I want to fist bump Sheldon for defending Olivia.
“I only met him once, but I didn’t like him, either,” I say, unable to keep my mouth shut. “He was completely wrong for her.”
Sheldon nods at me. “We’re guys, Mom. We can read the asshole vibe from a mile away. You’re too busy trying to see the good in all these jerks you’re setting Olive up with that you’re missing the fact none of them have been right for her.”
“Well, what can we do about it?” Nora asks, furrowing her brow. “Olivia doesn’t seem too adept at finding ‘the one.’ And she deserves that in her life.”
I open my mouth and nearly say something I can’t take back.
I have to tell you something.
I blink. Apparently I say that out loud without realizing it because the entire booth is staring at me like I’m about to announce something life-changing.
“What did you say, honey?” Nora asks me. “You have to tell us something?”
“What is it?” Sheldon asks.
I let out a deep breath and try to sound casual. “I just mean that Olive will be okay. She’s going to be so happy in love one day soon that you’ll forget you were ever worried about her.”
Nora beams at me. “Thank you for that, Jenson. You know Olivia better than anyone, and I really hope you’re right.”
“Excuse me for a moment.” I stand up and walk down the hall toward the restrooms.
* * *
Olivia
It’s a one-person bathroom, and I turn the lock in relief before rinsing my face at the sink.
I turn off the faucet and look at myself in the mirror. My face is wet with water, and my eyes are sparkling blue. I look better than I feel, a feat women have perfected over the years. How can make-up and putting on a brave front help to hide the pain so well?
A knock on the door startles me, and I don’t answer. But it comes again louder.
“Just a minute!” I call out.
“Olive.” It’s Jenson. “Can you open the door?”
With my face still damp, I unlock the door and pull on the knob. Jenson’s standing right outside. His eyes are blazing with heat, and I stare up at him as he steps into the bathroom and closes and locks the door behind him. Before I can say anything, he backs me up against the wall and puts his mouth over mine.
I kiss him back like I’ll never get enough. His tongue sweeps across my lips and inside my mouth, and I clutch at his back. Then, I come to enough to remember where we are, and I pull back.
“My face is wet,” I mutter to him.
“I know. You want to dry it?” He puts his hands on my ass and lifts me off the ground and tighter against him.
“I can’t,” I say. “There are no paper towels in here.”
Jenson tears his gaze off of me to glance around. “It’s just that dryer thing?”
“Hot air’s more economical than paper. Not to mention more green.”
Jenson lets me down to the ground so he can untuck his t-shirt and hold it out. “Dry your face on me.”
“It will show,” I say. “Our mothers have eagle eyes.”
“Use the bottom, and I’ll tuck it back in. Come on.”
I smile at him as I dry my face on his shirt. It smells like his cologne; it smells like him. I lift it up to kiss his stomach, and then his chest. Jenson sucks in his breath.
