Page 69 of Nine Months to Love
The answer is I don’t know. Because I wasn’t inside their relationship. I only saw what they let me see.
Just like Stefan only saw what his parents let him see.
I press my forehead against my knees. The truth is, I wanted to believe Natalia. If there was more to the story than Stefan’sblack and white version, then maybe there was still a way to find a happy ending that he’d sworn he could never reach. Because if his mother had reasons for what she did, if his father wasn’t perfect, then maybe Stefan’s darkness isn’t inevitable.
And if his darkness isn’t inevitable, then maybe there’s hope for us.
Or maybe I’m exactly what he says I am: a selfish, conniving, naive little girl meddling in things she does not and cannot ever understand.
I pick up another strawberry from the tray, then set it back down. It no longer looks as fresh and wholesome as it did a few minutes ago.
And I’m not so hungry anymore.
23
OLIVIA
I pick up the phone Stefan gave me and retreat to the deck, as far from the cabin as I can get without actually jumping into the ocean. Which, honestly, I’m considering.
The sun’s higher now, warm on my face. I sit on one of the padded benches and stare at the box in my hands.
Just open it, you coward. Turn it on. Face the world.
The plastic wrapping comes off easily. The phone itself is sleek, expensive, state-of-the-art. I hold down the power button and watch the screen light up.
Within seconds, notifications start flooding in. Messages, missed calls, voicemails. The digital equivalent of a dam breaking.
Camille’s name appears over and over. I tap on her messages first.
Where are you???
Liv, seriously, call me
Your mom keeps calling the clinic. She sounds pissed.
Please just let me know you’re alive
I type back quickly:I’m fine. Sorry for going dark.
Her reply comes almost immediately, like she’s been living by the phone just so she doesn’t miss me:THANK GOD. Where the hell have you been?
Long story. I’ll explain when I see you.
You freaking better. I’m dying here.
I close out of Camille’s messages and scroll to my mother’s. Thirty missed calls. Seven voicemails. My stomach twists.
I tap the first voicemail.
“Olivia, it’s your mother. Call me back immediately.”
The second one: “I don’t know why you’re ignoring me, but it’s incredibly rude. I raised you better than this.”
The third voicemail starts playing and my mother’s voice fills my ear, warm and congratulatory in a way that makes my skin crawl because of just how fucking fake I know it is.
“Darling, I just heard the news from Brian Thompson. The Mass Gen board chose you for the partnership! I’m so proud. This is exactly what you’ve been working toward.”
Honestly, I almost forgot about that. The board chose me. I got the partnership.
