“OLIVIA? OLIVIA.”
Livvy blinked open her crusty eyes, jerking when she found her mother hovering over her. “What?”
Her mom held out her cell phone. “Sadia. She says she tried to call you and that it’s important.”
She rose on her elbow. “I’ll call her back later,” she whispered.
“Did you not hear her say it’s important?” Sadia snapped with uncharacteristic impatience.
Damn it. Livvy’d forgotten about her mother’s fondness for speakerphone.
With a sigh, she accepted the phone. Her mother silently hobbled out of the room.
“Hello,” she said, her raspy voice startling even her.
“My God, where have you been?”
Livvy sat up and scrubbed at the goop that had sealed her eyes shut. She’d come home yesterday in a daze, barely acknowledged her mother and Maile sitting on the sofa in the living room, and made her way upstairs only to engage in more of the same crying she’d done in her brother’s hotel room. She’d tried to tell herself there was value to discovering all this stuff with Nicholas and someday she’d look back on this as a period of massive growth as a human, but all of that was really hard to swallow when she was hurting so fucking much. “What’s up?”
“Listen, you need to get down here.”
“Down where?”
“To Chandler’s.”
The word drove a knife in her already fragile soul. She groaned and fell to her back. “Not now, Sadia.”
“No, you really need to.”
“I can’t go to Chandler’s.”
“Livvy. I really think you’ll want to.”
“Why?”
“It’s closed, and there’s a sign on the entrance with your name on it.”
“Wait.” She sat up with a jerk and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “What?”
“You heard me. It’s giant. Like, A-plus signage.” Sadia paused. “At some point, you and I are going to have a long talk about what’s been happening with you and Nicholas and why you wouldn’t confide in your best friend about it.”
Oof. Livvy winced at the frostiness layering Sadia’s words. “Because you would want to shiv him?” she ventured.
“Only if he was hurting you.”
He’ll always hurt me.
“Get down here, Livvy. I really don’t know what to make of this, but the man clearly wants to talk to you.” The phone went dead.
The silent line galvanized her into moving, like Sadia’s urgency had been transferred to her. Livvy pulled on her leggings from the night before and ran a brush through her hair, forgoing makeup in favor of running out the door. She was aware she looked like a mess, but she didn’t have time to don her usual armor.
It wasn’t until she tried to start her car that she remembered Ruthie wasn’t doing so hot. The poor girl sputtered and died. As preoccupied as Livvy was, a spurt of sadness coursed through her and she stroked the car’s steering wheel. Silly to feel sentimental over a car, but her parents had given Ruthie to her. She’d seen Livvy through everything.
A horn cut through her sadness, and she glanced out her window to find Maile and her mom sitting next to her in their little Kia. Livvy got out of Ruthie and Maile rolled down her window. “We’ll give you a ride.”
“How did you . . . ?” Oh. Speakerphone. The invention of the devil. “Guys, actually, I can drive myself.”
“For crying out loud, Olivia, get in the car,” Tani said, with great impatience. “And don’t frown so much. You’re already getting wrinkles.”
Do not get sidetracked by that beautiful blunt criticism.
Maile drove like a bat out of hell, but Livvy was too distracted to so much as clutch at the armrest in the back. When they were within eyesight of the store, she gasped.
“Well,” Tani murmured.
Maile drove closer. Multiple young men stood at each entrance of the parking lot, turning cars away. Would they be allowed in?
“Turn here,” she told her aunt.
When Maile pulled into the lot, the teenager there bent over, peered into the car, caught sight of her and smiled widely. He waved them in.
Maile parked in the spot closest to the entrance. Livvy fumbled with her belt and tumbled out. She was so focused on the sign, she barely noticed her mother and Maile also getting out of the car.
NICO + LIVVY = 4EVER
Holy shit. Holy shit.
A-plus signage indeed.
The white banner was humongous, covering the Chandler’s name entirely. It could probably be seen from the sky. She dragged the back of her hand over her mouth.
“What was he thinking?” she whispered.
“Livvy.”
Livvy’s attention darted to the entrance. Eve stood there, a folder in hand, looking poised and polished in a sensible business suit. Unable to resist getting to the bottom of Nicholas’s apparent break with his senses and reality, Livvy staggered to Eve. “What’s going on? What is this?”
Eve handed her a sealed envelope. “My brother asked me to give this to you.”
Livvy turned the envelope over. She wanted to rip it open and read the contents almost as much as she was terrified to.
Eve’s gaze went past Livvy. “Mrs. Kane.”
Envelope forgotten for a second, Livvy stiffened. Whatever issues she had with her mother, she was not about to let this Baby Chandler snap at her the way she had Livvy.
Tani drew even with them. “Evangeline.” Her voice was caressing. “What a beautiful young woman you’ve grown up into. Your mother would be so proud.”
Sharp sorrow and pleasure moved behind Eve’s eyes. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Livvy relaxed. Her thumb tucked under the folded flap of the envelope. Ever so slowly, she eased it open.
