by Cat Lavoie
“Really?” I ask, in my most nonchalant tone.
He nods. “Rachel said I could come visit the baby whenever I wanted but I wouldn’t be allowed to see or talk to you.”
I don’t know why this surprises me at all. “You’re obviously breaking the conditions of your parole right now,” I say, shaking my head.
“No, I’m not. I broke up with Rachel before flying over here. I knew I’d never be able to ignore you when I came back home. And then I got a call from Mr. Brent about ten minutes later telling me that I was fired. Turns out dumping your boss’ daughter isn’t the best career move. And the London office won’t touch me with a ten-foot pole now that the big boss hates me. I’ve been blacklisted.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say. It’s one thing to quit a job you hate, but Ollie loved his. I want to ask him what he’s going to do and if he’s going to come back to New York, but there’s something else I need to know right now. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Steffi wasn’t even close to her due date. You couldn’t have known she was going to go into labor. So why did you come back?”
Ollie takes a deep breath. “When you’ve been crazy about a girl since the fourth grade and her sister calls you and says she’s crazy about you too but she can’t admit it to herself, you’d be stupid not to drop everything and take a chance.”
Izzie. There goes her resolution to stay out of my business. Somehow, I’m not mad at her. Somehow, I’m almost glad she did what she did.
When Ollie stands up and reaches out for my hand, I give it to him without a second thought. And when his face is barely inches from mine, I wrap my arms around him and press him close to me.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you, too.” I can’t believe this is happening. But it feels so right. I pull away from him slightly and brush my lips against his. I smile and kiss him again and this time our mouths move together for the longest time. It’s the kind of kiss that takes your breath away, and, in our case, makes you forget where you are.
“And this is how it all begins,” Doctor Bradford says, flashing a pearly smile and walking past us with a group of eager med students hanging on to his every word. One of them scribbles something on his clipboard.
Ollie and I laugh and sit down. He drapes his arm over my shoulders as we watch Doctor Bradford and his team walk down the hall. We are now official teaching tools for the maternity ward.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” I say, fishing an envelope out of my pocket. “This is a voucher for a free meal at Lucas Williams’ restaurant. Would you like to go out with me?”
“Roxy, this is Greta’s dry cleaning receipt,” Ollie says, trying not to laugh.
I must have taken the wrong paper in my haste to make a dramatic exit.
“Kids, come see,” Mom says, popping her head out of Steffi’s room. “Cameron is smiling.”
It doesn’t take long for my parents and my sisters to put the puzzle pieces together. As soon as Ollie and I walk back into Steffi’s room, he grabs my hand and stays glued to my side. I see Dad smile at Mom out of the corner of my eye but nobody says anything. I’ve spent most of the day answering questions, so it feels good to let things happen without having to explain myself.
My mother’s enthusiasm for Cameron’s smiles doesn’t waver even when Nurse Goody informs her that they’re most likely gas. We stare at the baby and wait for her mouth to twitch until Steffi tells us to go home and get some rest.
“Yeah, let’s go home,” Ollie says, resting his hand on the small of my back. “We’ll come back later tonight.”
Everyone in the room stares at Ollie and me, barely able to hide their smiles. Cameron could be performing cartwheels at this very moment and no one would notice.
As soon as Ollie and I step out of the hospital, my phone starts ringing. I let go of Ollie’s hand and answer, expecting it to be Steffi asking us to bring her real food from the outside world.
“Roxy, this is Rachel.”
“Oh.”
I look over at Ollie and I’m sure he can read the panic all over my face. “Who is it?” he mouths.
“I’m guessing Oliver is with you.”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you that we broke up?”
This feels like an interrogation. Sweat starts to tickle the nape of my neck and I look away from Ollie. “Um, yes.”
“You must be really proud of yourself now, huh?”
My head jerks up. “What? Rachel, I never...”
At the sound of Rachel’s name, Ollie shakes his head. “Give me the phone,” he says.
“Please, Roxy. I don’t want to hear it. You know what? You two deserve each other. And you know what else? Once a cheater, always a cheater.”
I don’t know what to say. I should hang up but the phone stays glued to my ear. She’s been crying, I can hear it in her voice.
