Page 12 of Time To Live Again

Leo gives her a quick hug, more like a friendly one, not romantic. Something like jealousy creeps in again, which is absurd. Or is it envy? I’ll stick with envy because who wouldn’t want to look like her? In case I have to shake her hand too, I nonchalantly wipe my hands on my jeans. Or better yet, it’s time to order a coffee. I turn toward the counter, and of course, no one is there. I pretend to read the menu that’s on the wall opposite me as I eavesdrop.

Leo continues. “Nope, not hiding. Several of your demanding party guests kept me busy with their special requests,” he jabs, humor clear in his voice.

I take a quick glance over my shoulder to see their interaction.

She cocks her hip. “You’re such a liar.”

“Maybe, maybe not. You could’ve called me if you needed something. Or did you want to see my handsome face?”

“Right.” She rolls her eyes. “I was missing that fiesta fuzz too much.”

Fiesta fuzz? I swallow my laugh and pull my eyes away before I draw attention to myself.

He scoffs. “Come on. Admit it. You want Sam to grow one. It adds character.”

“Not on your life,” she declares. “Anyway, just to confirm again, you aren’t bringing anyone to the party tonight, correct? Bethany asked to sit next to you.”

Who’s Bethany, and why do I care?My nosiness makes me take a casual mini step closer along the counter to hear them better.

“I know she’s your friend, but no. Not interested. Sorry, but not sorry.”

Relief washes over me, which again is fucking absurd. I want to peek at them to see her face, but it’d be too obvious that I’m listening in.

Then Leo’s voice changes as he adds, “Ya know what? Leave an empty seat next to me—notfor Bethany. Who knows what might happen between now and midnight.”

How does someone like him not have a date?

“Whatever you say, funny guy. Gotta go. I’m off to see your sister. See you tonight.”

Melancholy washes over me.Where is the damn barista?I’m so out of place here while they talk about a party I’m not invited to and a woman who’s interested in Leo. While they’re partying tonight, celebrating the new year, I’ll be in my room watching TV. Or sleeping before the clock strikes twelve.

“I’m back, Olive,” Leo says from behind me.

I take a deep breath, slip on my happy face, and turn around.Oof.I collide with Leo’s hard chest. When did he get this close? And why? He stumbles back and grabs my arms to balance us.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” His anxious gaze sweeps over my face.

I rub my nose. “Not really. It was more of a shock than anything else. I’m fine.”

Leo places his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “Olive, I’m really sorry.” His phone rings in his pocket, and he takes it out, checking the screen. “Damn it. I need to take this call.” He groans. “Please order whatever you want. It’s on the house since I keep making you wait. I really thought it’d be a lot quieter.”

I wave him off. “No problem. Do what you have to do. I’m fine.” He doesn’t owe me anything. He gives me a thumbs-up, then quickly mentions to the barista that I don’t have to pay. Of course she shows up now.

Along with a large cappuccino, I order a lemon tart and a chocolate macaron. “You can take a seat wherever you want. I’ll bring your order to you,” the barista says. I make my way over to a table in the corner.

A minute later, Leo returns. “Olive, I hate to say this, but I need to get back to the front desk. There are some fires to put out. Do you want to come back with me to see if your room is ready? I’m sure it is.”

As he says this, my order arrives. I thank the woman, and she leaves.

“My room can wait. I’m going to enjoy this first.” My stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Good. Either I’ll come by with your key or Donna will. Or come to the front desk when you’re done. Okay?” He’s babbling, almost like it physically pains him to leave me.

“Leo, go. You’re working. No need to babysit me.”

He frowns. “That’s not what I’m doing. I really wanted to sit with you. Hopefully, we’ll get a chance some other time or later.” His phone rings again, and he shuffles backward toward the door, almost tripping over a chair. “Okay, gotta go before someone comes looking for me. I really don’t want that.” He spins around and is out the door in a flash.

I deflate in my chair. From the second I arrived at this hotel, it’s been nonstop. What an unexpected and perfect distraction. To prevent myself from crashing, I take a few sips of my cappuccino, then pull out my AirPods, a little notebook, and a pen from my handbag. Searching Spotify, I click a favorite movie soundtrack.

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