There was a paper inside, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to pull it out. Too many eyes were on her. Tani, Maile, and Eve, and hell, probably the kids tasked with turning away poor shoppers who just wanted to pick up a cake or a rotisserie chicken.
“Can I show you something inside?” Eve asked quietly. “I think it may help.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Livvy nodded. Though Eve had spoken to her, Tani and Maile followed them in.
The three of them halted inside the entrance. Tani was the first one to move, and she stepped closer to the framed photograph of John and Sam that Livvy had last seen in John’s home. “I thought this burned,” she whispered.
“It did,” Eve replied. “That’s a reprint. Nicholas ordered it restored yesterday.”
“Brendan must have shit a brick,” her mother said softly, and Livvy did a double take at the foul language.
Eve’s laugh was quickly disguised as a cough. She cleared her throat. “My father wasn’t happy, but Nicholas was adamant.” She looked at Livvy. “This isn’t what I wanted to show you, though.”
Tani was utterly still, staring up at her father’s young face. Maile placed an arm around her sister-in-law’s shoulder, and drew the smaller woman into her side. “Go on,” Maile told Livvy. “I’ll wait right here with your mother.”
Livvy followed Eve into the store, tapping the envelope against her thigh. The place was cool and dark. “How much money are you losing, closing for the day?”
“We were ordered to take the sign down and open after you arrived, so luckily, not too much, since you came early. Though Nicholas is still paying all the employees.”
Livvy licked her lips. So, a lot.
They wound through the deli and produce section, each step taking her back to her past, the sight of the floral section and the yellow roses there forcing her to avert her eyes. The store had essentially been rebuilt as a perfect replica of the C&O that had burned down. The tiles were the same, the fixtures upgraded, but familiar. Though she’d had no interest in the running of this business, she knew this store intimately.
Eve stopped in front of the bakery and pointed to something behind the glass. It took Livvy a second to understand. When she read the sign perched in front of the desserts, she inhaled deeply.
Olivia’s Cannoli, the tiny sign read.
He’d teasingly brought her here when they were dating to show her the sign he’d had the bakers make. It wasn’t uncommon—John had a cookie in here with his name on it. Their families wouldn’t have noticed in corporate, or if they had, would have only rolled their eyes.
It’s my favorite dessert, Nicholas had whispered.
The envelope burned in her hand. She looked down and pulled out the sheet of paper inside. Coordinates, printed at the top, ones she recognized instantly.
And underneath: All your nights. Everyone can know.
Tears burned. That asshole. That beautiful asshole.
When footsteps approached her, she swiped her hand over her eyes. It wouldn’t do to actively sob in front of Eve.
The other woman held out a white bakery box. “For the two of you.”
Livvy automatically accepted the box. “You’re really okay with this?” she demanded. “With him and me? Even knowing what a shit storm this is going to unleash?”
“I am.”
“It wasn’t so long ago you hated me.”
“I didn’t hate you.”
“You sounded like you did.”
“I’m . . .” Eve looked down at her hands. “I was mad at you.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Not because of your father.” She glanced up, her face red. “I’m not proud of this. I was mad you left.”
“You mean after the accident?”
“Yes. You left. After that night, it was like everyone left, except Nicholas. And even he changed. I felt like I lost everyone. My mother, my father, my brother and . . . you. My sister.”
“Oh, Eve.”
Her dark eyes glinted. “I missed you until I got mad at you. I told you, I’m not proud of my behavior. I’m sorry.”
Livvy bit her lip. “I’m sorry too. I should have . . .” What? Friended Eve on Facebook? Texted her? She’d had no idea if the girl would welcome or hate her.
“No. There was nothing you could have done. Don’t feel bad.” Eve wrinkled her nose. “I’m a grown woman. I should be able to separate childish abandonment issues from reality. It was my fault, and it won’t happen again.”
“I thought about you quite a bit over the years.” Out of necessity, she’d had to eventually stop wondering how Eve was. She hadn’t very well been able to ask Nicholas about Eve when she saw him annually. Googling her—which she’d done, a time or two—had resulted in more than a few public records but nothing of note.
Another casualty to the feud.
Eve nodded slowly. “That makes me feel really good.”
Livvy tucked the card under the flap of the bakery box. “Even if you’re okay with us, I bet your father won’t be.”
A faint smile played over Eve’s lips. “Just a guess, Livvy, but going by the small fortune my brother spent to hang a giant announcement outside and close this store, I don’t think Nicholas cares. And you don’t seem like the type to care either.”
“He might—”
“Look, I have no horse in this race.” Eve shrugged. “But Nicholas is tougher than you think. Tougher than he used to be.”
But was Livvy tough enough to take a gamble on him?
“Of course, the question is,” Eve remarked, “whether or not you believe that.”
She trembled. She wanted to, so badly. She wanted to believe that this time, everything would work out. But that didn’t happen outside of fairy tales. Right?