Page 143 of All The Happily Ever Afters

She hums in satisfaction, but she still doesn’t sleep. I could bore her to sleep, talking about the merger that just went through and how the company is sky rocketing, the stocks booming. She’d listen to it all, with the same expression she gives me now, as if I’m her beloved Prince Charming.

“I don’t want to sleep,” she finally breaks the silence.

“What do you want for Christmas, Olivia?” I ask her, running my thumb down the curve of her neck and feeling the pull of my lips into a smirk when she shivers.

Naked and tired, Olivia stretches lazily and then sidles up closer to me under the sheets, “More of this,” she answers and I have to keep my expression the same, unmoving, so she doesn’t see the loss I feel deep inside. Her eyes are closed, but I don’t want to risk her seeing.

“Nothing else?” I question, knowing she isn’t going to get more of these meet ups. Not for a while at least with all of the changes coming.

Slowly peeking up at me, her hazel eyes a mix of wildfire and calming ocean shores, “Fine, all I want is a kiss.” Her voice is soft and her hand on my chest even softer. Leaning down to kiss her, I let the kiss linger, waiting for her to hum in approval. She does and I knew she would. I love that sound. I love how easily she kisses me.

“I hate that I have to leave you tomorrow,” she says it so easily, so used to it. She’s alright with what we have. She would be fine with this for as long as I let it happen.

“Hopefully I’ll see you soon,” I answer her and her eyes open, staring at my chest rather than meeting my gaze.

“Do you know when that will be?” she questions.

I hate that I have to answer her the way I do, “No,” I tell her.

I bet she thinks she’s gotten away with hiding her disappointment, but I see it. “That’s alright,” she tells me, even though I know she feels that same ache in her chest I do at the thought of not having another night like this planned. She can’t say goodbye so easily.

Her pointer traces my collarbone when she whispers what we’ve told each other every time for years now, “It’s never goodbye. Only until next time.”

OLIVIA

“Why do I choose the walk of shame?”

Nick’s first response to my groggy morning question is a rough chuckle that jostles the bed. “I can go get your things,” he offers, “Or Autumn can bring them?”

I shake my head, brushing my cheek against his firm chest before resting my head back against him, “It’s okay, I’ll walk it with pride,” I answer with a simper and lightheartedness.

The early morning sun is peeking in and I check the clock to find it’s nearly eight. Last night filters in as my eyes adjust to morning and the easy rest in Nick’s bed changes into the reality that I need to leave it and I may never share one with him again.

“You’re really leaving?” I question but I didn’t mean to. The disbelief simply slipped out.

He breathes in deep and his chest moves with it, so I remove myself from the cozy spot and sit up, covering myself with the sheets. As I do, the ache between my thighs intensifies. I’ll feel him for days.

“Yeah, just one night this time. I have to get somethings settled,” Nick doesn’t look at me as he talks, instead he reaches for the bottle of water on the nightstand and hands it to me.

“Thanks,” I tell him and my smile is weak. I drink down as many gulps as I can, trying to pause the unwanted thoughts filtering through my mind.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” I look up into Nick’s steely blues to find them riddled with concern. “Fine,” I lie. “I just have to get going.”

With the excuse spilled, I gather the sheets, pushing them out of the way and search for my dress and underwear.

“You don’t have to go. We can order in breakfast,” he offers but there’s no hope in his voice.

I was already a drink down last night, but still. How did I go to bed with him one last time, knowing that he was leaving? How did I think I could do it? Stay here with him and say goodbye?

I struggle with my strap and Nick climbs out of bed, still naked and in all his glory to help me.

“Olivia,” his voice is gentle. “You don’t have to run off,” he whispers at my neck and then pulls my back into his chest.

“I’m not running off,” I lie. “I just need a shower and to prepare.”

I turn around, conscious of the fact that I haven’t brushed my teeth. I usually use his toothbrush, but I also typically stay. This morning isn’t typical. I can feel that in my bones.

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