My tummy fluttered with butterflies. Though I appreciated his conviction, objectively, I couldn’t compare to a supermodel. “You’re sweet,” I said with a shy smile.
He took my shoulders and turned me to the mirror. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he kissed the top of my head. His fingers trailed my neck as he pulled my hair into a loose ponytail. “Nobody even compares. I’m not blind. I know Maria is beautiful, but she’s nowhere near you, honeybee.” His hands complemented his words as he slid them down and over my backside, inspiring a burning need within me. “I had to know you the moment I saw you. That’s never happened to me. Any man would be lucky to have you, Olivia.”
I stared at his reflection. “I only care that you want me.”
“I want you, all of you, any way I can have you,” he murmured, kissing my neck. “And anywhere.”
Words failed me. David’s model good looks—his sharp, defined features, jet-black hair, and heavy, serious eyebrows—put him in another league. The cleft of his chin and the fullness of his bottom lip softened an otherwise razorblade jawline. He could’ve been a movie star, and he was tellingmeI was beautiful? I searched his chestnut-brown eyes, finding only honesty.
“Now, tie me up, would you?” he asked.
With my quizzical look, he raised his chin in the air to expose an undone bowtie.
I turned, fixed him up, and patted his chest once he was ready.
He grabbed my wrists and kissed one of my palms. “One of the best and worst nights of my life,” he murmured, resting his forehead against mine.
“Tonight?” I asked, alarmed.
“No—the night of the bowtie. You don’t know how badly I wanted you while I was also scared to death of driving you away.”
I melted into him as I remembered how I’d done up his bowtie right before an electric, sinful, and terrifying first kiss—after which I’d immediately had to face my husband.
“I love knowing that my bowtie is the only one you’ll be tying from now on,” he said.
I loved knowing that, too, and I showed him with a kiss to rival our very first one.
* * *
David and I fought again in the car. He insisted on sneaking us through the back entrance, but I ordered him to walk the red carpet and receive the praise he deserved for his work—even if I couldn’t allow myself to stand by his side. He’d been grumbling when I’d slipped onto the sidewalk a few car lengths before we were due to hit the entrance and its mess of photographers.
Since Gretchen hadn’t arrived, and I didn’t know anybody at the party, I checked my coat and headed straight for a temporary bar that’d been set up in the lobby, then ordered drinks for David and me.
While I waited, I pulled out my new phone and checked my e-mail.
From:Bill Wilson
Sent:Sat, November 10 05:48 PM CST
To:Olivia Germaine
Subject:Hey
Tomorrow will be hard. I guess I feel like Sunday’s our day.Wasour day. This has been a lot to process. I still feel a little like I’m in a nightmare. Andrew caught me up on some details. I’m worried about you & don’t trust this David guy AT ALL. He has no relationship history to speak of according to Andrew but many many flings. I worry he thinks this is some sort of game?
I get that we have things to work on, Liv. I feel like I’ve been a good husband, but I’m willing to listen to whatever it is you think went wrong. You’ve always been hard to get through to, though, so I hope you realize this will take two.
You know how I feel about therapy, but I’ll do it for us. Forget this guy, Liv. He’s a womanizer. Come home so we can work this out. It’ll take time, but I know I can forgive everything one day.
Love, Bill
Jesus. I’d wanted Bill to put aside his anger and face reality, but although he seemed to be coming at things from a calmer perspective, he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that we were through.
I thanked the bartender for two tumblers of scotch—arich and flavorfulode to David’s and my first meeting—and took a long sip of mine.
Did Bill’s words have merit? The logical, sensible person I’d been throughout our entire marriage said yes. I could see Bill’s point. Looking in from the outside, my relationship with David had all kinds of red flags. But I was trying to break free of that mold and learn to find—and trust in—my instinct again.
Bill couldn’t possibly understand any of that, so I couldn’t let his possibly valid points get under my skin.
