One week later
I feel like an idiot.
Me: Am I an idiot?
Kieran: Yes, but not for this.
Me: You sure?
Kieran: I snorted coke in the presence of an EMT. Why are you asking me if you’re an idiot?
I’m too busy laughing at my phone to do the very thing I came to Philadelphia to do. It’s only when Olivia blurts out, “Davis?” that I snap back to attention.
Yeah, I’m an idiot.
She’s standing a few feet away, looking like the still point of the turning world. “What are you doing here?” she questions as she looks me over.
Based on the coffee in her hand and the tote bag on her shoulders, I guess that she’s on her way to class or to study. Jeans. A t-shirt. It’s nice to see her looking so normal for once instead of wearing business casual or in the lingerie that I bought for her. Suddenly, all I want to know is what she wears when she goes to the gym or when she’s grocery shopping or even just hanging around on a lazy Sunday morning. I’ve never gotten the casual, quiet moments with her; I want them more than anything.
“I needed to see you,” I explain, not exactly answering her question.
“Me?”
“Why would I ever want to see anyone else?” I take a step closer to her, aware that we’re standing outside of her apartment on the streets of Philadelphia—hardly the most romantic setting we’ve ever been in together.
Doesn’t matter. We’re both here.
Olivia is still standing with her arms folded cautiously over her chest, her phone clutched in one hand, and her Starbucks cup in another. “What are you talking about?”
“I made a mistake,” I say before I pause and draw back. “Actually, that’s wrong. I didn’t make a mistake. I think you did. You told me that you didn’t want to be with me, which—objectively—was a huge mistake. But then I made the mistake of believing you when it clearly wasn’t true.”
She lets out a small scoff. She’s about to speak when I take yet another step towards her and bend to speak to her with our faces close.
“I love you,” I tell her, keeping my eyes focused on hers. “I love you, Olivia Leigh Nolan. I think I’ve loved you for eight years. You make me feel so…I don’t even know how to say it.”
“That’s okay,” she interjects, just as I’m about to start cursing myself for not doing a better job preparing for this. “Really, Davis, it’s okay. I know.”
“You do?”
“I make you feel comfortable in your own skin. With who you are. We don’t have to be embarrassed or put on airs around each other. We can just be honest.”
“Yeah,” I say gracelessly. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. How did you know that?”
“It’s how you make me feel,” she admits as she takes another step closer to me so that we’re nearly touching. “But I haven’t changed my mind, Davis. I still need time.”
“I hate time. I waited eight years to see you again. This time, I could only wait eight days. If you walk away right now, it’ll only be eight minutes before I’m on my knees and begging you to recognize that I love you. I love you. I love your mind and your ambition and I love that you’re somewhat of an asshole, but in the funniest, frankest way possible.”
Olivia’s green eyes narrow slightly. “Did you seriously just call me an asshole?”
“Yeah,” I acknowledge. “On the Amtrak over here, I spent an hour thinking about what I would do when I found you, and apparently that was the sweetest thing I could come up with.”
For some reason, my mention of Amtrak makes both of her eyes widen. Without warning, she pitches her nearly-full cup of coffee to the side where it splatters on the sidewalk. Boldly, she wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. “I love you too,” she responds before she rises on her toes. She kisses me hard. “Of course I love you. But you promised me.”
She loves me.
It’s the first time a woman has ever said those words to me, and I realize that I’m not much different than my brother. This was what I wanted. Deep down, this was what I likely waited so long to experience. Love. The real definition for that simple and yet exceedingly complex feeling that arises between two people who have felt electricity between them since the moment they laid eyes on each other.
She loves me, and I love her. Holy shit, do I love her.
I move her in my arms so that I can take her hands. “I know I promised that I would give you space, but let’s make a deal instead.”
“A deal?” she replies, brow raised. “Does everything have to be a deal?”
“I’m a businessman,” I remind her needlessly. “And so are you. Businesswoman. We’re businesspeople…you get the picture.”
Olivia lets out a soft smile, somehow still enamored with my awkward fumbling after all this time. “Keep going,” she encourages me.
“Graduate. Get a job that you’re proud to have. During that time, I’ll resist every instinct in my body and I’ll be your friend—and nothing more. You won’t get a dime out of me, I won’t make you any promises, and I won’t pull any strings for you. I’ll just be your freakishly hot friend named Davis. How does that sound?”
Smiling, she winds her arms around the back of my neck and presses one last kiss on my lips—for the time being.
“It sounds like we have a deal.”