“She’s cool,” she said. “Kind of quiet.”
“Yeah. It’s probably because of being the youngest of all those siblings,” I said.
Tori screwed up her face. “She only has two — a brother and a sister. They’re both studying abroad.”
Oh hell no.
I’d never spoken to Laura again. I couldn’t figure out if she knew she was lying, or if she did it because her brain was cracked. Or, maybe she thought it was fun. Who the hell knows? I didn’t hang around to find out. When they said she was missing, I immediately thought she disappeared on purpose. Then I felt guilty for thinking that.
She’d probably been abducted and there I was making up stories to suit my interpretation of her.
They found her at the Miami Airport. When the papers started reporting about her abduction by a man named Devon, I tried not to question it. Tried. Olivia was fascinated with the case. She read everything she could. I don’t know if it was because she was studying law or because she had a personal tie to Laura. I kept my opinions to myself and hoped she was okay.
Then there was a night after Estella was born. I was making dinner, and news was playing softly on the television. I heard her name. Softly, but my ears were tuned to that name. I came out of the kitchen to find Leah trying to change the channel.
“Don’t,” I said. Olivia was on my flatscreen, walking with a man I presumed to be Dobson Orchard. She waved away from the press and got in a car with him.
No, Olivia.
I wanted to tell her to stay away from this case. To stay away from him. I wanted to touch her silky, black hair and wrap her in my protection. My mouth was dry by the time the news went to commercial.
That’s when I realized they’d flashed Laura’s picture, describing her as one of his first victims. Dobson/Devon…
Forget it, I thought. She’d been drugged. Maybe she got the name wrong. Maybe the news did. Maybe she jumped on the Dobson train because she wanted the ride. When she was in college she was looking to be a part of something, a family of eight. Maybe, just maybe, she found it in the faces of Dobson’s abducted, assaulted victims. Fuck if I didn’t pick the strangest women to spend time with.
“Where are we?” Cammie sits up, rubbing her eyes.
“Naples.” I pull down a heavily wooded street, and she looks around in alarm.
“What the hell, Drake?”
Olivia, who has been quiet the whole drive, looks impassively out the window. I’m worried about her. She hasn’t asked once where we’re going. Either she trusts me, or she doesn’t care. I’m good with both.
The road curves, and I pull down a much smaller street. The houses here are spaced further apart. There are ten of them, all sitting around a lake and surrounded by their own five acres. The closest neighbors own horses. I can see them grazing behind white picket fences. As we drive past, Olivia’s head cranes to get a better look.
I smile to myself. She’s not a hundred percent zoned out.
I stop the car outside an ornate white gate and reach into my glove box to find the automatic opener. My hand grazes her knee and she jumps.
“It’s good to know I still have that effect on you,” I say, pointing the device at the gate. It swings open just as her hand shoots out and smacks me on the chest.
I grab her hand before she can pull away and hold it right over my heart. She doesn’t fight me.
Cammie sniffs in the backseat, and I let her go.
The driveway is paved with creamy, brown brick. We follow it for two hundred yards until we reach the house. I throw the car into park; Olivia watches my hand.
I watch her, watch my hand. When she looks up, I smile.
“Where are we?”
“Naples,” I repeat, throwing open my door. I lean the seat forward to let Cammie out and walk around to open the door for Olivia.
She gets out and stretches her arms above her head, looking at the house.
I wait for her reaction.
“It’s beautiful,” she says. I grin and my hammering heart calms down.
“Who does it belong to?”
“Me.”
She raises her eyebrows and follows me up the stairs. The house is three stories, brick-faced with a turret and a widow’s walk that has the most astonishing view of the lake. As we approach the front door, she gasps.
The knocker sits on a solid wood door and is in the shape of a crown.
I stop at the door and look at her.
“And you.”
Her nostrils flare, her eyelashes beat, and her mouth puckers into a little frown.
I turn the key in the lock. We walk into our house.