“Rachel, I’m so sorry ...”
She laughs and it’s a low throaty growl. There’s nothing I can say and I know it.
“One last thing, Roxy. Ask Oliver about the supposed promotion he got. Ask him to tell you about how he begged my father, how he went to him and groveled to get that promotion when Daddy had already chosen someone else. Ask him to tell you about how he couldn’t bear to live with you another minute and did everything he could to move away from you. That little farewell party you threw for him? It was all based on a lie. Go ahead, ask him about that.”
My mouth is dry and I’m gripping the phone so hard my knuckles are white.
Before I can say anything, the line goes dead and I plop down on a bench.
“What did she say?” Ollie asks, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Did you get the promotion or did you have to beg for it?”
Ollie shakes his head. “I can’t believe she...”
“Ollie, please answer the question.”
“Does it really matter?”
He grabs my hand but I yank it away. “It matters to me.”
“I was messed up. I had these feelings for you that I couldn’t deal with and I still felt guilty about Steffi and I just had to leave.”
“Why couldn’t you just talk to me? Why did you have to come up with this huge elaborate story?”
“Would it have made a difference? Would you have broken up with Ethan? Would it have done anything besides make everything awkward between us? I thought it was better to just go away for a while and think things over. To be sure.”
“And now you’re sure?”
“100% ... are you?”
I am. So why can’t I say it?
Ollie nods. “Oh, okay. Maybe I should just go sleep over at Mike’s tonight and give you a bit of space. Can I call you in the morning?”
He looks so hurt that my heart sinks. I nod, tears streaming down my cheeks. Say something, Roxy. Say something that will make everything all right again. Say something that will bring you back to five minutes ago.
I stand motionless as Ollie kisses my cheek and runs his hand over my arm. “Talk to you later.” He smiles at me and I try to smile back but my face feels like stone. I watch him get into a cab and drive away.
What am I doing? I love this boy. I’ve let him drive away from me too many times. But Rachel’s angry voice keeps ringing in my ears. Once a cheater, always a cheater. I tune her out as best I can. If this is a mistake, then it’s my mistake to make.
I grab my phone and punch in Ollie’s number as fast as possible. My fingers keep slipping and it takes me three tries before I get it right.
“Roxy,” he answers.
I still don’t know what I’m going to say but at least I have him on the line. I take a deep breath. “If we’re going to do this, I have to make something clear. If you ever do to me what you did to Rachel, I’m going to have Tali kick the shit out of you. Please don’t think I’m kidding about that one. And you need to take care of Steffi and Cameron. They have to be your top priority. And no more hiding th
ings from me.”
“Okay,” Ollie says, not missing a beat. “I promise.”
I’ve never read the riot act to anyone before. Now I know why Izzie loves it so much. I almost wish he’d argued with me. Almost.
“And one more thing,” I add, my heart racing. “Do you think we could share a cab? You know, to go back home?”
“Only if you’re sure.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
I hear Ollie tell the driver to go back to the hospital and, a minute later, the cab screeches to a halt at my feet.
I’m about to jump into Ollie’s arms when my cell phone rings again. We both look at it resting in my hand. What now? Am I going to find out that Ollie isn’t an architect or that his name isn’t even Ollie?
“Hello?” I answer.
“Oh my God, Roxy. I’m so glad you picked up. I know this is very short notice but one of my cooks just quit and the place is packed and Jenny and I are just about to go crazy and...”
I smile into the phone. “I’ll be right over, Adam.”
Ollie takes my hand and we climb into the cab. “We’re going to be all right, aren’t we?” he asks, kissing my forehead and tucking a lock of hair behind my ear while he waits for my answer.
How can I put into words what I’m thinking right now? It’s like I’m strapped into a giant roller coaster and it’s getting ready to take off at any second. And instead of being terrified and looking for a way out, I can’t wait for it to start moving. I crave the feel of the wind whipping my face and the rush of blood that’s going to make me dizzy.
I lower his face to mine and kiss him. “More than all right.”
I can see in his eyes that he believes me and—best of all—I know I believe it too. I put my arm around Ollie and settle in for the ride.
