a guy’s mouth.”
I see his face cringe before he says, “The cutest thing?” as if it’s some sort of contagious disease. He chuckles lightly while shaking his head. “Let’s just forget you ever found out about this dirty little secret.”
“I will never forget. Ever.” I grin then laugh, feeling lighter than I have in months.
“So what about you, huh? What has you escaping out here and almost leaping into strangers’ laps?”
I scoff. “I did not leap! It’s dark as hell out here, and my eyes hadn’t adjusted …” I trail off while turning toward him. The white of his teeth seems to glow in the dark of night. As well as the whites surrounding those eyes. I can just make out a slightly crooked bottom tooth. He catches me staring and grins almost shyly. Oh, dear Lord, this guy is too much adorable. I almost wish I did leap into his lap.
Really, Olive? Keep it classy.
I shake my head to get my brain functioning properly again and remember he asked me a question. Though I’m not about to spill my life story to someone I only met recently, I can’t not say anything. “Just not feeling it either, I guess.”
I can feel his gaze on me as I look off into the gardens. I can see the beautiful maze of roses and garden pathways if I squint a little. I’m not naïve enough to think that he doesn’t know I’m evading the question or that he hasn’t heard something about Zeke and me. Newbie or not—he’s bound to know something. But if I’m guessing correctly, he’s not the kind of person to outright ask about it. Feeling thankful for that, I turn to him to ask about his job when I hear my name being called from nearby. I smile at Seb and turn in the direction I heard it.
“That sounds like Millie. I think I’d better go find her before she sends out a search party. Might even try to bribe her with a Hershey’s bar if she’s willing to bail early.”
Seb laughs at that. “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen her stuffing one of those in her mouth on a night shift.”
“Sugar is her caffeine and vice all wrapped up into one.” I smile fondly.
He stares at me a minute, and I start to get warm all over from his intense gaze. So I stand and smooth my dress over my butt. “Well, it was quite the experience seeing you again, Mr. Seb. Your secret is safe with me.” I smile cheekily at him.
“Mathews.”
“Sorry?”
He clears his throat again. “My last name, it’s Mathews.”
Oh, okay then. “Then maybe I’ll see you around, Seb Mathews.”
Shit, did that sound like a come-on? I blush as he grins widely at me.
It did. I’m such a dirty rotten skank-face sometimes. I’ll be blaming this fuck-up on the hormones.
“Yeah. Maybe indeed, Olive.” He smirks at me before I turn away. I wave when I reach the doors and walk back inside.
I find Millie right away. “Were you sitting outside in the dark? I opened the door to check just now, and I swear I heard your voice.”
I nod as I drag her by the hand back through the crowd to say goodbye to Wilma and Ken.
“What were you doing out there?”
“Let’s go say goodbye. I’ll tell you in the car.” And I will after we stop for snacks.
“He’s gone?” Millie gasps. “Just up and left town like even more of a fucking asshole?”
I nod as we sit in my living room. Binge eating.
“I can’t beweeve eed acchuawy do all a dis cwazy stuffs,” she mumbles around a mouth full of popcorn and chocolate. Best combo ever.
“We’d best start believing then, hey?” I mumble as I dig out another handful of popcorn from the bowl. I find myself becoming exhausted so easily these days. But more so at the sound of his name or just the thought of him. As if my body has just had enough and no longer wants to waste more precious energy on his stupid ass. I just wish my heart would jump on board. That’d be great, thanks.
“Fuck him, Liv. You’ve got me. I dub myself your new baby daddy.”
I laugh. “So no more Aunt Millie, then?”
Her eyes widen. “I’m that awesome that I’m gonna be both, mkay?”
“Deal.” I reach over and squeeze her hand in gratitude. She squeezes back and shoots me a sly smile with chocolate coating the side of her mouth.
“What? You’ve got chocolate on your mouth, noob.”
She wipes it off before diving straight in. “So Seb, huh?”
Shit.
I knew this was coming since I told her on the car ride home who I was talking to outside—before swiftly changing the subject to food. Usually, it works every time.
“Don’t even give me that look, Liv. He’s so fucking hot; I’d be all over that like a bad rash if I could get over this dumb infatuation with Beau. Did you see him tonight? Ugh.”
I shake my head. Millie’s had it bad for Beau since high school. I think he’s always known but has permanently friend-zoned her in favor of continuing his playboy lifestyle. She’s dated, but it’s never led to anything serious.
I can’t argue with that, though. I may be pregnant with a baby daddy who’s done a runner, but I do have eyes. “It’s not like that. And it couldn’t be anyway. You know that better than anyone, Mil.”
“He could have a thing for pregnant women.” She shrugs.
I give her the stink eye while I suck the chocolate off my fingers.
“Or I could never be ready to even think about dating again. Like, ever,” I suggest with a raise of my brows. “Besides, he doesn’t even know I’m pregnant.”
She shrugs again. “It’s been what, three, almost four months since you guys have broken up? You’re allowed to get some. Or move on and try to be happy. Screw what everyone else thinks. Ever heard of rebound sex?”
“After a six-year relationship? With a baby? Way too soon for me, Mil. Too soon to be even having this conversation so let’s just drop it, please?”
She sighs dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. “Oh, all right. Just sayin’, he’s got that whole tall, dark, and mysterious thing going on.”
“Yeah, until he opens his mouth and you realize he’s actually kind of awkward and shy at times—totally adorable.”
Shit.
Millie’s going to get all stage-five clinger over that bit of word vomit.
She laughs. “Ooohhhh! It sounds to me someone likes this new discovery,” she singsongs.
Ugh. I grab the TV remote and turn up the volume on our latest guilty pleasure, Jersey Shore. “Shut it, Mil.”
She finishes chewing another mouthful of popcorn before adding, “And just FYI, I’ve met him quite a few times now, and he’s never come across as shy or awkward, that I’ve noticed anyway.” She raises a brow meaningfully at me.
I know what she wants me to make of that, but I’m going to try not to even let my mind go there. Try being the key word here.