Page 4 of Time To Live Again

“What am I supposed to do now,” she wails.Seriously?

My heart rate spikes to a record high. “I’m being selfish?Me? Not everything is about you, Mom. Yeah, I could’ve told you sooner, but you would’ve done everything possible to convince me it was a bad idea. Like everything else I’ve tried to do to get me out of this funk. This is a birthday present to myself. Do something with Andy—he’s right there with you!”

I’m no longer cold from the brisk, damp weather outside. I tug off the forest green scarf that’s smothering me like a boa constrictor and toss it over my lap.

“Since when do you talk to me this way? Where did this come from? Did I do something wrong?”

Andy clears his throat in the background like he wants to say something, but I answer first. “No, Mom. Well, not directly,” I mumble.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Before this gets really heated, I continue. “Listen, I’m done here. You heard what I had to say. I don’t want to talk anymore. Give me the space I want and need. It’ll be the best birthday present for me. I can’tthinkwith you hovering over me all the time. I’m not a child.”

“Well, you’re certainly acting like one,” she fires back. “Running away like a little girl.”

I grab the pillow next to me and squeeze it like a stress ball. “No. If anyone’s being a child, it’s you. You can’t handle me doing something without your knowledge. And what I’m doing is taking control of my life again. I’m thirty and not proud of who I’ve become or how I’m living. A milestone birthday and the start of a new year is perfect for making changes. It’s time for me to live again.”

“You go, girl,” Andy cheers. Mom mutters something to him I can’t distinguish. I hear a scuffle, then Andy whines, “Ouch.Olive, Mom hit me!” He lays it on thick. I love him to death.

“Stop playing games, Andrew,” Mom warns.

Boisterous laughter in the lobby catches my attention. I turn my head to see what’s going on and cover my mouth. How loud was I? I hope they didn’t hear me. A woman and man are standing by the Christmas tree watching something on a phone. They guffaw again and slap their hands over their mouths.When’s the last time I laughed like that?

Even from a distance, I’m drawn to the guy’s beautiful hair. It’s thick with loose, shoulder-length, ruffled curls. I try to avert my gaze, but I can’t. Long hair on men is a weakness of mine. If only I could see his face. Quick glimpses of his profile are all I get from this angle. The man peeks around the Christmas tree, searching for someone or something near the front desk. He shakes his head and pulls on the woman’s sleeve, then they sneak away, giggling.

Once they’re out of sight, I drop my head back again. Sadness washes over my tired body, loneliness trailing behind.

“Olivia, are you listening to me?” And Olivia it is again.

“Not really.”

“Well, I won’t repeat myself other than your uncle is going to be very disappointed in you.” He won’t care because he’s part of the reason I left. There’s going to be a handful of people there, mostly Uncle Bruce’s friends and employees. Andy’s only going to this party to ease the blow after my escape. I won’t be missing anything.

“Uncle Bruce already knows.”

She gasps. “Bruce knows? Wow…that hurts, Olivia. That really hurts.” Her voice cracks.

“Don’t cry, Mom. I’m not trying to upset you.” A sniffle travels through the line. I clear my throat.Stay strong.Guilt loves to torture me. “It’s time for you to live again too. I’m not the only one who needs a change. You need to find yourself, and it won’t work if we’re constantly together. It’s time to stand on your own two feet. That hasn’t happened since you married Dad over thirty-five years ago.”

Someone enters the room. I glance over and catch my breath. It’s the guy who was by the Christmas tree. His large friendly eyes are a unique shade of honey that complement his gorgeous wild hair. Hints of copper in the golden-brown mane shimmer under the overhead lighting like a regal lion’s mane. I could admire him all day?—

Well…as long as I don’t look below his nose. What’s with the horrendous mustache? I know they’re trying to make a comeback, but this doesn’t suit him at all. Granted, it’s not dominant on his face because of the color, but still.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says with a velvety tone, then points to the fireplace. “This needs some attention.” Ooh, his voice is sexy as sin, creating even more of a delicious distraction. I nod and watch him place a couple of logs on the fire. My attention’s fully on him, not my mom blubbering on the phone. He grabs a poker and shifts the wood. Dislodged ashes fly up the chimney, and embers fall onto the marble hearth.

I prop my elbow on the armrest, cradle my head in my hand, and enjoy the delightfully unexpected view. “Hey, Mom, I need to go. I’m sorry again for escaping last minute on my birthday and New Year’s, but I need to get checked in here.”

She huffs. “All right. None of this sits well with me. I’m not even sure I’ll go to the party tonight now. I don’t like that you’re alone and won’t tell me where you are. Can you at least tell me when you’ll be back?”

“In a week.”

“A week?” she shouts. I pull the phone away from my ear. You’d think I said a month. “Seven days? What about your job?”

Lion Guy peeks over his shoulder at me, a subtle crease between his eyebrows. I guess he heard her too. Our eyes connect, and I think he’s concerned. I look away quickly, embarrassed.

I give her a couple seconds to vent, then interrupt. “My job is not your concern, and yes—a week. Accept it. Can you please do that for me?”

I finished my last project a couple of days before Christmas. The next one starts in February. Free time is all I have, and I’m going to use it for more than sitting in sweatpants twenty-four hours a day, streaming romance movies, and fantasizing about some dream guy arriving at my apartment as if I’d ordered him from DoorDash.

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