Page 75 of Time To Live Again

“How about today?” she responds, her voice filled with excitement. “I’ll call Tonya when I’m done here.”

“Perfect.”

Slowly—no, quickly—everything is falling into place.

* * *

I scratch my stubbly jaw. The universe wants to delay my trip. When I got home from planning the memorial, I found an email informing me that my flight from the island to Seattle had been canceled. I’ll need to take the ferry to the mainland instead. An hour later, I get another email saying my flight to Japan’s been canceled too. I do some research, but all the other direct flights are full. With connecting flights, it’ll take me over twenty-four hours to get there. No, thanks.

Oh! I could ask Sam to fly me to Seattle with his helicopter. He loves to fly, but I don’t want to bother him. I roll my neck from one shoulder to the other. Another idea pops into my head, and I quickly check flights for another day.

Yes. This could work. It’s approaching five o’clock now, and I haven’t heard from Olive. Is that good or bad? I rub my hands up and down my thighs. What should I do? I need to book these plane tickets now. My gut says to do it, so I click the purchase button. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll be home longer than expected. But if it does… I shoot Olive a text.

Me: I haven’t heard from you. I hope everything is okay. It’s been a long day. I’ve got a surprise for you. I’m home for the rest of the night.

While I’m waiting for her to call, I double-check when the Super Bowl is and compare it to my work schedule. I really want to spend that weekend with her and meet her brother.

I also need to touch base with my boss. We talked before the holidays, and everything was on track for what they expect from me. Things are different now. My life is about to drastically change. This will be my final article for the magazine. I plan to tell Mom that I want the manager’s position, but I have to make sure it works for Olive and aligns with our endgame first.

Me, making plans for a personal life? It’s an anomaly. I’ve been in limbo, but this woman with cappuccino eyes and a heart the size of Texas has pulled me out. The life I envision with her makes me want to start it right now.

It’s been an emotionally draining day. I’m antsy and need something to do. I throw on some sweatpants and head over to the gym.

Twenty minutes in, I’m drenched and struggling to breathe. This is the hardest I’ve pushed myself on the treadmill. When Olive’s name appears on my screen, I brace myself on the sides and pull the emergency cord.

I’ll always stop what I’m doing for her.

32

OLIVE

Iclose my apartment door and lean against it, dropping my purse on the floor. I’m wrung out. Today’s therapy session was heart-wrenching, and I didn’t expect that. Our first session was introductory, but today, she dove right in and used every second of those forty-five minutes. And we only discussed my time in LA! Don’t even ask me how I got two appointments a few days apart because I asked myself the same question. Fate?

I appreciated the therapist’s soft, empathetic manner and how she didn’t ask me “how I felt” about any of it. I also liked that she had a motherly presence. I’ll stick with her for now and see how it goes.

I wish Leo could be here waiting for me. We’d cuddle up on the couch, enjoy a glass of wine together, and talk about our day.Soon, Olive.

I load the wash, then pour a large glass of white wine and settle in to rewatch the second season ofBridgerton. Before I start the show, I unpack and set up the cell phone stand I bought earlier today, propping my phone on it. Messages from Leo and Andy appear on the screen. They’re from hours ago.

I read Leo’s message first, and my heart skips a beat. He has a surprise for me! I don’t bother responding and video-call him instead as I get comfy on the recliner. After a few rings, he appears on the screen breathing heavily; his face is bright red. He lifts his finger for me to wait a minute. I watch closely as he drinks water from his bottle. His hair is in a sexy, sweaty, messy bun, with frizzy ringlets sticking out around his face. His biceps bulge and his light gray tank top clings to his body. I want to rip it off him. How can I wait weeks until I can touch him again?

I groan. “You’re such a jerk. You’re too damn attractive and I can’t enjoy it in person. There better not be any women in there.”

His mouth turns up into a comical, cocky grin. “Give me a second. I need to cool down and catch my breath, but when you look at me like that, it won’t be possible.”

“I’m trying to decide whether you look hotter now or when you were in the sauna. This is torture.”

He dries his face and neck while walking slowly on the treadmill. “I aim to please. Let’s keep this conversation PG in case someone comes in. I don’t want any guests to see me with a raging hard-on.”

I smirk. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we? Do you want to call me back?”

“Nope. I was killing time and burning some lingering energy. Let’s talk.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your message. I must’ve had network problems—I didn’t see it until a couple minutes ago.”

He steps off the treadmill, then sits on the closest workout bench, somehow maneuvering the phone so I can see him. “It’s all good. We’ve both had busy days. It’ll be worse when I’m traveling. Japan is a sixteen-hour time difference.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. Now tell me what the surprise is?” I lift my wineglass to my mouth.

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