Such Great Heights

by Sydney Logan

“You’re telling me.”

  “How are you handling it?”

  I consider my answer.

  “Well, let’s see. I’m taking my kid to school every day, picking him up every afternoon, and avoiding his father as much as possible because I’m afraid if he proposes to me again I will lose my mind and say yes.”

  “And you’re punishing him a little.”

  “That’s . . . not my intention.”

  “You want romance. There’s nothing wrong with that, Liv.”

  I sigh tiredly. It sounds so stupid when I try to explain it.

  “Has anyone ever proposed to you, Angel?”

  “Nope.”

  “Me neither! And the very first time a guy proposes to me, I can’t even say yes, because he’s married. Plus, we’ve had one date. I’ve met his parents one time. He hasn’t met mine at all. We know absolutely nothing about each other. Our lives are just too complicated right now. It’s way, way too fast. And yet . . .”

  My voice trails off, but she gets it.

  “And yet, despite all that, you wanted to say yes.”

  I inhale sharply.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  Angel smiles.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that, Olivia. You’re in love with this handsome man and this beautiful little boy. Of course you wanted to say yes.”

  “But the timing’s all wrong.”

  “I know. I think Jackson knows that, too. Maybe he just got carried away. He loves you, Olivia. For the first time in his life, he loves someone who truly loves him back. So he got a little excited. There’s worse things than being with a man who’s so hopelessly in love with you that he can’t wait to make you his wife. Be patient with him. He’ll figure it out.”

  “And Dana? What if she’s right? What if that’s the only reason he proposed?”

  “Do you believe that? Truly?”

  “No, I honestly don’t.”

  “Then don’t worry about it. She doesn’t know her brother’s heart. You do.”

  I’m still thinking about our conversation later that night, as I lay in the living room with Ryder. He’s writing his numbers to one hundred and hating every minute of it.

  “This is zero fun, ‘Livia.”

  I grin. “I know, buddy. But it makes you so smart.”

  Suddenly, the doorbell rings. I’m just about to get up when Hazel appears from the kitchen and heads to the foyer. A moment later, she returns to the living room.

  “There’s someone to see you, Olivia.”

  “Me?”

  She nods. It’s hard to ignore the twinkle in her eye and the gigantic smile on her face.

  Hmm.

  I kiss Ryder’s hair and shoot Hazel a curious look before heading to the door. I’m greeted by an enormous vase filled with lavender roses. The delivery man’s face is hidden behind the beautiful blossoms, but I’d recognize that hair anywhere.

  “Jackson?”

  Very slowly, he peeks around the roses.

  “Yeah. This didn’t really work out like I planned.”

  “They’re beautiful!”

  “They are. And getting heavy . . .”

  “Oh!”

  I take his briefcase and step aside. Jackson places the beautiful flowers on the foyer table.

  “Hi, sweetheart.”

  “Hi.”

  “So, these are for you.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to assume.”

  Jackson sighs heavily and wraps his arms around me.

  “The flowers were supposed to beat me home,” he says tiredly. “Not meet me in the elevator, with a pimply-faced delivery boy who couldn’t wait to get out of here.”

  Laughing softly, I raise on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “Well, you’ve been avoiding me all week,” he says with a mischievous grin. “I needed something to get your attention.”

  “So you thought two dozen purple roses would do the trick?”

  “That’s three dozen, thank you very much. My sister made sure of it.”

  I gaze at the gorgeous flowers and smile.

  “They’re really beautiful, Jackson. Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome. Can I kiss you now?”

  “You’d better.”

  His mouth molds to mine, soft and sweet, and suddenly, I can’t remember why I’ve been avoiding him all week. Why anyone would deny themselves this proves I’m the crazy one in this relationship.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispers against my lips.

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “Daddy!” Ryder squeals and wraps himself around our legs.

  Jackson laughs and lifts the little boy into his arms. Watching the two of them together never fails to take my breath away.

  “He’s missed you this week, too.”

  “And I’ve missed him,” Jackson says, hugging his son tightly before lowering him to the ground. Ryder giggles and heads to the kitchen. Jackson takes my hand and leads me to the living room couch.

  “It’s so nice to be home,” he says tiredly. “I’m sorry I’ve been working so much.”

  “It’s okay. Hazel said it’s a tough case.”

  “It was, but we finally settled today. I’m all yours again . . . if you want me.”

  I snuggle against his chest.

  “I want you. Never doubt that.”

  “Really? Even when I’m an idiot?”

  “You’re not an idiot. You’re just . . . impatient.”

  “I’ll try to be better.”

  “Me, too.”

  Jackson smiles down at me. “You make me so happy. You know that, right?”

  “You make me happy, too. Happier than I’ve ever been.”

  He pulls me closer, and I rest my head on his chest as his fingers ghost up and down my spine. I close my eyes, savoring the moment.

  “Do you really love the flowers?” he asks softly.

  “I really do. I am curious, though. Why lavender?”

  “I’ll tell you . . . on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Let me take you somewhere tomorrow night.”

  I smile up at him. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

  “I am. What do you say?”

  “I say yes. What should I wear?”

