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My brow furrows. “How much longer?”
“A month, two months …” He shrugs as he takes a sip of his own orange juice. “A year? As long as we want. I don’t want to give you up, Felicia. Ever.”
His deep, rumbling voice makes his reassurance much more effective. The tension eases in my shoulders instantly. I hope off of my stool and round the kitchen island. He folds me into his arms without prompting, brushing my hair out of my face to take my lips with his.
Do I want to stay longer? Could I really just let my old life fall to the wayside like that?
More importantly, could I live with myself for doing that to Olivia?
***
I wake up shivering.
It’s early in the morning, and it seems I rolled away from Brock at some point in the middle of the night. Blearily, I sit up and throw my feet over the edge of the bed before reaching for Brock’s robe. I pull it on before making my way to the bathroom in the half-light of dawn.
As soon as I shut the bathroom door behind me, I realize that the robe’s pocket is vibrating. I pull it out to see a fresh stream oftexts and calls from Olivia. As I start to glance through them, my heart drops to my toes.
Apparently after not hearing from me for the last few days, my dad decided to escalate things. He assumed I was hiding out with Olivia, and reached out to her. When they learned that neither of them had heard from me, they went to the green market I work for.
And when they found out that I hadn’t been there for several days … Well, it’s all gone downhill from there. But it’s her last text is what really has my stomach roiling.
I’m freaking out! Where are you? I’m calling our PI if I don’t hear from you soon. Please answer me, we’re all scared that you’re not okay.
I know she’s serious about it. She once had their private investigator look into a boy in our pre-calculus class that kept hitting on her during our passing periods in high school. I’ve never lied to her once but at this point, this is a lie of omission.
I feel like I’ve betrayed her.
Abruptly, reality starts to cave in on me.
I scroll through the recent messages from Olivia, then all the way back. Years of messages, laughter, and tears alike. She’s never been anything but the kindest friend I could ever ask for. In return, I’ve been hiding out in her dad’s vacation house, fucking him behind her back. Loving him without a care for her thoughts or feelings.
There’s no forgiving something like that.
My stomach churns once more. I feel like I’m going to throw up because of the stress rocketing through me.
Did I really think that I could keep this secret for the rest of our lives?
I knew the moment I gave Brock my consent that I’d have to live with the consequences, but this is harder than I thought it’d be. I don’t regret my choices, but I do regret that I haven’t been forthcoming to the truest friend I’ve ever had.
Can I fix this?
Will she forgive me?
Tears stream down my cheeks as I grip the sides of the sink. I feel powerless, frozen with the weight of making a decision about what to do.
Finally, I manage to shoot Olivia a text saying that I’m safe and that I’ll be home soon. My fingers shake as I tap out the words, but I manage to get it out to her so that I can tuck my phone back into the pocket of the robe.
After using the bathroom, I tiptoe back to the bedroom to see Brock still sleeping. Already he has stubble coming in on his chin, his hair falling across his forehead as his chest rises and falls in deep slumber.
I take a deep breath.
I want him so badly it feels like my heart is being crushed under the weight of the feelings. Silently, I slip on a pair of his sweats and a shirt, before slipping back out the bedroom door. Already, Olivia is trying to video call me, but I don’t answer until I’m outside, standing on the deck.
The air is cool and refreshing, humid against my skin. I’m sure I’m going to look a bit unkempt for the inevitable call, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. She needs to know where I’ve been. I can’t hide it from her any longer.
As soon as I connect the video call, Olivia starts scolding me.
“Thank fucking god, it’s really you. Do you haveanyidea how worried I’ve been? How worried your dad’s been?? We were ready to call the cops, Felicia!” Her eyes look red, as if she’s been crying. There are bags under her eyes that she hasn’t bothered to even try covering with makeup. My best friend looks like she’s gone through hell, and I’m the one that’s made her feel like this.
