“Where am I now?”
She slides me a physical copy, and if this was any other event, I couldn’t care less about where they put me, but I was supposed to be next to Livy for the inauguration. Whoever on my team fucked this up may indeed be on the chopping block.
“You’re now a row back,” she explains. “Seated behind Governor Harris of California.”
“Who did this?” I do my best to school my disappointment.
“President Taylor’s team.”
“They moved me behind her?”
“Yes, but other than that, there have been no other changes. You’re now next to President Hernandez.”
I review the seating for a moment. “Well, this is good news with the upcoming adjustments to lumber exports.”
“That was Joyce’s thought as well. Also, a reminder that President Taylor insisted she wanted everyone to enjoy their time here in D.C., so there are no scheduled events this evening—she didn’t want anyone to feel obligated to attend yet another planned event. Did you want me to arrange anything for you?”
Four years ago, the inaugural planning committee went a bit overboard with dinners, brunches, and cocktail hours. Though it was overwhelming, it was warranted. America had just elected their first woman to the presidency. It was historic.
“No, thank you, Claire. Enjoy your evening.”
With no dinner or event to attend tonight, I send a quick text to Olivia, in hopes she’ll make time for me.
What are you up to tonight?
When she doesn’t reply, I pocket my phone and check in with my staff back home. After a few hours, there’s still no message from Livy, and I’m starving. We’re staying at the same hotel, so there’s a chance we could run into each other in the lobby or on an elevator ride.
Or at least that’s my hope.
Giving everyone else the night off, my head of security, Todd, accompanies me to one of the more casual bars where a hockey game is on. The San Francisco Sea Lions are playing the Vancouver Caribous, and as we take a seat at the bar, Vancouver scores. A combination of cheers and boos fill the space, making me chuckle to myself. It’s nothing like back home, where you wouldn’t find a single patron rooting for the California team.
The bartender asks for our order, and as I’m about to reply, my favorite scent surrounds me—lavender, rose, and vanilla.
Olivia.
The fragrance is like a damn spell. I glance to my right, behind Todd. She’s not there. My head snaps to movement on my left, where a brunette woman is sliding onto the stool next to me. She’s facing her friend who has dark auburn hair. From this angle, I can’t see either of their faces, but my soul doesn’t need to. My Livy is less than a foot from me, and based on the laugh of her friend, it has to be Aubrey next to her.
I quickly pull my attention back to the bartender who’s patiently waiting for me. “I’d love a whiskey on the rocks. Whatever top-shelf you have. Thank you.”
Olivia’s hitch in her breath is all the confirmation I need that it’s her. From the corner of my eye, I catch her whispering something to Aubrey, who checks behind Olivia, wide-eyed as she spots me. A playful smirk tilts her lips as she says a little louder than necessary, “Hey, Livy? Guess who’s here tonight.”
In slow motion, like in a damn movie, Olivia swivels in her seat to face me. The moment our eyes meet, my heart stops. Hell, fucking time stops. While we’ve had video calls, she’s even more beautiful in person. I’d give anything to reach out and touch her, except it probably wouldn’t bode well for either of us. One photo could send us right back into the gossip mill.
“Isaac.” My name as a plea on her lips has my gaze pulled to the crimson painted on them.
I clear my throat. “Well, this is a welcome surprise. Good evening, Governor Harris.”
“Hey, um, hi… Prime Minister Banks.” Her throat bobs when she swallows, making my palm itch as I remember exactly how it feels against my hand. The only thing hotter than her calling me Prime Minister Banks was when she was a little loopy from melatonin and teasingly called me Daddy Isaac a few months ago. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s a bar, Livy,” Aubrey replies for me, nudging her elbow against Olivia’s. “He’s doing the same thing we’re all doing—having a drink. Hey, Isaac. Good to see you again.” She hops off her stool and stretches her arms wide for a hug. I slide out of my seat as she pulls me in for a short, friendly embrace. She announces, “It’s been ages,” then keeping her voice low, she adds, “I’ve set precedent. Don’t fuck this up by grabbing her ass.”
“What?” It takes me a moment to realize what she’s insinuating. If anyone were to ask, the three of us are college friends catching up—I can hug Olivia right now, and no one would ever know how much I crave to do more than briefly hold her. I’ll take what I can get.
Aubrey and I remain standing, and it only takes Olivia a heartbeat before she figures out what I’m up to. Her smile is wide, meeting her eyes, then she slides off her stool to wrap her arms around me. For the first time since I let Livy go all those years ago, peace washes over me.
I lean in to whisper beside her ear, “How are you more gorgeous than the last time I saw you?” Instinctively, I dip my chin and press a soft kiss to her neck, causing a whimper to get caught in her throat.
As she pulls back, her cheeks are visibly pink even through her makeup, and I love how after all this time I still have this effect on her. I grant myself a moment to take her in while her honey-brown eyes search mine in question. They’re highlighted by liner she almost never wore when we were younger, and her dark red lips are practically begging me to taste her. The small lines at the corners of her eyes only make her more beautiful. How the hell am I going to survive the next few days and not touch her?