  “Those heels you wore to the gala.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Jackson, I really don’t need a fancy date.”

  “It’s not fancy at all. I just really, really like those shoes.”

  I laugh. Men.

  “So, where are we going?”

  “That’s a surprise.”

  “Lots of surprises tonight. You’re going to spoil me.”

  Jackson smiles softly and tenderly cups my cheek.

  “I should’ve been spoiling you all along. I’m sorry.”

  Turning my head, I press a kiss to his palm.

  “I don’t need spoiling, Jackson. I just need you.”

  He kisses me softly, and we only come up for air when Ryder’s voice bounces off the walls.

  “Hazel says dinner’s ready!”

  “This dinner better be amazing,” Jackson mumbles against my lips. “So, tomorrow night?”

  “It’s a date.”

  As the two of us walk into the kitchen to have dinner with our family, I can’t help but feel like a weight’s been lifted. I’m getting exactly what I hoped for—a real first date with the man I love. It’s hard to ignore the butterflies that flutter in my stomach, but I’m not nervous. It’s excitement. It’s anticipation.

  It’s love.

  “You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “Nope.”

  Those butterflies are back again. Okay, maybe I am a little nervous, mostly because this infuriatingly handsome man won’t tell me where he’s taking me.

  “Something you should know about me
,” I tell him as the elevator doors close. “I’m not a huge fan of surprises.”

  Jackson chuckles and takes my hand. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to them, because I plan on surprising you. A lot. Be patient, my love.”

  My love.

  Wow.

  Satisfied with his ability to stun me speechless, Jackson smirks and leans in, kissing me softly. He presses me against the wall, kissing me harder, until the elevator doors open.

  “I promise it’ll be worth the wait,” he says softly.

  I don’t think we’re talking about the date anymore.

  My head spins as I try to catch my breath.

  “Ready to go?”

  All I can do is nod as he leads me out of the building. A sleek, black, luxury SUV awaits us, with a driver standing beside the passenger side door.

  “Good evening, Mr. Healey.”

  “Good evening, Bobby. How’s the family?”

  “Everyone is well, sir. Thank you for asking.” Bobby smiles at me. “And who is this lovely lady?”

  “This is Olivia Stuart.”

  He tips his hat. “Miss Stuart, it’s a pleasure.”

  “Nice to meet you, Bobby.”

  “Bobby works for our firm. He’s going to be our driver tonight.”

  “Our driver? We’re riding in this?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bobby says, opening the door for me. “And I’m happy to report that everything is on schedule.”

  “Hmm. Bobby, I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where we’re going?”

  “No, ma’am. I like my job.”

  “Hmph.”

  The men laugh as I climb inside. The SUV resembles a limo, with its long row of leather seats and chilled champagne. I don’t even drink a lot, but I find myself reaching for two glasses as Jackson slides into the seat next to me.

  “Let me guess,” I say, as Bobby drives us down the road, “this is your first date. Ever. Am I right?”

  Jackson’s forehead creases. “What makes you say that?”

  “A limo and a driver? Really? Not that I’m complaining. This is amazing.”

  “Well, it’s not a limo. It’s an SUV. And Bobby is a trusted employee who works as a driver for our firm.”

  “Law firms need drivers?”

  “We have a lot of out-of-town clients,” he says. “He picks them up at the airport, takes them wherever they need to go in the city, then takes them back to the airport when it’s time to go home.”

  Jackson doesn’t talk much about his work, so I’m weirdly fascinated.

  “I’m embarrassed to ask, but what kind of law do you practice?”

  “Why embarrassed?”

  “I’m just constantly surprised how little we know about each other.”

  “Kinda like me with the roses. The florist asked for your favorite flower, and I had no idea what to tell him.” Jackson sighs softly. “We really have done everything backwards, haven’t we?”

  I nod. “But we can fix it. Tell me about your job, and I’ll tell you my favorite flower.”

  As Bobby drives us around town, Jackson tells me about his job at the firm. He used to be a patent attorney, but now he specializes in Entertainment Law. I’m fascinated to learn that his firm represents some of the biggest artists in country music, although he can’t tell me their names due to attorney-client privilege. It makes sense, considering we live in Nashville. I guess I just didn’t realize that my boyfriend rubs shoulders with the rich and famous.

  “It’s mostly contracts—pretty boring stuff,” he explains. “But it does come with some perks. Like tonight, for instance.”

  I pretend to pout. “I don’t even get a hint?”

  “Nope.”

  “But I wore the heels. See?”

  I show off the death traps I wore to the gala. Jackson’s eyes momentarily glaze over, and I hear him take a deep breath.

  “Fine. We’re going to a concert.”

  “Ooh! I like concerts.”

  “That’s what I hear. And apparently, you love this artist. At least, that’s what she said.”

  “Who?”

  “My annoyingly helpful sister.”

  I grin. “Are we going to the Opry? The Ryman?”

  “No, but that can be our next date if you want. Those tickets are pretty easy to get. These . . . not so much. I really had to pull some strings since it’s sold out.”

