Caleb scoffed. “Not happening.”
Instead, Gramps produced a deck of playing cards and started to shuffle. “How do you boys feel about a little poker?”
Jake grinned and grabbed his plate. “You’re on, old man. We’ll clear the table, you deal.”
Someone was coming down the hall. Olivia raised her head, automatically seeking them out, only to catch the janitor walking by. Her shoulders slumped forward. Was it after five already? She dreaded going home anymore.
What was she doing, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jake? She didn’t really want him slinking by here again. She’d caught him once yesterday, and twice the day before, but she’d kept her head down behind her cubicle walls so he couldn’t see her. But she’d seen him.
He wasn’t looking much better than he had at the bar. Sure he had his button-down shirt and he wasdressednice, but a pound of concealer couldn’t hide the bags under his eyes. She did not envy the makeup artists their job right now.
By all rights, she should be pissed. He’d asked if he could contact her, not if he could see her at work. Did he want to talk again? She’d accepted his apology but hadn’t decided if she should give him another chance.
Her squad had asked what she wanted. And the answer was a time machine. She wanted more than anything to go back to the day of the photoshoot—no,beforethe shoot—so they could hash out what they were ahead of time. So that when Tony started his shit, Jake could act like she meant something to him.
Jake wouldn’t have broken her faith in him that way. And they wouldn’t be miserable.
Of course, she could put them both out of their misery and just get back together with him. No, that didn’t feel right either.
But it was late, and Kusanagi would be waiting for her dinner. Olivia saved her files and shut her computer down, then packed up her purse to head home. She had a date with a bowl of popcorn and the new anime movieBlackfox.
Three weeks after the break-up, Olivia was nearly done with the new promotion for the college football spot. She’d been managing it from afar, gritting her teeth when she had to pick which photos to use. It was a major responsibility and she hadn’t wanted to back out of the project, especially since that would bring their now-defunct relationship to light. Jake was being interviewed live at his peewee football game that morning, and Olivia debated whether to turn the channel on. On one hand, it would hurt to see him with the kids. On the other hand, she’d worked hard and she deserved to see the results. He’d texted her over the week, sending funny memes he saw online. It was just enough to keep him in her thoughts, and to show she was still in his. He’d even asked her if she’d watch the segment. He told her the kids wanted her to. She had replied vaguely, unwilling to commit. It wasn’t quite time yet, anyway.
Her phone rang. Mom.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Livvy.” Her mom cooed. “How is that hunk of yours?”
“He’s …” Crap, what could she say? If she admitted they were broken up, her mother would take it as license to meddle. But she couldn’t keep lying. “We’re kind of on a break right now.”
“Is everything alright?”
No. Everything was not alright.
“I’m fine. I just got tired of being his dirty little secret.”
“Well, there’s lots of young men that would be thrilled to show you off, I’m sure.”
“Mom … Too soon, okay?”
Her mom huffed. “I’m sorry. I just meant there’s plenty of fish in the sea.”
Wow. No comment on her age or biological clock? Who was this woman and what had she done with Olivia’s mother?
“Your father and I were talking, and we thought maybe we’d open the pool up early for your birthday if you wanted to come down for a little party. What do you think?”
Pool parties had been the best when she was younger. But she didn’t want a ton of people.
“I don’t want every single cousin there, Mom. Just you guys. And I’d really like to bring the girls.”
“Of course, bring your friends. And Jake, if you come back from your break.”
She’d take what she could get. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll let the squad know so they can put in their time off requests.” A thought occurred to her. “Hey Mom, how did Dad get Lundholm Furnishings started?”
“Well, he had money from the trust fund from your grandparents, and he got investors.” Then her mother gasped. “Are you coming home to work for your father? He’d love that—”
“No, Mom. I’m thinking about opening my own business.”
