Chapters (48)
- 1. One
- 2. Two
- 3. Three
- 4. Four
- 5. Five
- 6. Six
- 7. Seven
- 8. Eight
- 9. Nine
- 10. Ten
- 11. Eleven
- 12. Twelve
- 13. Thirteen
- 14. Fourteen
- 15. Fifteen
- 16. Sixteen
- 17. Seventeen
- 18. Eighteen
- 19. Nineteen
- 20. Twenty
- 21. Twenty-One
- 22. Twenty-Two
- 23. Twenty-Three
- 24. Twenty-Four
- 25. Twenty-Five
- 26. Twenty-Six
- 27. Twenty-Seven
- 28. Twenty-Eight
- 29. Twenty-Nine
- 30. Thirty
- 31. Thirty-One
- 32. Thirty-Two
- 33. Thirty-three
- 34. Thirty-Four
- 35. Thirty-Five
- 36. Thirty-Six
- 37. Thirty-Seven
- 38. Thirty-Eight
- 39. Thirty-Nine
- 40. Forty
- 41. Forty-One
- 42. Forty-Two
- 43. Forty-three
- 44. Epilogue
- Afterword
- Also by
- Acknowledgments
- About Author
“So, what’s your room like back in Florida?” I settled into the chair Taylor had vacated when she fled the room. Olive shifted to be more comfortable on her bed and in doing so forced me to confront the fact that I was in her room. It was where she grew up, where she laid her pretty blonde head down to sleep, where she talked to me on the phone for hours, where she got ready this afternoon in that killer dress. It was overwhelming, her classic scent everywhere. And everything was so soft. The rug under her bed, the blankets lying at its foot, the tiny pillows that served no purpose, the candles with black wicks on the desk—it was all so comforting, like a warm hug.
“A lot more neutral,” she said with a small laugh.
“I can picture that.”
And I could, but I hoped she still had pieces of this Olive in her current bedroom in Florida. Would I ever see that bedroom? I had a feeling I wouldn’t, and that thought was a cloud of dread hanging over us. She twiddled her fingers like she was thinking the same thing, and I felt the need to put my own hands over them.
“Are you ready to go?” I looked down at her form-fitting black dress and heels. She certainly looked ready—ready to drive me crazy all night.
She nodded her head slowly, careful not to muss up her hair. Even in heels, she was incredibly short when she stood, and it made me smile. She was like a doll I wanted to scoop up and carry with me everywhere. I stood too and closed the distance between us. The top of her head came up to my chest, and I struggled not to pull her closer. Was that Lionel Richie playing in my head? I didn’t even care because I was stuck on her. After talking so much last night, things felt different. I had always been attracted to Olive. Hell, the second I saw her on the plane—eye mask and all—and realized she was my seat mate, I nearly dropped my luggage on my feet. Now it was like everything was multiplied. Something told me she felt the pull between us too because she wouldn’t even look me in the eye.
“Olive,” I said, her name like a prayer. I didn’t have anything else to say; I only wanted her to see me.