Livvy (13 page)

“I think so, yes,” I answer. “What if he is?”

“Alive? Well... then you wake up tomorrow the same way you woke up today: daughter of parents Jack and Emi Holland, sister to Trey, and the most beautiful girl in the world to me.”

That gets my attention. When I look at him, he traces my cheekbone with the back of his finger. “Even with blue hair?” I laugh a little, feeling self-conscious.

“Especially with short hair and blue streaks. You wear it well.”

“I hate it.”

The musical chime rings in the apartment. Jon looks toward the door to see what’s making the sound. “A new intercom,” I explain, getting up to see what Francisco wants. I remember Finn as I walk toward the door, and immediately after that, I remember Jon’s face after he saw me kissing my friend last spring.

“Yes, Francisco?”

“You have a guest, Miss Holland.”

“Um... can you put him on the phone?” After failing to find a volume controller on the intercom, I glance back at Jon nervously.

“Hey, Liv.”

“Hey, ummm, Finn. I’m painting, and Matty said he’d help me later. When he gets back, he’ll help.” I sniffle, wiping my runny nose with the back of my hand and wishing I’d brought a tissue.

“You’re painting?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Sometimes I just have to take advantage of inspiration when it strikes.”

“You don’t sound okay.”

“I’m fine... really, I am. I’ll see you at seven. Okay?”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Thanks, Finn.”

“Miss Holland?” Francisco says quickly.

“Yes?”

“Just a second, Miss Holland.” The phone is shuffled around. “Have a good afternoon, sir,” I hear the doorman say, the sound muffled. “Okay,” he says, returning to me. “I have an urgent message to deliver to you personally.”

“Francisco, I don’t really know how many more messages I can take today.”

“Please, miss. I’ll be right up.” He ends the call before I have a chance to argue. I go out into the hallway, waiting for the doorman. Jon joins me by standing in the doorway.

“Why’d you lie to Finn?” he asks.

“I’m just not in the mood to be social right now,” I explain.

“I know there’s nothing between you two,” he tells me. “I understand he’ll always be a part of your life.”

“That’s nice,” I tell Jon quickly, distracted. The elevator finally reaches my floor.

“Sir,” Francisco says loudly to Jon before even acknowledging me. He steps out of the elevator, but doesn’t walk any further toward my apartment. “Might I have a moment alone with Miss Holland?”

“Of course,” Jon says, closing the door after he goes back inside. Francisco motions for me to come closer to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“If you’re in trouble, miss, let me help you.”

“What?”

“You didn’t sound like yourself on the intercom. Are you all right?”

“Oh, Francisco,” I say with warm smile. “Thank you. I’m fine. That letter James brought was... well, it just made me a little emotional, that’s all. And it’s fine, with Jon being here. I’m okay.”

“If you need anything at all, I’m right downstairs.”

“I know you think he’s violent, but he’s not,” I tell him softly, even though I’m sure Jon can’t hear us. “When he hit my agent, it was for good reason. He would never hit me. I’ve hit him, and he’s never retaliated, or even lifted a hand.”

“Okay,” he says. “I feel better knowing that.”

“Thanks, Francisco. I appreciate your concern.” He pats me on the back as I walk toward my apartment.

“Is everything okay?” Jon asks once I’m inside.

“It’s fine. Francisco’s just overly cautious.”

“Well... is there something I can help you with?”

I shrug my shoulders. “No, I’m fine.”

“Why was Finn coming over?”

“Not that it’s any of your business–”

“Liv,” he says, raising his voice above mine. “It sounds like he was coming over to help you with something, and you turned him away. All I’m asking is if it was something I could help you with.”

“Oh,” I say in a sigh, feeling bad that I took it wrong. I smile apologetically, and he grins back at me.

“Anything?”

“Actually, he was helping me move furniture.”

“I think I’m well suited for that job.” He takes off his trench coat, which he’d been wearing all this time. I guess subconsciously I thought he would just be here temporarily; maybe to give me the present and leave. It comforts me to see him hang his coat by the door. It means he might stay for awhile, and I don’t really feel like being alone.

I watch him roll up his long sleeves, and see arms that are defined with sculpted muscles.
That’s new
. Back when we were together, he’d been working out more, and was definitely more fit than he was when we started dating, but now he looks like someone who might have ripped abs if he were to remove his shirt entirely.

“What are we moving?” he asks, snapping me out of my admittedly ill-timed reverie.

“That couch,” I say, pointing to the one we had been sitting on earlier. “And the chair and coffee table.”

“Where to? Your studio space?”

“No, we’re just rearranging to accommodate my guests.” I look up at him, and wonder if I should invite him. Finn will obviously be here. And Emmanuel’s coming, but I’d already planned to let him know I just wanted to remain friends and photography partners with him. No one coming is a threat to Jon, but he may not see it that way. “I’m having a party, if you’d like to stay. Mainly my cousins, but also some people from Yale.”

“I’m probably not dressed for that.” He crouches down to pick up one side of the couch, realizing quickly how heavy it is.

“You look fine.” I try to pick up my side, but there’s no way I could lift that.

“Wait, Liv, I’ll get it.” I nod, backing off a few steps. “Won’t it be weird? The party?”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Here,” he says, coming to the side of the couch I’m standing near. “Do you have any towels? Something old?”

“There’s nothing old here,” I tell him.

“Well, something replaceable then, just in case it rips.”

“Sure.” I find a brand new towel in the bathroom and rush it back to him.

