Livvy (38 page)

“I can unpack our stuff,” I offer, “if you want to give it a test drive.”

He barely even considers the offer before taking the keys in his hand. “Where’s this place tonight?” I find the invitation in my purse and hand it to him. “Does the car have GPS?”

“Of course.”

He takes a deep breath, then returns to me, enveloping me in his arms. He kisses me fully and appreciatively. “I’m just going to make a test run. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Just be careful,” I tell him. “Take your phone.” I put my hands on his jawline and press my lips to his once more. I can feel his quick heartbeat beneath my pinkies. He really is excited about this car.
Good call, Liv.

Matty’s woven silk tie is beautiful. It’s monochrome with a beautiful paisley pattern. I take my dress out of its bag and hold the two next to one another. In certain light, the sheen of it matches perfectly, and at other angles, it will still look like we belong together. Not that we need fancy clothes for that.

I’ll have to do something nice for Matty for his help with the car and the tie. I hope both make Jon feel more comfortable tonight.

After putting everything away, I sit down at the work table and wake up the iMac provided by the hotel. I check the weather, tracking a cold front that’s supposed to hit in two days. I log in to my email to see if last semester’s grades have posted.
Straight A’s
. Mom and Dad should be happy. After awhile, I give in to my curiosity, doing a search for my biological father.

Isaiah Grate.

Not that I want to meet him or anything... I just want to see where he lives. I’m in his hometown. I can’t help but wonder about him. After all, I might run into him. Hartford’s not that big.

I see the link to the article quickly. My hand shaking, I go back to that page and study his eyes intently again, still seeing how similar they are to mine.

Returning to the main search page, I find his address and plot it on a map, checking the distance. He lives less than five miles from here. After closing the browser, the city traffic outside the window keeps the focus of my eyes while my mind wanders elsewhere.
Would he see himself in me, if he ever came across me?

The wiggle of the door knob startles me out of my haze. I struggle to keep the melancholy at bay. I don’t want to be sad or reflective today. I know I have to exude enough confidence for both of us tonight, although I have a feeling Jon will warm up to the surroundings, if he gives the other guests a chance.

“You okay?” Jon asks.

“Fine,” I say with a sigh, pushing the chair around to face him. “How was it?”

He’s still smiling. “Exhilarating. I, uh...” He runs his fingers through his windblown hair, “never really wanted a sports car before. But then again, I never knew what I was missing. That car is incredible... and the view... it’s pretty up here.”

“You feel okay about driving it with a passenger now?”

“My precious cargo...” he laments as he drags his thumb along his stubbled chin. “I’m ready.” He walks over and kisses my lips firmly.

“You do realize you’re driving us back to Manhattan, right?”

“God, I was hoping you were going to tell me that. I can’t believe your dad would even consider this.”

“He didn’t. Matty did it for me.”

“I love Matty,” Jon says. “No, I love you.”

“I know you do.” I stand up and hug him, holding on for a few seconds, feeling as if I need his support. He rubs his hands up and down my back, comforting me. “What do you want to do?”

“You shot down my first idea,” he says. “You decide.”

“They have an indoor pool,” I suggest, “and a gym.”

“What do
you
want to do?”

“I just want to relax. I was thinking about getting a massage, and maybe taking a little nap.”

“Lie down,” he instructs me. “Free massage, right here. Then I’ll leave you to your sleep. You need to be well rested,” he says, his words a playful warning. I roll my eyes at him and take my sweater off, leaving the satin camisole on in an attempt to keep him from trying anything.

“Olivia?” he whispers. I blink my eyes open, having difficulty seeing him in the dim light.

“Hmmm?”

“You should probably start getting ready.”

“I’m still tired,” I tell him groggily. “You want to shower first?”

“I already did,” he answers. “It’s time for you to get up.” I glance at the clock. It’s seven-thirty.

“Okay.” I stretch, rolling over on my back. Jon lifts my shirt and kisses my stomach a few times, making me smile. He looks up to see my pleased expression.

“I can’t wait to be alone with you later.”

“Me, neither,” I agree. “This is going to be fun tonight. I promise.”

“I trust you,” he says. “And if it’s not, I can escape in a Vanquish.”

“You can’t leave me behind.”

“I wouldn’t. Go shower. I’ll run downstairs and get you a latte to wake you up.”

“Sounds good,” I agree, taking his hand, allowing him to pull me off the bed.

A warm chai tea latte is waiting on the counter when I get out of the shower. Glancing into the closet, I notice Jon’s tux is missing. I can’t wait to see him in it, but I force myself to get ready completely before revealing myself to him. I curl my hair after drying it, pulling it back in two rhinestone clips that match the red sequined handbag I’d brought with me.

The silver dress I found at a resale shop was a steal. After spending more than I’d anticipated on Christmas presents for my family, I had to find a good deal on a formal dress for the party. I know most of the girls will probably wear custom-designed gowns, but even though mine is off-the-rack, I don’t think anyone could have designed anything prettier for me.

While the dress I wore to Jon’s prom had a flowing A-line skirt, the cut of this one hugs my curves in all the right places. I turn around, checking out the back of the dress where my shoulder blades are exposed. Since I tried on the dress the first time, I’ve been envisioning Jon unhooking the tiny clasp at the nape of my neck and planting soft kisses down my spine. Just the thought of it makes me shiver.

I put on more makeup than normal, knowing the occasion calls for it. Anna had helped me pick out eyeshadow and blush colors that gave me a dewy glow. I put on lipgloss for now, since I presume Jon may want to kiss me once he sees me. I hope he does. This is all for him.