It is unbearably hot. I head straight for the thermostat. Cammie swears colorfully, and I’m glad they can’t see my face.
The house is fully furnished. I have someone come in once a month to dust and clean the pool — which has never been used. I move from room to room, opening the shades. The girls follow behind me.
When we reach the kitchen, Olivia wraps her arms around her body and looks around.
“Like it?” I ask, watching her face.
“You designed this yourself, didn’t you?”
I like that she knows me so well. My ex-wife liked everything to be modern: stainless steel, sterile white and tile. Everything in my house is warm. The kitchen is rustic. There is a lot of stone and copper and hardwood. I made the decorator use a lot of red, because the color reminds me of Olivia. Leah has red hair, but Olivia has a red personality. And as far as I’m concerned, red belongs to the love of my life.
Cammie wanders around the living room, eventually plopping herself down on the couch and turning on the television. Olivia and I stand side by side, watching her. This was not how I intended for her to see this.
“Want me to show you the rest of your house?”
She nods and I lead her out of the kitchen and toward the curving staircase.
“Leah-”
“No,” I say. “I don’t want to talk about Leah.”
“Fine,” she says.
“Where’s Noah?”
She looks away. “Please stop asking me that.”
“Why?”
“Because it hurts to answer.”
I consider her for a moment and nod. “You’re going to have to tell me eventually.”
“Eventually.” She sighs. “That word is so us, isn’t it? Eventually, you’ll tell me you’re faking your amnesia. Eventually, I’ll tell you that I’m pretending not to know you. Eventually, we’ll come back together, fall apart, come back together.”
I watch her study my wall art, riveted by her words. She says things that genuinely move me. She lets her soul slip through her lips, and it’s always raw and incredibly sad.
“Caleb, what is this house?”
I stand behind her as she lurks in the doorway to the master bedroom and tug on the ends of her hair.
“I was building it for you. I was going to bring you here the night I proposed. It was only an empty lot, but I wanted to show you what we could build together.”
She blows air through her nose and shakes her head. It’s the way she fights tears.
“You were going to ask me to marry you?”
I briefly consider telling her about the night she walked in on me at the office, but I don’t want to overload her emotionally.
“Why did you keep building? Furnish it?”
“A project, Duchess,” I say softly. “I needed something to fix.”
She laughs. “You couldn’t fix me — or that dirty redhead. So you went for a house?”
“It’s a lot more rewarding.”
She snorts. I would have preferred a giggle.
She flips on the light switch and walks carefully into the bedroom, like the floor could fall out from beneath her at any minute.
“Have you ever slept here?”
I watch as she runs a finger along the plush, white comforter and sits on the edge of the bed. She bounces a few times and I smile.
/> “No.”
She lies down on her back and then suddenly rolls twice across the bed until she’s on her feet on the other side. It’s something a little kid would do. As always, when the word kid pops in my head, my stomach clenches painfully.
Estella
My heart falls and then rises slightly when she smiles at me.
“It’s kind of girly in here,” she says.
A corner of my mouth shoots up. “Well, I did intend on sharing it with a woman.”
She puckers her lips and nods. “Peacock blue — it’s very fitting.”
There is a vase of peacock feathers on the dresser. The corners of her mouth tilt up as she remembers something from long ago.
I show her the rest of the bedrooms and then take her up the narrow flight of stairs to the attic, which I converted into a library. She exclaims excitedly when she sees the books, and I have to practically drag her up the narrow flight of stairs to the widow’s walk. She has two books in her hands, but when she emerges into the sunshine, she sets them down on one of the lawn chairs, her eyes wide.
“Oh my god,” she says. She throws her arms up in the air and spins around. “It’s so beautiful. I’d be up here all the time if-”
We both turn away at the same time. I walk over to look at the trees; she stays near the lake.
If…
“If you hadn’t lied to me,” she sighs.
