“Oh,” I said and then met her eyes. She gave me an almost embarrassed smile, which surprised me. Olivia didn’t get embarrassed. Every meeting she just talked about whatever was on her mind. Not ashamed to put it out there for the group to know. So to see her look shy was strange.
“I was hoping you’d come anyways,” she said, staring up at me with her warm, brown eyes.
I could never explain what happened to my body and mind in that moment. It was like a salve being gently massaged into my heart. And Olivia was the salve.
We were shy with one another at first. Careful. Afraid of stepping into a relationship together. We felt guilt for the memories we were stepping around, treading ever-so-lightly, wary of thinking less about the ones we lost, and more about one another.
But we were also tired. Tired of being sad, of feeling we had nothing to live for, nothing to look forward to. And so we began to live for one another.
Lizzie shifted beside me and I glanced down at her hand in mine. When she was just a girl and scared at night, she’d climb into bed between her mother and me and hold my hand. As she’d drifted off to sleep beside me on the plane, I’d felt her soft hand slip into mine and I’d smiled and met her eyes, so like her mother’s, and given her fingers a squeeze, saying in my head what I’d said when she was small: “You’re okay, sweet girl. It’s all going to be just fine.”
It was a surprise when Olivia got pregnant. For the both of us. We weren’t married yet, but had begun to talk of it here and there. And then she arrived at my apartment door one day, white as a sheet, and told me what she suspected. We went to the doctor the next day and had it confirmed.
“William,” she’d said, her eyes wide, mortified. We’d been so careful.
But I’d smiled. “Wanna have a baby with me, Ollie?”
It wasn’t something we’d ever discussed as we were still just trying to navigate being part of a couple again, but I wasn’t upset.
“You’re not mad?” she’d whispered. “I could—”
I pressed my finger to her lips. “I don’t know what you’re about to say, but don’t. If you want this baby, let’s have this baby. You and me. It will be the three of us. We’ll be a family. You’ll write books, I’ll design us a house, and we’ll be happy.”
She’d grinned through her tears. “You’re going to be the man I always write.”
“I damn well better be!” I said and we both laughed.
And so our life together began. And it was beautiful and full of light and laughter, some funny fights, lots of family vacations, a few nightmares that still haunted our nights, but we were okay. We were just fine.
We were more than fine.
Selene met us at the airport like she said she would, but I felt myself looking around for someone else.
“How was the flight?” she asked as we followed her to her car, a soft breeze cooling the warm Southern France air.
“Good,” we all said at once and she laughed.
The drive was easy, all of us staring out the windows, taking in the beauty of Nice. I’d told Lizzie and Emma how Kate and I had once talked about living here together if we decided Seattle didn’t suit us as a couple. She’d been here often as a girl and had fond memories. Had always dreamed she’d lived here one day, and I’d been fascinated and willing to follow her wherever she wanted to go.
“It’s so beautiful,” Emma said from the back seat. “I already don’t want to leave.”
While the three women chatted, Selene pointing and explaining bits about her hometown, I grew quiet, my mind elsewhere.
“Dad?” Lizzie said, her hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
I smiled over my shoulder, meeting her eyes and feeling the gazes of the other two women on me.
“I’m okay,” I said.
It was strange being here. The place I always thought I’d come with Kate. Seeing what she’d seen every day of her life once she’d decided to leave New York.
Per Selene, after she’d seen me that day in Seattle, she’d gone back home to her aunt and uncle’s place in Manhattan and felt adrift.
“She took a lot of walks around the city with Willa, but it felt too big. Too claustrophobic. And not where she wanted to raise her child. She began to dream of the South of France, remembering how much she’d loved it as a child. She broached the subject with Aunt Vic, who told her to think on it for a while, and maybe get back into one of the nearby hospitals—to see how she felt about nursing again. To see if it was something she still wanted to do with her life. As soon as she stepped inside, she knew it was still what she was meant to do. She worked for about a year, saving and making plans, and then when Willa was nearly two, the four of them went to France. Uncle Frank was ready to retire by then, and Aunt Victoria wanted a smaller, quieter life. They found a house for the four of them, until Kate could afford to live on her own, and they were happy, living out their days by the seaside.”
“Did she ever marry?” I’d asked, feeling a small prickle of something related to jealousy at the thought.
But Selene shook her head. “She did not. She always said she was content. She liked it being just her and Willa. She said it was all her heart could handle.”
