by Monroe, Max
And by the time we’d landed, my head ached and my body felt about as good as it did the day after Jordy and I had hiked to that fucking waterfall.
When I reached baggage claim, I turned on my phone to round up another Uber ride, and the instant the screen lit up, several missed calls and text messages filled my eyes.
All of them from Ollie.
Where are you, little fire? I miss you. I NEED to see you tonight. No excuses. It’s happening.
I just went to your hotel room, and you weren’t there. Are you okay?
Call me back, please. I’m starting to get worried over here…
Obviously, I had to respond to him. I couldn’t let him think something bad had happened to me and start sending out a search party.
But I couldn’t really say, Oh, hey, I left because I think something is going on with you and your ex, and I’m too deep in love in with you that I literally can’t handle it.
So, I typed out a quick, albeit slightly awkward, response.
Oh, sorry. I had to leave to go home last minute.
He texted back only thirty seconds later and asked, What do you mean, go home?
And I responded with, I had to take a last-minute flight back to New York because of a meeting with my editor that I almost forgot about.
His shock was evident. You’re in New York? Right now?
I let him know I had just landed, and his following text was filled with confusion and questions about why I hadn’t told him. Why hadn’t I said goodbye? Why hadn’t I let him take me to the airport?
And my gut instinct screamed at me that I’d really made a mess of things.
But I ignored it and just sent him a short apology and reiterated the fact—well, more like, the lie—that it had all been sudden.
It had done nothing to help his confusion or iron out the awkwardness of our conversation.
Is everything okay, Lucky? he asked, and I simply responded with, Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?
But my vague answer didn’t encourage him to drop the discussion. Well, from my end of things, it kind of feels like you’ve been avoiding me the past few days…
I outright denied my avoidance, and his next response disarmed me a bit.
I miss you, Lucky. So much. And I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that I’m a bit devastated I didn’t get to see you before you left. Because I am.
His words did not match what I thought was really going on.
It was so fucking confusing. And a huge part of me felt insanely guilty that I hadn’t been honest with him from the start. That I’d let it reach a point where I had to hightail it to New York and avoid him completely because the emotions I felt had been too damn intense and painful to face head on.
But then my second thoughts kicked in, the ones that were littered with baggage from my past, and I refused to be the dumb girl who got caught up in things like I miss you instead of seeing the bigger picture.
So, I simply ended the conversation by telling him I needed to get my bags and head to my apartment and I’d see him soon.
I knew he was planning to come to New York too, to see Allie before heading to France, but that was later and this was now, and the vague excuse seemed like the perfect raft to use until I came across that bridge and had to cross it.
And his response to that?
Okay.
It was the opposite of what I’d expected from Ollie.
The man very rarely let anything get past him, and if he thought something else was going on and I wasn’t telling him, he’d pester me about it until I did tell him.
I half expected a phone call from him.
But my phone never rang.
And as I hopped into an Uber, I felt so damn god-awful about all of it.
I didn’t feel relief at being home.
I actually felt worse than when I’d booked my last-minute flight.
And I couldn’t go a single minute without thinking about him.
[sighs]
God, guys. Don’t fall in love. Fall off a fucking bridge. It probably hurts less.
* * *
Episode 21: “I’m bad at love.”
So, I’d arrived in New York on a Sunday evening, and I’d kept myself busy for the entire week. Like, insanely busy, you guys. I pretty much did anything and everything I could to distract myself from thoughts of Ollie.
Truthfully, it hadn’t worked out all that well, but by the time Thursday hit, I’d managed three full days in the office, lunch with my sisters, and an impromptu visit to my dad’s veterinary office where I helped him check out a laundry basket of eight-week-old Labrador puppies.
God, they were cute.
And I was half tempted to take one home with me, but my work and travel schedule would not allow for a furbaby.
[deep sigh]
But I hadn’t heard a fucking peep from Ollie, and by the end of that week, I’d had to stop myself what felt like a million times from texting or calling him.
The only reason I probably never followed through was because I had no idea what to say.
A simple hello or how are you felt too weird after everything.
And getting into the logistics of what had really gone down via a text message or phone call felt wrong, too.
Fortunately, that night, I would be one hundred percent distracted.
I had dinner plans with Allie and her husband Sam, and I was beyond excited to catch up with my best friend outside of Scoop’s offices.
Between her doctor’s appointments this week and my various lunch plans with my family, we’d seen each other for all of fifteen minutes since I’d landed in New York.
The dinner was needed.
And a true blessing in disguise.
Sitting at home at night, faced with the freedom to let my mind wander and think about Ollie had proven to be a fight I wasn’t equipped to handle.
We’d agreed on Del Posto, an Italian restaurant in Chelsea, and because I was running a good ten minutes behind schedule, I snagged a cab instead of choosing the easy-on-my-wallet subway option.
For seven o’clock on a late-summer Thursday night, traffic hadn’t been too difficult, and I’d managed to step through the front doors of Del Posto only two minutes late.
