Then, with a sigh, I reach for the phone, my thumb sliding across the screen.
Of late, my mother has certainly made a habit of interrupting my time with Olivia—ever poised to wedge herself into the fragile seams of my peace.
“Nathaniel, darling,” her voice trills through the line, bright and chipper as ever.
I steel myself. “Mother.”
“I’ve arranged for the jet to collect you on Saturday morning. You’ll fly into Teterboro.”
I sit back against the headboard, my mind running a quick audit.What the hell is on Saturday?I’m silent long enough for her to supply the answer herself.
“I can’t wait to see you, especially on such an important occasion—my birthday!”
The memory clicks belatedly into place. The gala. Her fiftieth.
It had slipped my mind entirely, eclipsed by the weeks of chaos, by the unbearable thought of losing Olivia. Everything else had been background noise compared to the catastrophe of her absence.
“Of course,” I answer smoothly, my tone even, hiding the lapse. “Thank you for arranging the jet. I’ll be there.”
Beside me, Olivia’s brows lift, her expression curious, surprised. I realize in that instant she has no idea about the event.
My mother goes on, oblivious. “And you’ll be bringing Olivia, won’t you? She’s already on the list.”
A thrum of unease starts low in my chest. My gaze stays fixed on Olivia.
Too much, too soon?We’ve only just stitched ourselves back together, raw and tender. And yet, not bringing her would be unthinkable. My mother already expects her there—Olivia’s presence is non-negotiable. More than that, I cannot imagine standing in that ballroom without her at my side. If last winter proved she belongs next to me, this spring will prove she belongseverywherewith me.
“Is she with you now?” my mother presses.
“Yes.” The word leaves me before I can stop it.
“Perfect,” she says, seizing the moment. “Let me speak to her.”
There’s no way out of it. I put the phone on speaker and place it between us.
“Olivia, my dear,” my mother’s voice lilts, warm and expectant. “I hope you’ll do me the honor of joining us on Saturday. It wouldn’t be complete without you.”
I don’t take my eyes off my girl. Every flicker of her face arrests me: the initial surprise, the way her graceful composure slides into place a breath later.
“Of course. Thank you, Renée,” she answers, her tone warm, assured. “I’d be delighted.”
The pride that grips me is almost unbearable.Effortless.She adapts with the poise of someone born to this world, even though she wasn’t. That adaptability humbles me.
The call ends with my mother’s usual effusion, her bright lilt still echoing in the room. I let the phone fall back to the table, exhaling.
Truth is, I had forgotten the date. The reconciliation with Olivia, the confession of my sins, the near loss of her—everything else was swept aside by the magnitude of that fear. But now? There is nothing left to hide. No secrets to weigh me down. This time, New York will not be the city of fractures and lies. It will be the place where I walk beside her openly, with nothing left to break us.
Olivia shifts, propping herself on my chest, her grin tugging at the edges of her mouth. “Perhaps we should continue where we left off?”
My lips curve, my hands sliding instinctively along her waist. The thought alone is enough to undo me.
And just like that, the night belongs to us again.
TWENTY-FOUR
olivia
The living room is unrecognizable.The sleek expanse of glass and marble has been transformed into something out of a Vogue shoot—mirrors rimmed with light, gleaming makeup kits spread across tables, curling irons and hair dryers humming in tandem. Assistants move quietly around me, adjusting lights, fetching brushes, one smoothing a silk robe over my shoulders while another fusses with my hair.
