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“The town isn't that big,” I protested, but the added benefit of not picking her up, I realized, was that none of the neighbors would see me swing by, pick up Emma, leave, and then return to pick up Olivia for our date. “I'll see you there. Around 6:30?”
“That's perfect,” Olivia breathed. She bit her lower lip uncertainly, glancing back toward where Emma's giggles could still be heard. “We should get back,” she sighed.
“I know,” I groaned, unable to resist the urge to pull her hips against mine for a moment. I was already hard and wanting, and it was going to be hell getting through the whole night sat across from her. But there wasn't anything I could do about that; it wasn't as though I could take her right then and there.
Finally, I had to release her. “Later,” Olivia said.
I nodded my head in agreement and went to convince Emma that playtime was over for the day at the daycare, but that it was time to drive over to Nana's house.
I was the first one to the restaurant, and I waited impatiently in a secluded booth at the back for Olivia to show up. When she finally did, she looked positively radiant in a soft, red cotton dress and black heels, with her hair cascading down her back.
To my surprise, she slid into the same side of the booth as me. “This way, we can share our plates,” she said. Then, she looked sheepish. “If that's okay with you, that is.”
“That's fine,” I said faintly. I actually kind of liked it, having her there beside me, our legs pressed against one another's.
As we enjoyed our meal, stealing little bites off one another's plates, I placed my hand on Olivia's thigh. “So you've been living in Chicago?” I asked, trying to be nonchalant.
“Yeah,” Olivia said. She frowned. “I really moved back because of Mom. Because of the cancer. I knew that things had to be more severe than she was letting on.”
“Any luck talking to her about that?” I asked, even though I didn't want to mix business with pleasure. I hoped Olivia didn't think that the only reason I'd asked her to come to dinner with me that night was that I wanted to talk further about her mother's health situation.
But from the way I could feel her shifting her hips needfully at the way my hand was resting on her thigh, I could tell that she was turned on and thinking more about sex than medicine.
“I tried to talk to her about it, but she says it's a closed topic of conversation,” Olivia sighed. “I honestly don't know how to proceed from here. Maybe it would be better if you talked to her.”
“You're her daughter,” I reminded her. “I'm sure you'll figure something out. For all my talk of things needing to happen right away, you do have a little time to figure things out.” It was a lie, but I didn't want her to get stressed out and start crying again. I wanted her to enjoy this just as much as I was.
Fortunately, Olivia seemed keen to drop that topic of conversation. “I'm happy to be in Tamlin, though,” she said. “I didn't realize how stressed out I'd gotten, working in Chicago. Things just move so fast-paced there. I've lived there for most of my life, but it just started to get a little overwhelming. I can see why Mom was so happy to move back here.”
“Move back here?” I asked.
“She was born here, and she lived here for part of her childhood,” Olivia told me. “That's why she knows nearly everyone in town already. But it's been a while since she was back.”
“What about your dad?” I knew I shouldn't pry, but I was curious.
Olivia shrugged. “It's been just Mom and I, for as long as I can remember,” she said.
“Single parenthood,” I commented, nodding my head. “I know a thing or two about that.”
Olivia smiled and put a hand on my thigh as well, and it was only then, when she did that, that I realized my hand had been creeping dangerously high on her own leg. I blushed a little and started to retract my hand, but then I checked myself. She didn't appear to mind: if she had minded, I had a feeling she would have been very upfront with me. Instead, she almost seemed to be making this into a challenge.
I smiled to myself and dragged the pads of my fingers along her smooth flesh for a moment, hearing her breath hitch in response.
She forged gamely ahead. “So what do you do, anyway?” she asked. “When you're not off being a doctor or a dad, or dragging poor, unassuming women off to terrible performing arts shows.”
I laughed. “Hobbies,” I said. I grimaced. “To be honest, I don't know that I've had many hobbies since Emma was born. It feels like every spare moment I have has been with her. At least, until I'm utterly exhausted, but by then, she's usually in bed, and it's nighttime, and all I have the energy to do is put on a movie and fall asleep.”
“What kinds of movies do you like?” Olivia pressed.
“Don't laugh, but I kind of like cheesy romances,” I admitted. “And classics, I love a good black and white film. Anything that doesn't require me to focus on it.”
Olivia hummed an agreement. “Those kinds of movies are the best,” she said. She paused. “Maybe we should go out to the movies sometime. I haven't been in ages; it's so expensive in Chicago. But Mom said the theater here does decent matinees.”
“They do,” I agreed, nodding at her. She shivered as I slid my hand higher.
“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked breathlessly.
