The Million-Dollar Question, page 10
I’ll pick you up at your place on my way home. 6:30-ish.
The rest of the afternoon dragged by.
Broiled chicken and steamed veggies. It wasn’t exciting, but Olivia was forcing him to eat better these days. Well, not forcing—she actually hadn’t said anything about his diet—but a man could only eat junk while his dinner partner ate healthy so many times before guilt set in. He’d buckled under in less than a week. Olivia still hadn’t said anything, but she’d smirked when he told her tonight’s menu.
“It’s ready,” he called, setting the plates on the coffee table. Olivia came out of the bedroom in yoga pants and a tank top, braiding her hair as she walked.
“Good, I’m starved. Thank you for cooking.”
As she settled beside him, he noticed her bright pink socks. “Are you cold?”
She paused, a forkful of chicken partway to her mouth. “No. Why?” He indicated the socks and she shrugged. “Oh, that. I’ve just got ugly feet.”
He honestly hadn’t paid that much attention to her feet before—he’d been too busy focusing on other, more interesting parts of her anatomy. “They can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, yeah they can. This is yummy, by the way.”
He’d seen pointe shoes. There was no way they didn’t do bad things to her feet. “Let me see them.”
She crossed her legs, tucking her feet under her thighs. “No way.”
“Come on,” he cajoled. She shook her head and took a bite. “I’m going to see them eventually.”
“Maybe. But not now. It’ll kill your appetite.”
“One of my first jobs in college was at a restaurant. I cooked, washed dishes, scrubbed the grills. It tore my hands up.”
“My parents own a restaurant. I’m well aware of what it does to your hands.”
He put his fork down. “Well, my first college girlfriend dumped me because she said my hands were troll-like, and she didn’t like them touching her.”
“What a witch.”
“True, but my point is, I understand.”
“Look, even I think my feet are gross. I’m not showing them off. No,” she added when he started to protest. “End of subject.”
“It’s not like I can’t sneak a peek later.”
“That’s up to you. I can warn you, but I can’t stop you.” She shook her head. “You might regret it, though.”
“You’ve got some weird hang-ups,” he mumbled.
She smiled at him angelically. “Everyone’s crazy in their own special way. The trick is to find the person who thinks your special brand of crazy is kinda cute.”
“You’ve got a special brand there, that’s for sure,” he mumbled toward his chicken.
“Where did you work?”
He let her change the subject, since she obviously felt strongly about it. “The Carousel.”
“That place on the beach where the waitresses wear bikinis?”
“That’s the one. How do you know about The Carousel?”
“Who in Florida doesn’t know about that place? It’s legendary. I never got to go, of course, but I’ve heard stories from friends and other people who went to Jacksonville for spring break.” She shook her head. “Wow. When you decided to rebel against your upbringing, you went all out, didn’t you? Dancing, drinking, women, working in a place like that. Were you trying to mark off all seven deadly sins or just break half the Ten Commandments?”
“I had a punch card. Every tenth sin earned me a free ice cream cone to enjoy in my front row seat in hell.”
“So much for a ‘civilized’ rebellion.”
“It takes more than a few dance lessons to really rebel.”
“What did your parents think?”
“I didn’t tell them anything, but this girl from high school was also going to school in Jacksonville and come summer break, she went home and told everyone all my sins.”
She shook her head in sympathy. “I hate people like that.”
“Me, too. My father threatened to disown me, my mother cried because they were so embarrassed I’d turned my back on everything they’d tried to teach me. Big drama.”
“But look at you now. You’re certainly doing well for yourself. They can’t be too upset with how you turned out.”
He shrugged.
“They’re not? Why?”
“Honestly, I have no idea if they are or not. I don’t even know if they know how I turned out. I haven’t been back to Arrowwood since the day I left, and I haven’t spoken to my parents in ten, maybe eleven, years.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Of course Olivia would think that a tragedy. She had great parents. “I’m not. It’s better this way. Everyone’s much happier, I promise.”
Carefully, she asked, “So there’s no chance for reconciliation?”
He leaned back and studied her. “Show me your feet.”
“What?”
“If you want to talk about my parents, you have to show me your feet. It’s only fair if we both do something we don’t want to.”
She actually seemed to consider it. “Point taken. I won’t pry anymore. But I am sorry you have unreasonable and judgmental parents.”
“Thanks, Liv. Now you know why I’ve always preferred yours.” That reminded him, especially since Olivia hadn’t mentioned it yet. “Speaking of your parents, have you talked to them today?”
She shook her head. “Mom called earlier but I was in rehearsals. She left a message for me to call tomorrow. Wait—why do you ask?”
“I normally go to your parents’ for Thanksgiving, you know.”
Olivia looked at her plate. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“Dee called today and asked me to give you a lift to Tampa.”
“You’re kidding.”
“You don’t have a car, Olivia. It makes sense.”
“But I’ve lined up a rental. I want to drive.”
“They’re just worried about you driving Alligator Alley on your own at night.”
