LIVVY BLEW on the surface of the hot coffee she held, the silence of the café calming her. She’d only stopped by Kane’s after hours to pick up some of the day’s excess sandwiches for dinner—she’d officially given up on navigating the kitchen at home—but she was glad she’d accepted Sadia’s offer of a cup while her sister-in-law got the food together.
Livvy took a sip, a frightening level of contentment filling her. For most of her adult life, Livvy hadn’t been able to experience happiness without pain. Guilt and sadness and darkness were like a fine overlay on her entire life, a veil with the power to tarnish anything good that came her way.
For the past week, though, every night she’d spent with Nicholas had been simply . . . happy.
There had been a little twinge when she’d snuck out to see him. A prick when she had to creep back into her mother’s house or lie about having a shift at work. A wince when she drove up to another hotel room. A trickle when she grew relieved that her mother was rapidly improving in stability and mobility so she didn’t feel so bad about not being home when she wasn’t working.
Other than that, though, she was wallowing in this extended-pleasure portion of her Nicholas Pleasure/Pain Cycle.
They didn’t just fuck, though—Livvy shifted in her seat, wincing a bit—yes, there was definitely fucking happening. When they were finished, she snuggled into his arms, her head on his chest, and they would talk.
They spent most of their time discussing the things they’d done separate from their shared history, tip-toeing around their families and the company. The places she’d been, the things she’d seen, how she’d grown her skills and business while moving constantly. He’d traveled internationally quite a bit, while she’d never gone farther than Canada. They’d had the money for it when she was a kid, but her mother had been terrified of long flights.
She listened quietly as he told her about Paris, and then badgered him about his visit to the Louvre, forcing him to recount in excruciating detail every exhibit he could remember.
She’d ached when he’d drowsily pressed a kiss to the top of her head and murmured, “You should go there sometime.”
She’d go, maybe. But not with him, and she wanted his perspective on every painting and sculpture.
The first night, she’d woken up after they’d fallen asleep, certain he’d left the hotel room. But, no, there he’d been next to her. She’d been so relieved she hadn’t even minded the way his big body had sprawled across the majority of the bed. She hadn’t minded, but she’d still nudged him until he rolled over with an annoyed mutter, giving her more space. It was the principle, after all.
She’d contemplated leaving, but finally decided against it, marking another subtle shift in their relationship. They left together now, no one around in the predawn hour to catch them.
Livvy was no dummy. She knew what was coming. There was pain on the horizon.
She’d deal with it. It would be hard, and possibly bad, but this was worth it.
Her best friend bustled out of the kitchen and dropped a tray in front of her. Livvy eyed the tower of sandwiches and baked goods covered by cling wrap. “You weren’t kidding. That’s a lot of leftovers.”
“Business was slow today.” Sadia placed two plates in front of them and sank into the seat with a sigh. “Here, grab a bite before you leave.”
Sadia looked as tidy and sensible as ever, in her jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but there was an air of weariness about her. “You doing okay?” Livvy asked.
“Oh yes. Of course.” Sadia nudged aside the plastic wrap, picked up a scone from the tray, and started to crumble it on her plate.
After careful deliberation, Livvy went with a cookie. She bit into it, chewed, and swallowed. “Huh. Did Rick change the recipe?”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
Livvy raised an eyebrow at the sharpness in the question. “No. It tastes a little different, is all.”
Sadia cleared her throat. “I made that batch, actually.”
Weird. Sadia was no baker. “Is Rick out sick?”
“No. He, um, retired.”
“What?” That was huge news. Rick had been at the café for as long as she could remember. The menu he’d crafted was small but his emphasis on fresh ingredients had helped endear the place to locals.
Sadia continued crumbling the scone. “He wanted to spend more time with his grandkids.”
“When did this happen?”
“Right about the time you got back.”
“And you’ve been doing all the cooking since?”
Sadia shrugged.
