The Pickup (Imperfect Love 1)

The room goes quiet, quickly realizing Olivia’s drunken silliness has turned serious. “All right, my drunken princess. Let’s get you to bed before your chariot turns back into a pumpkin.” I grab her hips and guide her toward our room.

“Yes!” she squeals. “But that’s Cinderella! I’m Aurora!”

Twenty-Seven

Olivia

I wake up with the most intense, pounding headache I’ve ever experienced in my life. When I open my eyes, I glance next to me and see the bed is empty. Noticing a ripped piece of paper on the pillow, I snag it, and with only one eye open, read it.

Good morning Princess Aurora, I’ve left you a glass of water and two Advil in case you need them. I have Reed with me. Take a bath and relax. Come down when you’re ready.

–Your Prince ;)

After I’ve taken the pain meds he left for me and soaked in a hot bubble bath, I make my way downstairs. Everybody is sitting around the table talking, and when they see me, they all go quiet and then crack up laughing.

I look down to make sure I’m dressed appropriately. No nip slips…“What?”

“Nothing, Princess Aurora.” Giselle giggles, and Celeste throws her head back in laughter.

“Ha ha. Very funny,” I say dryly, which only has them laughing harder. Why? I’m not sure.

Giselle’s phone rings, and she stands up, excusing herself to the other room to take the call.

I walk over to Nick to sit down next to him, but before I can sit, he pulls me into his lap. “Good morning, baby,” he murmurs into my neck.

“Morning. Where’s Reed?”

“Taking a nap.” He sniffs my hair. “You smell good. Did you take a bubble bath?”

“I did. Thank you. So, why was everyone laughing?”

“You don’t remember last night?” Killian asks.

“Going to the club?” I question.

“No.” He shakes his head. “When we got home.”

I try to remember, but I can’t. “The alcohol must’ve hit me hard since I haven’t drank in over a year,” I admit.

“Don’t worry about it, babe,” Nick says. “All you need to know is that you, Celeste, and Giselle are all princesses and—”

“Umm…Olivia…I need to go.” Giselle comes back into the dining room, looking pale and worried. “And I don’t have a car. I came here with Killian…Shit!”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“My dad left my mom. My sister just texted me that she came home for the weekend. She planned to leave this morning, but when she woke up, my dad was gone. I need to get there. You know how my mom is…”

“I know. Why don’t you take Nick’s car? We can ride home with Killian or my parents…”

“I’ll drive you,” Killian offers.

Giselle gives him a once over. “I have to go to my parents’ house in Rye. It’s going to be a good two-hour drive there, and another hour drive back to Brooklyn, and I don’t even know how long I’ll be there for. Could be a few hours… if she lets me in, that is.” She cringes at her last sentence, and my heart breaks for Giselle and the rocky relationship she has with her parents.

“Then we better get moving.” Killian walks back out of the room without waiting for Giselle to respond.

We spend the rest of the day out back. It’s warm enough to grill outside, so my dad and Nick grill up some chicken and steak while Corrine, Celeste, and I make up some sides. We eat outside on the back patio while Reed naps. Afterward, Corrine offers to watch Reed while Nick and I go for a walk.

“I love the ocean, but I hate the sand and the salt water,” I admit as I toe the sand.

Nick chuckles. “I’m pretty sure without the salt water and the sand you have a pool.”

“Oh…well, whatever.” I laugh.

“I looked up some schools this morning while you were asleep.” Nick reaches down and picks up a stick that’s washed ashore.

“And what did you find?”

“A couple schools where I can take all my classes online, but I was hoping to take the writing classes on campus. The problem is I don’t know where I’ll be, so I’m going to have to wait until I find out who I’m playing for next season.”

“That makes sense.” I sit down while Nick, using the stick he picked up, writes in the sand. “Until then you could do something you enjoy, like writing for fun.”

Nick stops drawing in the sand. “What do you mean? Like write a book?”

“Sure, why not? You don’t need a degree to write.”

Nick comes over and sits behind me, his legs outstretched on either side of my body and his arms wrapping around me. “I also think I’m going to get more involved in the charity my mom runs for me.”

“You have a charity? What is it for?”

“Promoting literacy in kids. I started it a few years ago when my publicist said it would look good. I used to go to different schools and read to classes in lower income schools.”