“I think most girls would choose their mother in a divorce, regardless of circumstances,” David said. “That’s why this probably goes deeper than that. The night at the apartment, when she called and made you cry—you said that your mom doesn’t love you.”
“I did?” I tried to recall the time between the phone call and our bath, but it was hazy.
“Yes. A parent is supposed to love their child unconditionally. If you don’t feel that from her . . . well, it’d explain a lot.” He paused, seeming to think. “That, in addition to her behavior, could be a large part of why it’s difficult for you to open up. If your own mother doesn’t love you for who you are, why would anyone else?”
“That sounds so sad,” I said.
“It’sdevastating, Olivia. It makes me hurt for you. And it’s completely fucked up. But . . .” He lifted my chin to get me to look at him. “You’re an accomplished, smart, and kind woman in spite of it. You should be proud.”
“I don’t know about that considering my actions lately, but I am grateful. I never knew it could be like this. I was happy and content before I met you. I loved, and I was loved.” I swallowed, looking into David’s clear eyes. “But I never experienced this . . . this desire to give myself over to another person, wholly and completely without holding anything back. It’s all new to me. I wouldn’t know that if you hadn’t fought for me.”
He resumed stroking my hair. “You say that like I had a choice.”
“I love you.”
He smiled. “I look forward to hearing that more often.”
“I’m sorry it took so long to say it in the first place.”
“I don’t care,” he said simply. “Because I never had any doubt.”
“Never?” I asked, fighting my own smile. “Not once?”
I laughed when the corner of his lip twitched. “Well, most of the time anyway.”
19
With a red pen shoved behind my ear, I hunched over the work I’d spread out on the seat back tray table in front of me. Flying first class certainly meant more space to work, but it was tough to get anything done with David’s eyes glued to me.
I looked over at the handsome man in the seat next to me with tousled weekend hair and black-framed reading glasses.
He folded the “Business” section of theTribunein his lap. “Hey.”
I shifted so my back was to the window. “I like your glasses,” I said.
He studied me a moment. “The better to see you with.”
“They’re sexy.”
It hadn’t taken much convincing for the airline to make a space for David on the full flight and—despite my objections—get both our seats upgraded. I implied afterward that the conversation would’ve gone differently if he’d been talking to a man, but David insisted it was only because he was a good customer.
When he reached over and squeezed my thigh, my stomach dropped in just the right way. I waggled my eyebrows and nodded toward the restrooms at the front of the plane. He shook his head.
“Why not?” I asked.
“I’m not taking you in some disgusting airplane bathroom,” he said just above a whisper.
I stuck out my lower lip. “It doesn’t bother me. It might be fun.”
He eyed me. “I’m starting to worry that you’re only interested in me for sex.”
I laughed too loudly and shrank down in my seat. “Would that bother you?” He continued to glare at me. “I mean, you’re really good at it,” I pointed out.
Trying hard to suppress a smile, he shook his head and turned back to his article.
His glasses were definitely sexy, though. And so was the way he’d spent these past few days focused on me and getting to know my dad instead of trying to squeeze in work here and there like I might’ve expected. David had always known how to back up his love declaration with actions, and I had a lot to learn from him.
“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him.