I looked around the restaurant and spotted Allie’s bright blond hair peeking above the crowd and located in the back of the room.
I kindly let the hostess know I’d spotted my friends and headed in Allie and Sam’s direction.
But as I walked past the bar and obtained a full view of where they sat, I nearly tripped on my stilettos when I spotted not two but three people sitting at the table.
Allie, Sam, and Ollie.
Trust me, I was more than shocked at the sight of him. As far as I’d known, he wasn’t due in New York for another day or two.
And if it weren’t for the fact that his brown gaze locked with mine, I might’ve been tempted to haul ass right out of that restaurant and fake some excuse about being too ill to make dinner.
But I was trapped. In the restaurant, in his gaze, and my only option was to face the fucking music.
I made my way to the table and forced a smile to my face as I greeted everyone.
Both Allie and Sam stood to give me friendly hugs, and Ollie did the same. Only, when he wrapped me into a tight embrace, I had the odd reaction of wanting to sob into his shoulder.
It was entirely inappropriate and made zero sense.
I forced a tight, cleansing breath in and out of my lungs and sat down in the open seat beside Allie.
Unfortunately, that seat also happened to be directly across from Ollie.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Allie said once we all were in our seats. “But Ollie surprised me by showing up early, so I invited him to join us.”
I cleared my throat and forced what was probably a brittle smile to my lips. “Of course, I don’t mind.”
I minded. I really fucking minded.
But I understood. Allie almost never got to see an
yone in her family.
Plus, I’d yet to tell her anything about what had happened between Ollie and me.
Yeah, talk about a disaster…
“When did you get in?” I asked him and met his eyes.
“This afternoon.”
“That’s…fun.”
“Yep.” He nodded and searched my gaze—for what, I wasn’t sure.
After about ten seconds of his intense eye contact, I had to avert my eyes to my menu just to find reprieve.
God, this was awkward. The tension so damn thick, you could cut it with a knife.
There were so many things I wanted to say, wanted to ask him, but now was not the time or the place.
Not to mention, Allie was completely clueless to it all.
“So, what’s everyone ordering?” I asked and then glanced toward Allie and laughed when I realized it was a ridiculous question. There was only one reason she came to Del Posto, and it was for the spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread.
She grinned. “Am I that transparent?”
“Just a little,” I teased. “I’m guessing your baby has joined in on your Italian-loving food ways.”
Sam laughed at that. “Italian has become a four-nights-a-week kind of thing at this point.”
“We don’t eat it that much,” she tried to retort, but her husband raised a knowing brow. “Okay, fine, we probably do, but I can’t help it!” she exclaimed. “These pregnancy food cravings are intense.”
Ollie looked at his sister and smiled. “You know, the Arsen family is known for having big babies.”
“Shut up, Ols,” she said and flipped him the bird.
He just laughed it off, and when the waiter came to take our food and drink orders, I thought, maybe, just maybe, this dinner wouldn’t be so bad.
But once our menus were cleared from the table and our drinks were set before us, Allie rested her elbows on the table and glanced between Ollie and me. “So,” she started with a little smile. “How’s it been going for the past few months? You two been getting along okay?”
“It’s been good,” Ollie said and met my eyes. “I think I’ve been more than accommodating when it comes to showing Lucky a good time.”
Obviously, my hopeful expectations for the dinner had come too soon.
Allie looked at me, and I forced another smile. “Yep. It’s been good.”
“Just good?” she asked and rolled her eyes. “You’ve been to Sydney and Bali and Tahiti and South Africa and California! Tell me it’s been a little more exciting than just good.”
“Lucky went exploring in Tahiti. Even visited one of the most beautiful waterfalls on the island.” Ollie smiled at me, but it wasn’t a smile I liked all that much. “Why don’t you tell her about your hike to that Tahitian waterfall with Jordy?”
“With Jordy?” Allie asked. “Jordy Fuller?”
“Yep,” Ollie chimed in, and his voice was tight around the edges. “She and Jordy have spent a lot of time together throughout the competitions. I think they’re real good buddies at this point. Isn’t that right, Lucky?”
Was he insinuating that I had something going on with Jordy?
Like, a more than friends kind of something?
And more than that, was he actually angry about it?
The man who had unfinished business with his ex-fiancée had some fucking nerve, that was for sure.
“Jordy and I are good friends,” I said, and I couldn’t hide the irritation in my voice. “Just friends.”
“Really good friends,” Ollie added, and I glared.
The mood of our conversation took a nose dive, and when both Allie and Sam started glancing at one another in confusion, I knew we were doing a shit job of hiding the fact that Ollie and I knew each other as more than just acquaintances.
And the urge to lay into him was so strong that I couldn’t stop the next words from spilling from my mouth. “Why don’t you ask Ollie about Amelia? Apparently, the two of them have really made some serious headway on possibly reuniting.”