“I’m an adult. I’ve been on my own for years. I’ve navigated foreign cities where no one speaks English. I think I can handle a four-hour drive through central Florida all by myself.”
“But the cell reception sucks through there. I see their point, even if you are too skinny for the alligators to bother eating.”
She shot him a sour look for that crack. “I’m going up on Wednesday, but I have to come back Friday night. I’m in the Santa parade on Saturday. You shouldn’t have to cut your holiday short because of me.”
“I’ve got plans on Saturday myself. It works out fine.”
Olivia muttered under her breath.
“Give in graciously to make your parents happy, and I promise I won’t look at your feet when you’re naked later,” he offered as a compromise.
“But I wanted to drive. I haven’t driven since August.”
“Fine. I’ll let you drive part of the way. Will that make you happy?”
She grinned. “Oh, I was hoping you’d say that. Deal. I can leave anytime after four on Wednesday.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT TOOK THEM longer than expected to get to Tampa. They blamed it on traffic, and everyone accepted that explanation without question. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice they were a bit more rumpled than they should be after the drive.
Evan, though, felt a little bad about the delay when he dropped Olivia at the Madisons’ and saw the genuine excitement and misty eyes of Olivia’s homecoming. They were truly an ideal family, straight out of a greeting card commercial—Dee fussing when she found out they hadn’t eaten yet, and Gary offering him gas money for the trip. He declined both the money and the offer of food and left for Jory’s place. Olivia thanked him for the ride politely and with the right amount of distance, but she had a small, I’ve-got-a-secret smile on her face as he left.
He got another helping of guilt when he got to Jory’s twenty minutes later. He’d delayed seeing his best friend in order to see his best friend’s sister naked—which he wasn’t about to admit. He tossed his gear into Jory’s “guest room”—which was more of a weight room with a twin bed from Jory’s childhood bedroom tucked in the corner—while Jory got them both beers.
Like his sister, Jory chose to live downtown, doing his part to help gentrify an area trying to reinvent itself. It was a stark contrast to his parents’ suburban lifestyle, but Jory had taken to it perfectly, all the way down to the local microbrewed beer he offered. A perfect example of a young, upwardly mobile lawyer with a hipster bent.
They caught up on a few things, then Jory said, “By the way, thanks for driving Livvy up.”
“Not a problem.”
“I told Mom not to ask you, but she still worries about Olivia.”
“I was coming this way anyway, so it made sense.”
“And it went all right?” Jory asked carefully.
That was probably as close as Jory was going to come to bringing up Evan’s past with Olivia. He hadn’t mentioned it since the day Evan had agreed to leave Liv alone. “It was fine. It’s been a long time—too long for old grudges.”
Jory snorted. “You obviously don’t know my sister very well. She can carry a grudge with the best of them.”
He’d say he was getting to know Olivia pretty well these days. And while Olivia could carry a grudge, she seemed equally capable of letting it go. But there was really no way to offer that information to Jory. “She didn’t bring it up today, so I didn’t either. I’m pretty sure she’s over it.” That wasn’t a lie. They’d talked the whole way up, but not about that. “By the way, I brought wine for tomorrow,” he said to change the subject. “Don’t let me forget it.”
Jory nodded. “Livvy didn’t need that kind of baggage back then. She’d have gotten far more attached to you than you to her, and it would have ended badly. Who knows how that could have thrown her off, and she was just starting out. A clean break was the only way for her.”
“In retrospect, I agree with you.”
“I appreciate that. And, seriously, I wanted my sister to like you—and you her—just not like that.” He laughed. Evan tried, but he was having a hard time seeing the humor. “I’m not counting on you two being friends, but it’d be nice to know you could at least stand each other. We’d all feel better knowing there’s someone close by she could call if she were ever in a pinch.” So Jory’s ban on Evan and Olivia contact wasn’t complete. Just with the assumption they’d remain vertical and clothed. Evan bit back a smile—at least once, they had. It’d been quick, but far hotter than anticipated. “She has my contact info, and I’ve told her not to hesitate to call if she needs anything.”
“Good. And thanks. Did she happen to mention anything about a boyfriend to you?”
Evan nearly choked on his beer. “No. Why?”
“Livvy’s been hard to get in touch with lately, so I called her apartment and talked to her roommate. Annie was a little cagey about her whereabouts, so I’m assuming she must be seeing someone.”
Liv was spending a lot of time at his place these days—after all, he didn’t have a roommate to make things awkward and she did. She rarely spent the night though, as he had to leave a lot earlier than she did and the bus didn’t run anywhere near his place. But it wasn’t every night. They each had lives they had to live. It was a lot of time, though. He’d tell her she needed to quit ignoring her brother every time he called while she was with him. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Well, could you somehow work it into the conversation on your way home?”
He nearly choked. “Why are you so concerned about your sister’s love life? That’s a little disturbing—not to mention really none of your business.”
“That’s what Livvy says, too.” He laughed and shrugged. “I’m just curious. I want her to be happy, and I refuse to feel bad about that.”
