She nodded, taking a sip of water. "That story you told... about the thunderstorm. I didn't think you'd remember that."
"Of course I remember it." I studied her face in the candlelight. "I remember everything, Liv."
Her eyes met mine, searching. "Was that... was that real? What you said about feeling like home?"
I could have laughed it off. Could have told her I was playing the part. Instead, I owned it. "Every word."
The waiter arrived with wine and our appetizers, breaking the moment. Olivia focused on unrolling her napkin and setting her silverware to the side.
"We should keep an eye out for any clues about Ruby," she said, obviously trying to steer us back to the real reason for our stay.
"Right." I took a long sip of wine. "Seen anything suspicious yet?"
She shook her head. "Not yet. But we’ve got some free time tomorrow, so we might be able to snoop around."
I nodded, forcing myself to focus on the mission rather than how beautiful she looked with the candlelight dancing over her skin.
Dinner stretched on, course after course of food fancier than anything I'd ever eaten. We made small talk, careful to stay in character as the happy newlyweds whenever Serena or other couples passed by our table.
By the time we made it back to our room, I was emotionally exhausted. Playing the role of Olivia's husband, saying things that weren't far from how I really felt, was wearing me down.
"That went well, I think," Olivia said as she kicked off her shoes. "No one seems suspicious of us."
"Yeah." I loosened the top buttons of my shirt. "You want the bathroom first?"
She nodded and disappeared with her toiletry bag. I heard the shower start up and tried very hard not to imagine her in it. Naked. With water streaming down her body and over all of her curves.
To distract myself, I pulled out my sketchbook and started drawing. My hand moved on autopilot, sketching Olivia as she'd looked earlier today. Her hair flowed loose around her shoulders, her dress skimmed over each one of her curves, and her eyes snagged on me when I told that story about the treehouse.
When the bathroom door opened, I flipped the book closed. Olivia emerged in a pair of snug sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her hair damp around her shoulders.
"All yours," she said, gesturing to the bathroom.
I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water beat down on my shoulders, trying to wash away the tension I’d been holding onto all day. When I finally came out in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, Olivia was sitting cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through her phone.
"So..." I stood at the edge of the bed we'd have to share.
"We should get some sleep," she said. "Big day tomorrow."
I nodded, moving to turn off the main lights while she switched off the bedside lamp. We each took a side of the bed, careful to leave plenty of space between us. The rose petals had been cleared away while we were at dinner, but the memory of them stuck in my head, a reminder of the romantic fairytale we were supposed to be living.
"Goodnight, Liv," I said as I pulled the covers up to my chin.
"Night, Garner."
Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I stared up at the ceiling, painfully aware of her presence a few inches away. Her breathing was too measured, too controlled. She was as wide awake as I was.
"That story," she said, her voice soft in the darkness. "About the thunderstorm. Why did you never tell me that before?"
I turned my head toward her voice. "Tell you what? That you brought me hot chocolate during a storm? You were there, baby girl. You knew that part."
"Not that part." She shifted to face me. "The part about feeling like home."
I swallowed hard. "It’s not the kind of thing I would have shared with anyone back then.”
"No, I guess not." There was a long pause, and I thought maybe she'd fallen asleep. Then she spoke again, her voice barely audible. "Did you mean what you said? About knowing then?"
"Yeah," I admitted, the darkness making honesty easier.
