Distracted all day, she had eventually reached out, unable to take it anymore. What did it get her? Asimple “No.”
Nothing else. No explanation, no update.
All her preparations for encountering Olivia in her court room had been for naught, and in the end, she still knew nothing.
She’d visited her mother the weekend after the end, as she referred to that horrible moment at the hotel, and that visit had drained her more than they usually did—a scary thought.
Her patience had been paper thin, and she’d bitten her lip so hard it bled, just to keep from snapping at her mother.
At the thought of her mother, Jaime’s mind drifted to a moment during one of their hotel room meetings, when Olivia talked about her family, and the yearning in Jaime’s chest had almost crippled her.
Olivia laughed, pouring Jaime another glass of red wine and handing it to her as they both sat naked on the bed, the covers hanging halfway over the edge, and only one pillow remained on the mattress.
“I’m serious. You cannot imagine the trouble younger siblings can get into! I constantly wished I was an only child growing up.” She shook her head. “And being the oldest, you carry much more responsibility, and not just that, but your parents will be so much stricter with you than they are with your siblings.”
“It makes sense, though. The first child is always new territory. Suddenly, you have this tiny human, who depends on you for their survival, everything.”
“Yes, but that circumstance isn’t different for any subsequent children.”
“No, but you gain experience in handling all the…problems children create.”
“So that justifies being harder on the first born?” Olivia asked with a glare.
Jaime resisted the urge to touch Olivia’s forehead and smooth out her frown. She shook her head. “I’m not saying that, but I can imagine parents being less worriedafterthey’ve been through these stages once, so they are less tightly wound, and this automatically makes them less fearful, which translates to being more permissive.”
“Huh. Perhaps.”
“Again, it’s just a theory. Not my area of expertise.”
“Anyway, it’s not just hard, having siblings, especially after your teenage years. It can also be quite wonderful. There will never be anyone else who knows you like they do, and who’s experienced the same upbringing.”
“You share a lot of burdens.”
“Yeah. Joys, too.” Olivia smiled, the arresting expression that always slowed Jaime’s heart down and spread a strange sort of warmth through her.
She supposed it must be nice to have someone to carry the burdens of your upbringing with you. Jaime would love to share her mother with someone, a person who would understand how difficult it was to want to love someone who so often was utterly unlovable.
Jaime forced herself off the couch, padding into the kitchen and pulling a bottle of her favorite merlot off the wine rack. She poured a generous portion and reclaimed her seat on the couch, taking a sip.
At first, she savored the familiar tang, but then her tongue recoiled as bitterness crept in, leaving her with an almost rancid aftertaste.
She sniffed the liquid—it smelled fine—before checkingthe bottle and cork. Completely normal, too. Jaime took another sip.
“Ugh,” she ground out, clenching her jaw. “Awful. What’s happening?” she muttered, rising to empty her glass in the sink before corking the bottle.
She supposed this fit right in. Everything since the no-good day at the hotel seemed to turn to shit. Jaime released a soft curse and got ready to go to bed. She might as well sleep her misery away.
Work eased a little, though it was especially monotonous. Why else would her mind constantly drift off? Two days later, she returned to theneverendingpages, trying to keep up withsomeof her routines.
But even this outing turned into an utter failure. She tried hard to concentrate on her book, yet aside from philosophy being…troublesome right now, the conversations of the other patrons intruded on her mind.
She didn’t want to hear about other people’s problems, nor did she want to witness their saccharine love confessions. Add to this, the music grated on her nerves, too. Since when hadneverending pagesbeenso busy on a Thursday evening?
She lifted her cup to drink more coffee, intent on hurrying up and heading back home, when a young woman bumped into her, spilling her still steaming drink over her shirt. Jaime jumped up and pulled at the fabric, wincing at the heat searing her skin.
“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry. Are you all right?” the woman asked, covering her mouth with one hand.
“Fine,” Jaime ground out, rushing off to the bathroom. As soon as she entered the room and gazed at the sink, she halted, swallowing hard.