Evan liked to think that Olivia was happy—maybe not in the way Jory probably meant, but she certainly seemed happy enough for the time being.
And he liked to think that part of that was because of him.
It struck him that he was happy, too. More relaxed. That was definitely Olivia, he decided. It was a weird kind of thing—more than the average friends-with-benefits, but not a relationship—but it worked for them. And he was having a very good time. “I’m sure she’s fine, Jory. Leave her alone and let her live her life. You two have always been pretty tight. She’ll let you know if she needs you.”
“I can hope.” Jory went to get another round from the fridge, and by the time he got back he’d moved on to other topics, thank heavens. The weird uncomfortable feeling that settled on his shoulders from talking about Olivia lifted and everything felt normal again.
But when he finally stumbled into bed, bleary-eyed from drinking half the night with Jory, he realized he was missing her.
And frankly, drunk or not, that scared him a little.
Olivia was all smiles and teary hugs goodbye when he picked her up Friday afternoon, but the smiles faded as soon as they turned the corner and she collapsed back against the seat and rubbed her temples. “I love them so much and miss them tons, but whoa... I knew there was a reason I moved to Miami and not Tampa.”
He laughed. “Beyond the fact Miami offered you a contract?”
She shot him a level look. “You’re assuming Ballet Tampa never offered.”
“So they did?”
“Of course they did. I just didn’t want to go back to Tampa. I’ve had offers from lots of different companies over the years, and I’ve been fortunate enough to be able to be picky. I already told you I had a list of places I wanted to dance—both foreign and domestic—and as long as those offers were coming in, I wasn’t about to move home.” She pointed a finger at him and warned, “But don’t tell my folks that or I’ll have to kill you.”
“I’ve got no room to talk, so we’re good.”
“I want to see them and spend time with them, but I can only handle short periods of it before I feel smothered. I know the smothering comes from me being gone, but because I’ve been gone so long, I’m not used to being smothered. Does that make sense?”
“Yep.”
“Good, because I’m not sure I fully understand it.”
“You’ve lived away from home for a long time and you’re very independent. It doesn’t mean they’re not great people or that you don’t love them.”
“They are, and I do.” She sighed. “Ugh. I’m a terrible child.”
“No, you’re not. You’re living your life—which is exactly what you should do. And exactly what Dee and Gary want you to do. They’re so unbelievably proud of you.”
“Thank you for that. I feel a little better.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. He returned the squeeze. Then Olivia pulled out her seemingly bottomless bag of pointe shoes and ribbons and threaded a needle.
“You just sewed a bunch of shoes the other day. How many pairs of those things do you need?”
“More than you might think.” She was quick and efficient, finishing with one ribbon by biting off the thread. Then she tied a new knot and started on another ribbon. “Did you and Jory have a good time?”
“Yep. And I’m supposed to ask you if you’re seeing someone.”
“Ouch.” Olivia pulled the needle out of her thumb and sucked on the wound to soothe it. “Are you kidding me? Why would he care?”
“Hey, your mom asked me the same thing. You know, you could really save me some awkward moments by returning their calls.”
“I do. Eventually. I’ve just been a bit busy recently and there are only so many hours in a day. Given the choice between being with you and calling my family...” She shot him a sly smile. “I chose you.”
“I’m flattered.” And he was. More than he really should be. More than he was comfortable with, actually, for a multitude of reasons.
But it was still kind of nice.
And that was also was also a little scary.
Thanksgiving pretty much marked the end of any kind of normality in Olivia’s life—until at least after Christmas. She was prepared, though. She’d done her Christmas shopping in October and had had her Christmas cards addressed and ready to go since Halloween. She was used to the craziness of December—the run outs to various schools, the photo calls, music rehearsals, tech rehearsals, dress rehearsals, appearances on morning shows, the evening news and at half a dozen area events. That was on top of the usual classes, doctors’ appointments and the like. Oh, and the sixteen or so actual performances they’d do over the next three weeks, of course. It was nonstop between now and Christmas Eve, but once the curtain closed that night, she could retreat to her bed and not be required to surface again until after the New Year.
It was the nature of the business—especially now that she was a principal—and while the schedule was grueling at times, she loved it.
But she’d never tried to do it before while she was seeing someone—or at least someone who wasn’t also doing The Nutcracker and keeping a schedule equally as insane as hers. And that was a problem.
Evan, bless him, said he understood, but anyone would get frustrated when they were being shoehorned into a schedule—meals had to be grabbed during holes in that schedule, but they weren’t exactly leisurely affairs at nice restaurants. Late nights with endless hours of athletic, sweaty sex were out of the question, too. She needed sleep—lots of it. She wasn’t complaining—much—as it was still good sex, but it was rather like being put on a restricted diet after unlimited trips to the dessert bar.
After a week of rushed encounters and last-minute cancellations, Olivia was sure Evan would be over it. Surprisingly though, he wasn’t. She had to give him credit for that.