Ollie’s jaw dropped at my words, and Allie cleared her throat awkwardly.
“Uh…what’s going on, guys?”
“I’m not sure, Allie,” Ollie retorted, but his eyes never left mine. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself for the past week and a half, but Lucky here is real bloody good at avoidance.”
I knew he was right.
You know he was right.
But my anger had reached a code red level, and that doesn’t exactly equate to rational thoughts or words.
“Avoidance?” I questioned with wide eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, c’mon,” he said on a sharp laugh. “You’ve been avoiding me ever since the night I spent in your hotel room. Well, avoiding me, but definitely not avoiding your friend Jordy.”
“Wait…what?” Allie asked and looked at Sam with wide eyes. “You spent the night in Lucky’s hotel room?”
God, I knew my best friend had just been steamrolled by our outbursts, but the train kept chugging along. “That’s real fucking fresh coming from the man who lied to me about his past!”
“Lied to you? When did I fucking lie to you?”
“Uh…guys…you’re getting really loud,” Allie said quietly, but we were too far gone to listen.
“When you told me you’d never had a serious relationship before,” I responded through gritted teeth. “When you said you sold your beach house because you never had time to visit it. When you fucking told me you had a business dinner, when, in fact, you had dinner with your ex-fiancée!”
“So this is why you’ve been avoiding me,” he said, and his lips turned into a tight, firm line. “You’ve apparently got it all figured out, huh? I’m just a bastard like the rest of your ex-boyfriends, and I’m going behind your back with my ex-fiancée. Does that sum it all up, Lucky?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, sweetheart, you are so bloody wrong about all of it, I don’t even know where to start.”
“Why don’t you start with actually telling me the goddamn truth?”
“The truth?” he all but shouted. “But, Lucky, you don’t want the bloody truth. You want to do what you’ve done with the rest of your relationships. You want to find a reason to run. You want to find a reason to keep your walls up and to never fully give yourself to someone.”
“What!” I exclaimed. “You don’t know shit about me or my past relationships!”
“I know enough,” he retorted. “Trust me, I know enough.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“No,” he snapped and lifted his napkin from his lap to toss it on his plate. “I’m not an asshole. I’m just a man who fell in love with a woman who is completely incapable of letting herself fall too.”
[shaky breath]
His words were so harsh that I couldn’t stop tears from pricking my eyes.
“Bullshit,” I said and tried to blink back the emotion. “You don’t know how I feel. You don’t know the torture I’ve lived through watching you with your ex-fiancée. You don’t know how it’s felt for me to see the two of you together and finding out about the depth of your relationship, that you were fucking engaged, and then, reading articles about you reuniting and shit. You don’t know how it’s torn me up inside!” I shouted, and then I stood up from my seat and pointed an index finger in his direction as tears started to slip from my eyes. “You don’t know anything! And you definitely don’t know that you’ve basically stomped all over my goddamn heart!”
“Lucky, wait a minute.” He whispered my name like a prayer, but I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
“No, fuck you,” I said, and before he could get a word in, I grabbed my purse, leaned over and kissed Allie on the cheek, whispered “I’m so sorry,” and all but sprinted out of that restaurant, just in time for me to lose it on the sidewalk.
Big, fat tears drenched my cheeks, and I hopped in a cab sitting right outside the front doors of Del Posto.
&
nbsp; “You okay, miss?” the cabbie asked me, and I shook my head.
“No, but I need you to take me to SoHo as fast as you can.”
I gave him the address, and he stepped on the gas. And when I glanced over my shoulder and toward the restaurant, I caught sight of Ollie rushing through the restaurant doors and out onto the sidewalk.
[sobs quietly]
Fuck, I honestly didn’t realize this story would be so hard to tell…
I just…yeah… I’m sorry. Give me a second here, and I’ll get it together…
[long pause and emotional breath]
So, by the time I’d made it home that night, my phone had several missed calls and text messages from both Ollie and Allie and even Sam.
Sam wanted to make sure I made it home okay.
I responded back to him with Yes, I’m home. And I’m really sorry about dinner.
Allie told me I had a lot of explaining to do, but also that she knew I probably needed a little space before I would be able to talk about it.
I sent her a quick I love you and I’m sorry.
And Ollie, well, he wanted to see me.
Where are you? Are you okay? Let me see you. We need to talk, Lucky.
And I’d responded with the only thing I could.
No.
I’d given him the chance to speak the truth.
Albeit, it hadn’t really been the time or the place for us to hash it out in the middle of a fucking Italian restaurant in front of his sister, but still, he could have denied all the Amelia stuff.
He could have told me his side of the story.
Instead, it felt like he’d deflected it all back toward me with cruel words and accusations of me being unable to fall in love. Insinuating that I was some sort of love pariah who was the main reason none of my relationships had ever worked out.
I knew I was bad at love, but I wasn’t incapable of falling for someone.