Had I really not expected that? She’s queen of the jab. I laugh really hard. I laugh so hard — Cammie slides the back door open and peeks her head out. When she sees us, she shakes her head and retreats back inside. I feel like I’ve just been scolded.
I glance at Olivia. She’s getting her book and settling down in one of the lawn chairs. “I’ll just be up here if you need me, Drake.”
I walk over and kiss the top of her head. “Okay, Duchess. I’ll go make lunch. Don’t let anyone steal you.”
They catch Dobson in Olivia’s building two days later. He was coming for her. I want to kill Noah. What if she hadn’t called me? Dobson avoided the police for almost a decade. Could he have gotten past them and to Olivia? I don’t even want to think about it. When we get the call, I know it’s time for me to take her back, but we linger for an extra day. Even Cammie doesn’t seem eager to leave. On the fourth day, I bring up leaving just as we’re finishing our dinner of grilled salmon and asparagus. Cammie politely excuses herself from the picnic table and goes inside the house. Olivia picks at the lettuce on her plate and works at avoiding my eyes.
“Do you not feel ready?” I ask her.
“It’s not that,” she says. “It’s just been-”
“Nice,” I finish for her. She nods.
“You can come stay at my place for a few days,” I offer.
She glares at me.
“Would I sleep between you and Jessica?”
I smirk. “How do you know I’m still seeing Jessica?”
She sighs. “I keep tabs on you.”
“You stalk me,” I say. When she doesn’t respond, I touch the top of her hand with my finger, tracing a vein.
“It’s okay. I stalk you too.”
“Are things the same with Jessica? Like they used to be in college?”
“Are you asking me if I’m in love with her?”
“Does it sound like I’m asking you that?”
I cover my face with my hands and sigh dramatically. “If you want to ask me personal and extremely uncomfortable questions, go ahead. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. But, for the love of God — just ask a direct question.”
“Fine,” she says. “Are you in love with Jessica?”
“No.”
She looks surprised. “Were you before? In college, I mean?”
“No.”
“Would you have married her if she’d kept the baby?”
“Yes.”
She bites her bottom lip and her eyes get watery.
“You didn’t make Jessica have an abortion, Olivia.”
The tears roll.
“Yeah, I did. I drove her to the clinic. I could have talked her out of it and I didn’t. On a deep level I knew you would have married her if you found out she was pregnant. I could have told her that and she might not have gone through with it.”
“Jessica doesn’t want children,” I say. “She never has. It’s sort of a deal breaker between the two of us.”
She wipes her face with her sleeve and sniffs. It’s pathetic and cute.
“But you’re together. What’s the point of your relationship if it isn’t going anywhere?”
I laugh and catch a tear off of her chin with my fingertip.
“That’s so you. You don’t do anything without purpose. It’s why you wouldn’t give me a shot in the first place. You didn’t see yourself marrying me, so you wouldn’t even have a conversation with me.”
She shrugs and half smiles. “You don’t know me, fool.”
“Oh, but I do. You had to see me make an ass of myself before you’d even consider going on a date with me.”
“What’s your point, Drake?”
“Jessica broke up with someone before she moved back here. I got a divorce. We are both a little messed up in the head, and we like being around each other.”
“And you like fucking,” she said.
“Yeah. We like fucking. You jealous?”
She rolls her eyes, but I know.
It’s getting dark. The sun is burning a hole through our sky, making it orange and yellow as it dips below the trees.
“You know,” I say, leaning across the table and taking her hand. “I could have sex with a thousand women, and it wouldn’t feel like it did that night in the orange grove.”
She rips her hand away and turns her entire body around so she can watch the sun set. I smile at the back of her head and start collecting the plates.
“Denial’s an ugly thing, Duchess.”
“Let me see that one.”
He reached into the spotless glass case and pulled out something a little more striking than the last. Engagement rings all looked the same after a while. I remember when I was a kid I would say my name over and over until it sounded more like a blur of noise rather than a name. He pushed another bauble over the counter, this one larger than the last. It laid on a square of black velvet. I picked it up and stuck it on my pinkie to get a good look.