I sit on the edge of the tub to slip into my shoes, checking my nail polish on the two toes that can be seen through the peep-toe heels. Taking a deep breath, I glance one last time in the mirror before exiting the bathroom. Most of the suite is dark, with a warm yellow glow emanating from the next room.

“Did you know,” Jon says, his voice coming from the adjoining reading nook, “that butterflies taste with their back feet?” I peek around the wall, looking at him curiously without exposing myself. He’s holding his glasses in one hand, and has his nose buried in a book. He’s got the tux on, but his shirt isn’t buttoned up, nor is he wearing the tie yet.

“I didn’t know that,” I respond to him, moving across the bedroom to find the small container of perfume I’d packed. After putting it on, I get out my diamond necklace.

“I bet you didn’t know that the wingspan of a 747 is longer than the Wright Brother’s first flight. Can you believe that?” he laughs.

“Not at all,” I respond, huffing a little to myself at how excited he seems at the discovery of these trivial facts.

“Weird, and the ampersand sign was once the 27th letter of the alphabet. That’s just...
odd,
right?”

“Right,” I say, a little distracted trying to clasp the necklace myself, having difficulty. I finally just decide to approach him, since he doesn’t seem interested in me enough to seek me out. “Can you help me?”

“Get this, a small child,” he starts, diverting his eyes from the book quickly and finally seeing me. The silly look of wonder becomes one of desire, and defeat. His lips part slightly, and I can see the motions of his heavy breaths in his shoulders and chest.

“A small child what?” I ask, holding the necklace out to him. After about ten seconds, he moves, tossing the book to the floor and standing up. Walking toward me, he reaches out for the strand of diamonds.

“I don’t know,” he says, seemingly mesmerized. “Turn around?” he suggests softly, poised to put on my necklace. I comply, letting him place the jewelry around my neck.

“A small child what?” I question him again, this time pretending I don’t know what I’m doing to him.

“I don’t care,” he answers finally, placing a kiss just above the clasp at the base of my neck. His fingers trace my shoulder blades, causing goosebumps to prickle across my skin. “I love this,” he says as he runs his hands down the sides of my dress, pressing against my curves over the crinkled taffeta. His eyes drift to our reflection in the window, the light of the room luminous, starkly contrasting to the darkened night sky. He pulls me into him, my back against his chest, and clasps his hands loosely in front of me. I smile at him, putting my hands on his.

“Slowly, silently, now the moon

Walks the night in her silver shoon;

This way, and that, she peers, and sees

Silver fruit upon silver trees...”*

“What’s that?” I ask him, keeping my voice soft, like his.

“A poem we studied my senior year,” he answers. After a brief pause, he continues, contemplative. “Sometimes, words... phrases... poetry... they don’t have meaning when you first hear them.” I glance back at him, but he looks beyond me, as if lost in his thoughts. “And then one day, a vision releases each of those words from disarray in your subconscious to perfect, methodical lucidity, like you were saving them up to mean something in one, solitary moment.

“This is that moment for me.” His eyes finally focus on mine. I can tell he sees my confusion, my struggle to follow his pondering.

“You’re the moon
and
the sun, Olivia. I’ve seen both in you, and right now, I can’t tell which one I love more.”

I blush in appreciation of his flattering metaphor. “Thank you.” I recognize his reference to our first night together in Mykonos immediately. He’d told me then that I looked like sunshine.

“You’re my universe. You encompass me.” He sounds breathless, as if I’ve stolen his air. “My heaven and my earth.”

“Jon,” I whisper, turning around to face him and feeling overwhelmed and inadequate. I’m not sure I can live up to that. His hands travel slowly up my body to my cheeks, which he strokes with his thumbs. He nods his head subtly. I can’t help but smile at him, at the way he admires me. He grins back, finally moistening his lips and moving in for a kiss. I wrap my fingers around his biceps, needing his support to stand, his caress making me weak.

“My Olivia.” His voice is barely audible. “My life.”

My heart pounds in my chest. I take a few deep breaths to try to calm myself. “I don’t ever want to be where you’re not, Jon. I hope you know I’d follow you anywhere. This Yale thing... they’re only miles separating us, but I want you to know that my heart is always with you. I never feel that far from you. It doesn’t make sense, I know–”

“It makes perfect sense to me, Liv. You’re everywhere in my world. My constant. My perpetuity.”

“You and your damn vocabulary,” I tease him.

He tugs on a curl playfully, keeping his face close to mine. I trace his unshaven chin with the back of my fingers, happy that he kept his five o’clock shadow. It makes him look older. It makes him look even
sexier
. “I’m not afraid of this,” he declares. “I’m not afraid of giving so much of myself to you.”

“No?” I ask as I drag my hands down his chest, almost wishing we didn’t have to go tonight. Almost, but not quite. I’m anxious to show him off.

“No. Because I know you’ll give me just as much of yourself to make up the difference.”

“I will,” I tell him. “I do.” He grins smugly.

“I hope that’s not the last time I hear those two words from you.” He moves his hands to mine and strokes my promise ring thoughtfully.

“In time,” I assure him. “I’ll say them again, when the time is right. I’ll save them for you, though.” It feels like we’re walking a tightrope, tempting fate. “Can I get your tie?”

“Sure,” he says. He looks confident and happy.

“Are you nervous?” I ask, feeling his eyes on me as I walk away.

“Not a bit,” he responds. “I’ll be with you. I’m safe with you.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” I tell him, flipping the tie casually in my hand. I try to put it on him, knotting it how I think I’ve seen my mom do it over the years. It looks good. Or it looks secure, anyway. When he steps back to look in the mirror, he shakes his head and undoes the knot. “That’s a half-Windsor,” he says. “I think formal is full.”

“I don’t know the difference.”

“I’ll show you,” he says, watching his motions in his reflection. It looks like he’s struggling.