“Spread it on the floor, and when I lift this end, just slide it under the legs. But wait,” he says, stopping me.

“What?”

“Can you hold up the towel first? I want to take a picture.”

“I don’t want to be in any pictures. I look awful. I just saw–”

“I want a picture of the towel... you can hold it in front of you.”

“Really?” I ask him, looking at him strangely.

“It’s for Will,” he says with a laugh. I hold up the towel, waiting for him to tell me he’s finished. “Thanks. Ready?”

“Ready,” I tell him. Instead of watching the legs on the floor, I watch his strong arms lift the heavy piece of furniture.

“Now, Liv.”

“Right,” I say, straightening out the towel before he sets down the couch.

“You know, I’m not trying to size up Finn or anything, but unless he’s been doing a lot of upper body workouts over the summer, there’s no way he would be able to lift this thing.”

“We probably would have pushed it.”

“You’d scratch up these–are these floors new, too?”

“Everything’s new,” I reiterate. Before he moves the couch, he analyzes the space and moves the other two pieces of furniture first, getting my approval on their placement. Then, I pretend to help him by pushing the couch, but he’s clearly doing all the work. After he has the sofa where I want it, he removes the towel, handing it to me before he has a seat. I grab his glass to get him a refill. “So, how are your brothers?” I ask him on my way to the kitchen.

“They’re great,” he says, but doesn’t expand upon it until I return to the living room, taking a seat on an ottoman next to him. He looks remorseful as he continues. “I’m so glad I went there. I needed that time with them.”

“Good,” I respond.

“But Liv, I am so sorry.”

“I know,” I say. “We can talk about all of this later.”

“I just feel like this party’s going to to be weird if we don’t talk now.”

“It won’t,” I assure him. “We’re just hanging out with friends... you can bring Fred if you want–”

“He took Yasmin upstate for the weekend,” he says.

I smile at him, feeling a sense of relief at the word
Yasmin
. “That’s his girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“So she got into Columbia after all?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I guess we found out at the beginning of the summer.”

“Cool. And how’s your mom doing?”

“Never better,” he says, taking a sip of water and sinking comfortably into the couch. “Really. She’s clean, she has a job, she’s taking responsibility... she’s even giving out some pretty good advice these days.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah. How are your parents? I talked to your Mom a few weeks ago... she helped make arrangements to move my things out of your studio space. She seemed... sad.”

“Really? She didn’t mention it to me... but they’re doing well. I’m not sure how they’ll take this news about Isaiah, though.” I stand up to grab the letter off the table once more. “Isaiah Grate. Do you think that’s British? Grate?”

“Maybe Scottish,” he says. “Great Scott!” he teases with a bad accent, then hears what he says. We both watch each other as the realization hits at the same time.

“Oh, my God,” I giggle, and he has to set his water down so he doesn’t risk spilling it as he, too, breaks into a fit of laughter.

“Grate... Scott...” he is barely able to vocalize between breaths. “If you... if you...” He can’t finish the sentence.

“If I grew up with him,” I say after regaining a little composure, “and married you...” I crack up again. “Livvy Grate-Scott!” I squeak out in a tone that’s at least an octave higher than my normal speaking voice. It makes him laugh even harder, and we’re both grabbing for tissues to wipe our eyes. Finally, the moment passes.

“But that will never be,” I say finally with a smile.

“Right,” he says, and all evidence of
his
smile is gone. “I understand.”

“Wait,” I stop him, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. “I didn’t grow up with him, Jon, so of course I–” I stop when I catch on to what he was thinking. “Oh,” I say, feeling my cheeks blush hot.

“And you don’t think tonight will be awkward?” he asks, well aware of the strange tension that now settles over the room.

“Maybe I’ll feel more like talking later. I just need to get my mind off things for awhile, and this party will probably do the trick.”

“We can’t talk with everyone around. What I need to say to you, Liv, I want to do it in private.”

“I promise, we’ll find a way. If we have to kick my uncle out of his place across the hall, he’d do that for me.”

“Which uncle?”

“Matty,” I tell him. “My dad would never let me move in here without having someone nearby.”

“And Matty’s the best he could do?” he teases me.

“He’s always looked out for me,” I tell him. “Actually, he’s always looked out for
us
.”

He takes my hand in his, and I let him, though I don’t hold on to him like he holds on to me. “He has.”

“I think I should tell them,” I say, changing the subject as I think of my mom and dad and all they’ve done to care for me. “I think they deserve to know about Isaiah.”

“Why?” he asks simply, removing his hand. “Just consider all the angles.”

“I would feel bad, hiding it from them.”

“So to make
you
feel better,” he says, and I’m immediately offended.

“You think I’m selfish for that?” I say, losing my temper. “I’ll tell you who’s selfish. You, for walking out on us. You, for refusing to answer my calls or respond to my letters. You, for pushing me away when I came to see you. You, for believing whatever the hell you wanted to believe about me and Finn when the truth was right in front of you all along.
I
am not selfish.

“
You
are selfish.”

One corner of his lip rises into a smile.

“Don’t smile. Defend yourself! What do you have to say?”

“Are we talking about this now?”

“I guess we are!” Although I’m not sure how we got here...

“I can’t defend my behavior, Olivia. I can’t defend something I don’t understand. I can’t defend something I would never do to you today, or ever again in our future. It’s indefensible. I know this. It wasn’t right.”

“It’s not just that it wasn’t right,” I say to him. “It wasn’t loving. What you did wasn’t loving, at all.” I start to cry again, this time tears of frustration.