“That’s three carats, colorless with a VVS2 rating,” Thomas said. Samoht
“It’s beautiful, it really is. I think I’m just looking for something more … unique.” I pushed it back at him.
“Tell me about her,” he said. “Maybe, I can get a better feel for the right ring.”
I grinned. “She’s fiercely independent. Never wants help from anyone, not even me. She likes nice things, but she’s ashamed of it. She doesn’t want to seem shallow. And she’s not. God, she’s perceptive … and she knows herself. And she’s kind. Only she doesn’t know she’s kind. She perceives herself as cold, but she has such a good heart.”
When I looked at him, his eyebrows were slightly raised. We laughed at the same time. I leaned over the counter and covered my face with both hands.
“Well, you’re definitely in love,” he said.
“Yes, I am.”
He walked a few steps away and came back with another ring.
“This is from our pricier collection. It’s still a solitaire. But, as you can see, the band is quite unique.”
I took the ring. The center stone was oval in shape with the diamond set east to west. A deviation from the norm, I already think she’d like it. When I looked closer, I noticed that the band had branches and tiny leaves etched in the white gold. The ring had a style common to those worn a century ago. Modern and antique. Just like Olivia.
“This is it,” I said. “It’s perfect since we met under a tree.”
I left the store and walked into the overly warm humidity. Living in Florida felt like you were perpetually existing in a bowl of pea soup. Today, ho
wever, I didn’t care. I was smiling. I had a ring in my pocket. Olivia’s ring. Everyone would think I was crazy for asking a girl to marry me when I hadn’t even had sex with her. That’s why I didn’t bother telling anyone my plans. If my family and friends couldn’t be supportive, then they wouldn’t be included. I didn’t need to have sex with her to know how I felt. She could refuse to have sex with me every day for the rest of our lives and I still would choose her. That’s how deep I was in this.
The plans were in motion. In six weeks I would ask Olivia — no — I would tell Olivia, to marry me. She would probably say no, but I’d just keep asking — or telling. That’s what happened when you were possessed by a woman. All of a sudden you stopped running from love and started breaking all of your own rules … making a fool of yourself. I was okay with that.
I called her cell, tried to keep my voice even.
“Hi,” she breathed.
“Hey, baby.”
There was always a brief pause after we said our hellos. I liked to think of it as the saturation. She told me once that every time she saw my name on her caller I.D. she got butterflies. I got this swelling ache in my chest. It was a good ache — like a heart orgasm.
“I’m making plans for a few weeks from now. I thought we could go away for a couple of days — Daytona maybe.”
She sounded excited. “I’ve never been there.”
“It’s more beach. Another corner of the same ol’ same ol’ Florida. I want to take you to Europe. But, for now, Daytona.”
“Caleb, yeah, I’d like that. Daytona and Europe.”
“Okay,” I said, smiling.
“Okay,” she repeated.
“Hey,” she said after a few seconds. “Don’t get separate rooms.”
I think I tripped over the curb.
“What?”
She laughed.
“Byyye, Caleb.”
“Bye, Duchess.”
I was grinning from ear to ear.
After we hung up, I stopped for an espresso at an outdoor café. I wiped sweat from my forehead as I called a hotel and made reservations. One room: king bed, Jacuzzi tub, view of the ocean. Then I called a florist and ordered three-dozen gardenias. They asked for the delivery address of the hotel and I had to hang up to find it before calling them back. I was laughing in between calls. Out loud. People kept staring, but I couldn’t help it. This was crazy and it made me so happy. I called Cammie, and then thinking better of it, I hung up. Cammie was the closest thing Olivia had to family, but her idea of secret keeping was … not to keep a secret. I wished there was a father to ask — no, I didn’t. I would have punched her father, probably on numerous occasions. My final call was to an old friend who could help me with the last part of my plan. The best part. I wasn’t just going to give her a ring; she needed more than that to see how serious I was.