If Sadia was playing chef as well as manager, that meant she was probably waking up before the sun to get into the kitchen. How was she even functioning? “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Mom and Aunt Maile know. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. You had so much on your plate.”
“And you don’t?” Guilt crawled through Livvy. “I’m the worst friend.”
Sadia cocked her head. “How’s that?”
“I should have known something was up with you. I think I did know, but I wanted to give you space.”
“You’re not psychic, and I do like space.” Sadia’s smile was faint. “Let’s save some time and energy and agree not to feel bad about silly things. I know you love me.”
Livvy bumped her knee against her friend’s. “I do love you. I’d like to help.”
“Have you been hiding your cooking skills all this time?” Sadia asked hopefully.
“Unless you count omelettes, no.”
“Yeah. Me neither.” Sadia looked down at her plate. Her best friend’s shoulders slumped infinitesimally.
Which was basically a full-on wail of despair from anyone else. “Oh, Sadia.”
She rubbed her forehead. “It’s fine. I’ll find someone soon. I can’t afford not to.”
“That sounds dire,” Livvy said cautiously.
Sadia’s exhale was loud. “When Paul died, I discovered he’d taken out a couple of loans.”
“Big loans?”
“Big enough. Oh, we were fine while he was alive. I know it’s not what he’d planned on doing with his life, but Paul was good at running the café. He knew the business and he had that magnetic personality, you know?” Sadia blinked, hard. “People wanted to be around him.”
Livvy placed her hand on her sister-in-law’s shoulder and handed her a napkin, her sinuses feeling a little tickle. Sadia was so stoic, it was easy to forget she’d lost her husband not too long ago. “He did. I’m sorry.”
Sadia wiped her eyes. “I’m not Paul. I’m not a business genius or a magnetic person.”
“I have savings—” Livyy began, but Sadia shook her head.
“I can’t take money from you.”
“I’m family, as you like to point out. And those are my brother’s debts.”
“And now they’re mine,” Sadia said quietly. “Mine to deal with. Just because I didn’t know about them is no reason for you to have to hand over your life savings.”
She thought about Nicholas’s offer. Livvy hated feeling so useless. “What if I could get you more than market value for the café?”
For a second, Sadia looked tempted, but then she shook her head. “What would I do if I didn’t have this place? I have a high school degree and no real skills. I can’t move, and take Kareem away from your mom and my sisters and his cousins. My choices are limited.”
“I want to help you.”
“You are.” Sadia pressed her hand over Livvy’s and squeezed. “You’re here.”
“I’m going to leave soon.” She said it more for herself than for Sadia.
“I know.” Sadia lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t mean you’re here physically. Being able to see you like this, for a day or a week or a month, is great, but I meant you’re here.” She indicated her heart. “I’m always in your pocket and you’re always in mine, aren’t you?”
Livvy swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Always.”
“Plus, I’m going to assume I’ll see you more now, right?”
“Yes.” She wouldn’t be able to stay away for another decade, no matter what happened with Nicholas. She needed these connections far too much.
Sadia relaxed. “Good. You have much more to teach Kareem. I caught him explaining to his friend that his cool aunt Livvy is a fucking tattoo artist.”
Livvy squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
“I’m so sorry. I swear, I’ll watch my mouth next time I babysit.” The words fell from her lips so easily. Next time.
Sadia, thank God, looked more amused than annoyed. “Please. Now, tell me what you’ve been doing. I haven’t seen you all week.”
What am I doing, or who am I doing? Yeah, she wasn’t quite ready to talk about Nico. “I saw Grandpa John,” she said quietly.
Sadia pursed her lips in a soundless whistle. “Wow.”
“Yes.”
“What was that like?”
“Fantastic. Better than anything I could have imagined.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “He hugged me.”
“As he should. You’re eminently huggable.”
“He said he would have come to Paul’s funeral, but he didn’t want to upset us.”
A shadow moved behind Sadia’s eyes. “How kind of him.”
“Nicholas said the same thing.”
“Nicholas? You saw him again?”