  The SUV comes to a stop, and I glance out the tinted windows hoping for a clue. And I find it, right there on the marquee sign at Bridgestone Arena.

  “ADELE?” My heart thunders in my chest. “This show’s been sold out for months!”

  Jackson grins. “Perks. Remember?”

  Tears well in my eyes.

  “I love her,” I whisper reverently.

  Leaning over, Jackson kisses my temple.

  “And I love you,” he says softly.

  “Best first date ever.”

  Jackson grins and pours us another glass of champagne. “I had no idea you loved Adele so much. I think you knew every word to every song.”

  “I was pretty depressed this past summer. Her music helped me a lot.”

  “Why depressed?”

  “Because I couldn’t find a teaching job. I know that probably sounds silly . . . to be sad about something like that. But I needed to work, and I’d busted my tail to get my degree. I was just so, so miserable and had no idea what I was going to do.”

  I think back to August, with me wallowing in my little apartment, listening to Adele and eating takeout for weeks on end. I had no idea how much my life was about to change.

  “But then your sister showed up, uninvited, and asked if I wanted to be her nephew’s nanny.”

  “Thank God for my sister,” Jackson says softly, tenderly caressing my face. “I’m so glad you said yes.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Speaking of my sister,” he says. “I didn’t even want to bring this up, but I want to be very clear about something. I know Dana put an idea in your head . . . about why I proposed.”

  I shake my head. “Jackson, don’t. I know that’s not the reason.”

  “You do?”

  “I do.”

  “Good.”

  After the concert, neither of us were ready for the evening to end, so Jackson asked Bobby to drive us around town. Nashville’s incredibly beautiful at night, but I couldn’t focus on the lights of the city. I was too mesmerized by the handsome man at my side.

  “Jackson?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why lavender roses?”

  “Because Dana wouldn’t let me pick the red ones.”

  I laugh. Dana probably thought red roses were too cliché.

  “And because the florist said lavender roses express feelings of love at first sight,” he continues. “I’ve loved you since the moment you walked through my door, so I thought lavender was perfect.”

  Tears fill my eyes. Again.

  “I really hope those are happy tears,” Jackson says, gently ghosting his fingers across my cheek. I simply nod, too overwhelmed to formulate a coherent response.

  He tells Bobby to take us home before pulling me into his arms.

  “Jackson, I have a confession to make.” I lift my eyes to his and hope I can make him understand. “I was avoiding you this past week because . . . I was afraid you’d propose again, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from saying yes. I wanted to say yes. I just knew the timing was off. There’s still so much we don’t know about each other. But tonight . . . tonight has been so wonderful, and I didn’t want it to end without you knowing that. I love you, Jackson. And I wanted to say yes.”

  He kisses me then, soft and sweet. And when his eyes find mine once again, it’s impossible to ignore the love there.

  “I love you, too,” he says softly. “And I’ll ask again. Someday.”

  “And when you do, I’ll say yes.”

  Jackson presses his forehead to mine.

  “I want to t
ake you home, Olivia. Not to the penthouse, but home to meet my parents. I want them to officially meet you . . . not as Ryder’s nanny, but as the woman I love.”

  This was a huge step. Monumental, even. But I was ready.

  With a soft smile, I slide my arms around his neck.

  “I want to take you home, too.”

  “She’s late.”

  “Of course she is.” Marcus reaches for the pitcher of water on the table and pours me a glass. “You know, neither of you had to be here for this.”

  “I know, Marcus.”

  “Uncontested divorces don’t require you to appear in court. But she insisted. And now we’re waiting. You really didn’t think she’d make this easy, did you?”

  With a heavy sigh, I glance down at my phone. Natasha is now twenty minutes late. All we had to do was sign the papers in my office, but no. She insisted on signing in front of a judge. I’ve been waiting for months, and here we sit—without Natasha and with an impatient judge on the bench.

  “Where’s your client, Counselor?” the judge asks again. “I have another case on my docket at 10:30.”

  Natasha’s new lawyer, who looks all of twelve and fresh out of law school, clears his throat. “I’m not sure, Your Honor. Mrs. Healey isn’t returning my calls.”

  “She has ten minutes. And I won’t be able to reschedule this hearing for . . .” the judge checks his docket, “another two weeks.”

  Oh, hell no.

  “Mr. Healey,” the judge says, “I know this isn’t your job, but perhaps you could call your wife? Maybe she’ll pick up the phone for you. Anything to move this along.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Reaching into my jacket pocket, I grab my phone and glance at the screen. That’s when I notice four missed calls and a voice mail, all from numbers I don’t recognize.

  I ignore them for the moment and call Natasha.

  “No answer,” I mutter.

  Then, I check the voice mail, and my blood runs cold.

  “Mr. Healey, this is TriStar Centennial Medical Center. We’ve been trying to reach you regarding your wife. If you could come to the emergency room as soon as . . .”

  Olivia!

  I don’t even listen to the rest of the message.

  I grab my briefcase. “I have to go.”

  “What’s wrong?” Marcus asks, leaping to his feet.

  “Olivia . . . the hospital . . . I have to go.”

  In a blind panic, I race out the door.