Page 47 of Olivia's Only Pretending
I trailed behind him in my baggy gray sweatpants. “I told you to go have fun.”
He set the load down on the kitchen table. “I think I’ve made it pretty obvious by now that I don’t find anything more fun than hanging out with you.” He turned to me. “You haven’t even had a cup of coffee yet, have you?”
“Okay, no, but I have showered.” I pointed to my wet hair.
He placed the warm cup in my hand. I could smell the spicy sweetness of a dirty chai latte. My whole body responded as I took a sip.
He patted a takeout bag. “I got you a big breakfast sandwich. Google said you need iron.”
My stomach growled in response. I glanced at a box on the table. “Chocolates?”
“Growing up, my dad always got my mom a box of her favorite chocolates when it was her time of the month.”
I smiled. That sounded like Linda and David. I could imagine little Victor watching his dad pick out his mom’s favorite chocolate at the grocery store.
I chuckled when I spotted tampons and pads. He followed my gaze.
“I wasn’t sure what you like or need.” He shrugged. “I also got a bottle of Midol. Google recommended that, too.”
I set my cup down, rubbed the soft fuzzy socks from the bag, and looked through the pile of my favorite snacks.
An image of Victor throwing everything into his grocery basket, hurrying through the store to get here quickly so I didn’t get too hungry, popped into my mind.
I felt my heart tug in my chest. I threw my arms around his neck. He held me tight against him. With his big hands against my back, I could feel his heart beating through his white T-shirt.
“You’re too good to be true sometimes,” I said into his chest. I felt tears spring to my eyes at the truth of it. He was so good. Sometimes, it scared me. Like if I relaxed into it too much or held onto it too tight, it’d burst. I’d lose it just like that.
“Nah, you deserve someone to get you food when you’re hungry and don’t feel good. Simple as that, Liv.” He reached over for the takeout bag and plopped it into my hands.
Victor retrieved my heating pad from upstairs, and we set up a cozy spot in the living room. I’d nestled under one of my favorite throw blankets when he said, “Wait,” and ran back to the kitchen. He came back with the fuzzy orange socks.
“Do those have pumpkins on them?” I asked.
He nodded. “I thought they were festive.” He grabbed my feet, slipping them on me.
“I can put my own socks on.” I giggled.
“Again, I know you’re a fully capable woman. I just like to help you.”
“Help me put socks on?”
“Help with anything.” He shrugged a shoulder.
He was already making me feel better. “I am getting a big preview of what an overprotective dad you’re going to be.”
He grinned at that comment, his eyes crinkling in that way that made my stomach flip.
We bickered over movie choices like we always did. Victor thought we should watch something new, but I wanted an old comforting favorite. I won. We watchedTitanic, and I sobbed into the tissue box in my lap, while Victor ranted for a good ten minutes about how they could’ve shared the door.
I shared my chocolate with Victor. We ordered Chinese for dinner and ate straight out of the containers, side by side on the couch.
His jacket was thrown over my dining table. His sneakers were on the ground by the door. His arm was slung behind me on the couch. Victor invaded all of my spaces.
How had our lives become so intertwined?
My heart felt that familiar tug. A tug I never felt brave enough to examine, even though I knew I should. If I was giving advice to my younger sisters, I would ask them,and what do you think that feeling means?
But in moments like this, I didn’t want to mess any of it up. It felt delicate, like when someone falls asleep on your shoulder and you try to stay perfectly still to not ruin the moment. For months now, I’d been holding still in every way that mattered, trying to keep my feelings still, my thoughts still. I didn’t want to ruinthis.I didn’t want to wake up.