Livvy bit her lip. Shit. “I mean, you know. He said it that time I told you about.” It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the full truth either, but it wasn’t a lie.
No one can know. They would hold firm on that part of their agreement. They could resolve whatever was between them without anyone else getting hurt.
Sadia’s brow cleared. “Oh, right. Well, I know John tried to talk to Paul a couple of times, but Paul refused.”
“I’m probably going to see John again soon. Maybe you and Kareem could come with me.”
Sadia wrinkled her nose. “To be honest, Livvy, I’m not too eager to introduce Kareem to the whole Kane-Chandler dynamic. It messed Paul up. Being an heir to C&O was his whole identity, and once it was gone, he didn’t know who he was.”
“None of us knew who we were after it was gone. It’s hard to go from feeling so certain about what your life is and then having it ripped away from you.”
“I have no doubt. But you found yourself, Livvy.”
Livvy raised an eyebrow. Had she?
“Paul . . .” Sadia frowned. “Paul didn’t. Being a small-business owner and my husband and Kareem’s father—any and all of those things could have defined him, but they came in second place to what he’d lost.”
Though Livvy hadn’t spoken to her brother for a long time, she could see that being the case. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Paul was responsible for himself.”
Livvy nodded slowly. On the list of things she needed to deal with from her past, her estrangement from Paul would have to be one that couldn’t be resolved. Whatever regrets and sorrow she had about their relationship would be ones she carried. “Right.”
“Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m happy you saw John and I hope you can get some closure with him.”
“Yes, well, that was the reason I went to see him. I needed it.” She drank her coffee. “Jackson was right. It was unrealistic to think I could only confront tiny parts of my past.” But he’d been wrong about those parts being unresolvable.
Sadia froze. “Wait. You talked to Jackson?”
“Not much. He saw me for about two minutes, then got on his bike to go to New York.”
“You saw Jackson? He was in town?”
Oof. She hadn’t thought about how Sadia would feel about that. “Yeah.”
“What . . . but he didn’t even come to Paul’s funeral!”
“He said he couldn’t.” The bit about being in jail, Livvy would keep to herself. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her brother. She didn’t know enough of the story to relate it to anyone.
“Yeah. Right.” Sadia’s lips thinned so much they practically disappeared.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset. I don’t understand why he’d show up now when he couldn’t be bothered for anything else.”
Sadia was totally upset. But Livvy wasn’t about to rile her up further.
Her friend attacked the shreds of the scone. “Is he gone for good?”
“I got a text this morning saying he’d be back tomorrow.” Livvy finished her cookie. “I can tell him to come see you.”
“Whatever.” Sadia tossed down the food she’d been playing with and came to her feet. “I haven’t seen him in years. What do I care if he doesn’t bother to see his sister-in-law and nephew? I don’t care at all.”
“Uh.” It sounded like she cared an awful lot, but Livvy wasn’t in a hurry to point that out. “Okay.”
Sadia smiled, though it was nothing more than a fierce baring of her teeth. “Listen, I have to run. I want to check in on Kareem before my sister comes over to watch him while I’m at the bar.”
Part of Livvy wanted to pursue this, but Sadia had said she liked space. Plus, she wasn’t sure what else to say. Jackson was complicated. “That’s fine.” Livvy grabbed the food and said her goodbyes to Sadia. It wasn’t until she checked her phone in the car that she realized she’d received a text.
Nicholas. Coordinates and a time, eleven o’clock.
His texts had come so often she’d stopped counting them, but she couldn’t stop treasuring them. She ran her fingers over the numbers before checking her watch. She had plenty of time to eat dinner in front of the blaring television and try to engage her mother in conversation before she headed off.
The awful guilt threatened, and she pushed it aside. Nope. While what she was doing with Nicholas wasn’t totally risk-free, he’d been right: it was far healthier than anything she’d done with the man in a decade.
She didn’t realize she had a goofy smile on her face until it widened when she got another text.
Wear something nice.