Page 83 of Love on the Vine
“No, you don’t understand. What I love is feeding people. It’s more than a passion. It’s how I want to spend my days.” I bit my lip to stop it from trembling. I couldn’t lose my nerve now. “I’m not going to Chicago. I was accepted into a culinary program in Paris. It starts in September.”
His arms dropped away, and he looked like I’d stabbed him with his Swiss Army knife. “Liv, this doesn’t make any sense. You’re going to give up on one of the top law schools in the country to go sling pots and pans around in a kitchen? No.”
He stomped back over to pick up his backpack. “You’re not thinking clearly. Come on, let’s go back to the apartment and talk about it.”
“There’s really nothing to discuss. I can’t do it anymore.” Tears started to flow down my cheeks again. “Ever since I came to live with you and Kirsten, I’ve only ever wanted to make you proud of me. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I can’t sacrifice my happiness to be your perfect daughter.”
I covered my face with my hands, and then he was back at my side, taking me into his arms. “Liv, I don’t want you to sacrifice anything for me. And no matter what you do, you’ll always be my perfect daughter. Even if you moved back into the house and played video games on the couch all day, I’d still love you. I’mjust trying to understand, okay? Let me wrap my head around all this.”
He handed me a bottle of water, and then sat and listened while I explained everything to him through my tears—how much food meant to me, how I’d gotten the idea to apply to Ferrandi, how I had been so afraid to hurt his feelings by being honest with him.
I sniffled and leaned my head against his chest. “You’re not disappointed?”
“Well, maybe just a bit confused. I wish you’d talked about all this with me before.”
“I wanted to, but I could never get my nerve up.” I buried my head in my hands. “And I’m sorry about the apartment. But I did tell you not to do it.”
He squeezed me. “It’s an investment. Kirsten and I love going to Chicago. The boys might use it someday.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I laughed imagining them grown up and living on their own in the big city, majoring in apocalypse studies.
“Now, let’s go talk about how this is going to work. I’m assuming you’re planning on rooming with Callie?” With his arm around me, we walked back toward our rental car.
For the first time since I’d left Jake, I could breathe. I just wished I could share the news with him.
Chapter 28
JAKE
The house was oppressively quiet. I slumped down on the couch and switched on the TV, pretending to watch the cheesy French detective series flashing on the screen just so the background noise would drown out the infernal buzzing in my head.
It was midday on a weekday, and I was watching the goddamn TV. I’d reached a new personal low.
The problem was I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’d already spent the morning in pointless meetings, then tinkering with the car. I was even considering replastering the ceiling in one of the guest rooms.
It had been like this since Olivia had left, every hour of the day trickling by like molasses. The nights were even worse—empty, lonely, desolate. I slept in the guest room because I couldn’t be alone in my own bed anymore.
It still seemed so surreal. One minute I’d been as close to her as possible, deep inside her, and then the next I was giving her a peck on the cheek and telling her goodbye.
Every day I was determined not to let myself think about her, but that was impossible when everything reminded me of her. The scent of lavender from the garden, the occasional scribbled recipe I’d find tucked into a book. I avoided the kitchen andcouldn’t bring myself to open the fridge because I knew it would be full of food that she’d made. I never went out on the terrace where I’d first kissed her, and where she’d stared at me like I’d ripped her heart out the day she left.
I’d said all the wrong things that day. I knew I had. But I wasn’t lying when I told her I didn’t know how to be with someone else, to have them depend on me.
This was why I didn’t do relationships, I reminded myself day after day. But even that familiar refrain rang hollow. Because, goddammit, every cell in my body longed for her. I couldn’t shake it. It was confusing and destabilizing as hell. It made me feel like a desperate little kid again, and I’d do just about anything to never feel that way.
The sound of pottery clattering to the floor had me rushing outside to investigate. That damn tomcat had knocked his bowl of water over and was sitting on the table glaring at me. He did nothing but glare at me since Olivia had left.
“What?” I grumbled at him. “She was always going to leave. You shouldn’t have gotten so attached.”
I tried shooing him away, but he just sat there blinking at me and flicking his tail.
“Fine,” I said, closing the door on him.
When I walked back into the kitchen a few minutes later, I found Chantal cleaning out the refrigerator. She clucked and shook her head at me as she sniffed the food that I’d let go bad, tossing it into a garbage bag at her feet.
“Mais quel gâchis!” She was right to complain about the waste. I couldn’t justify it, so I ignored her and poured a glass of water, gulping it down in one go.
“Where is Olivia?” She asked. “I wanted to invite her over for dinner tomorrow night.”
