Page 25 of Olivia's Only Pretending
“Honestly, some of the kids have actually drawn some parallels toward what we’re studying and learning with some of the romances we’re reading. It’s been fun to hear it pop up in our book club chats.” I felt myself talking quicker in that way I did when someone got me started on something I was passionate about.
“I love that, Dr. Rhodes. It’s been fun to see some of the ways academia is starting to utilize and embrace popular culture. Here it is popping up naturally on campus.” She smiled, thensomeone across the room caught her eye. She raised a hand to them. “It’s been nice to chat and nice to meet you.” She smiled at Victor. “I have someone over there I need to talk to.”
She hurried away in her heels.
I spun to Victor. “I’m so relieved she loved the idea of our book club.” I laughed breathlessly. “I would go down swinging for that club.”
“See? You totally undersell yourself,” he said, shaking my shoulders in faux frustration, grinning down at me. “Olivia Rhodes, you have such good ideas. Such good instincts.”
“Like bringing you as my date?” The words tumbled out. Stupid fizz.
He chuckled. “Like your passion about this book club. Follow your passion, Liv. It ends up bringing good things into your life.”
Like it brought me to this school. And to my book club. And to my historical house.
And to Victor.
“Passion has always scared me,” I confessed, my voice soft, as if I couldn’t quite commit to sharing this with him. The room was loud around us.
“Your dad?”
Victor knew. He’d heard my stories. Most of my life,passionhad sounded impulsive and reckless to me, like when I was eight years old and my dad packed up one night and left my mom and sisters. Mom had always described Dad aspassionate. She’d said he was just too passionate. He couldn’t be tied down.
So, I didn’t have any use for passion or recklessness while growing up. Better yet, I had an aversion to it.
I’d spent most of my life searching for the opposite of my father. Where he had been reckless, I sought structure. While he’d left my family, I stayed.
I looked for what had put the pieces of our family back together after he broke us—and my mom. She rebuilt a life for usthrough long night shifts, raising three girls on a nurse’s salary, and sheer willpower. Her steady presence, fierce commitment, and fastidious work ethic—that was my blueprint.
I found comfort in my mirrored work ethic. My own planner was clutched tight. My to-do lists and routine were something I could rely on.
I liked that my job didn’t rely on whims or feelings. It revolved around things you could rely on, like research, facts, and best of all,history. History stayed still. It wasn’t going anywhere. Most of my colleagues and I had committed our entire work lives to a specific era. We were a committed bunch—no flights of fancy. No changing our minds.
Victor cleared his throat, waking me from my thoughts. “It surprises me. You’re obviously passionate about history, you know.” His voice was as soft, gentle as mine had been. I leaned in closer to hear him.
“I guess that’s one way to describe it.” The room was warm, crowded. Someone bumped into me with an apologetic wince.
“Maybe your dad was passionate. He was also selfish. And dumb. Those were probably his worst problems.”
“Immature, too,” I added. That was another way my mom had always described him.
“Plus, your mom is always passionate.”
My brows furrowed. I wasn’t sure I agreed. I also wasn’t sure this party was the place for our conversation.
“About you and your sisters—she’s themostpassionate. All of you Rhodes women are.” He took a sip of his drink, giving me a beat to process.
I chewed on my lip, Victor’s tender gaze on me. “I guess I just like to do my research first.”
“Yeah, yeah. I love my little bookworm. But don’t mistake stagnation for preparation, Liv.”
His words sliced through, a knife between my ribs. I looked up, mouth agape.
“I want to see you—” But before he could finish his thought, we were interrupted.
“Well, hello,” Ryan said, his eyes on me, his back toward Victor. He followed my eyes past his shoulder toward Victor. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hey, man.” Victor lifted his chin, hands in his pockets.