Epilogue - One Year Later
To: Roxy Rule [email protected]
From: Oliver J Frost [email protected]
Subject: Le Airport
_______________________________________
* * *
Bonjour Ma Cheri!
* * *
I’m so happy you’re coming home tomorrow. I’ve missed you so much... I’ve lost ten pounds and I can’t wait to gain them back while trying all the fancy new recipes you’ve learned in Paris.
* * *
Your mother and Steffi are out shopping, so I’m babysitting Cameron right now. I think we might have a future little chef on our hands because she loves banging on your pots and pans. Not that I’m letting her play with your pots and pans! (Sorry!)
* * *
So I’ll pick you up tomorrow at the airport. I may or may not be holding a huge sign with balloons. Still have a few hours to decide...
* * *
Love you. Miss you.
Ciao! (Yes, I know. That’s Italian, not French.)
Ollie. xx
As it turns out, I’m not a big fan of flying either. When I flew to Paris a month ago, I spent the entire flight with my fingernails planted deep inside the armrest. And now I’m flying back home and the same crippling fear is there. The lady beside me is so calm, flipping through a magazine as the plane hits a series of air pockets. I wish I had listened to the flight attendant’s little speech at the beginning. What do I do again if the plane starts to nosedive towards the Atlantic Ocean? Why did I ever make fun of Ollie’s irrational fear of flying? It’s a pretty good fear to have, if you’re going to have a fear. Why be afraid of spiders when you can be afraid of being stuck in a big metal tube 30,000 feet in the air? I close my eyes and try one of Emma’s relaxation techniques. Taking a deep breath, I try to focus on positive thoughts: Ollie, home, Cameron...
I can’t believe that Cameron’s first birthday is only a few days away. A lot has happened in a year. Two months after quitting Kilborn PR, I started a catering company from my tiny kitchen. And then I waited for my first order. And waited. When it finally came, I stayed up all night making dinosaur cupcakes and dinosaur-shaped sandwiches for little Jimmy’s birthday party. Ollie was there cheering me on when I wanted to collapse and give up. Since then, business has been steady. It helps that my parents and friends have been giving out my business card to everyone they meet. And leaving them in restaurants and grocery stores and parks. Littering, basically. But it’s for a good cause and it’s quite nice to see everyone so enthusiastic about what I’m doing. It doesn’t hurt that whenever they come over to the apartment there’s always something cooking that needs to be tasted. Adam has also put a few of my dishes on the Quid’s menu. He hasn’t fired me yet but I know he can’t wait for the day.
Rule Catering is doing its first wedding in a few months and it’s a special project for me since Emma is the bride. So what finally got Dean off the couch? Simple. Emma sold the couch. After all of her tricks and schemes failed, she posted a listing online and two college guys came to the apartment and took the couch away. A few days later—after unsuccessfully trying to buy it back—Dean decided to trade the sweat pants for a business suit and look for a job. He proposed to Emma on her birthday in front of all her friends. We laughed, we cried, we starting planning the menu.
The plane starts shaking again and the seat belt sign comes on. “This is your captain speaking.” The intercom is full of static and I concentrate to hear over the sound of people talking. “Please fasten your seatbelts, we will be landing soon.”
My seat belt has been fastened from the moment I sat down, but I pull on it again until it’s so tight that I can hardly feel my toes. I peek out my tiny window and see the New York City lights. I want to be down there so bad. I want to see my sisters and Cameron and Ollie. If only the pilot would hurry up. It feels like we’ve been in the air for days. On second thought, I think it’s good that he’s taking his time. No need to rush and be careless. We’ll get there soon enough.
Paris was so beautiful and I miss it already. I’ve brought back so many cookbooks and souvenirs that I think my excess luggage might be the reason we’re going so slow. And it all happened because of a craving for raspberry tarts from the Pocheville Bakery. After leaving Kilborn, I tried to avoid going anywhere close to my old building. I didn’t know how I would react if I ran into Greta. But it didn’t take long for my stomach to get the best of me and I risked running into my old boss to get to the pastries. Monsieur and Madame Pocheville were happy to see me and sat me down and fed me tarts and coffee. I told them all about quitting my job and working at the Quid and starting a catering business. That’s when they reminded me that their nephew owns a pastry shop in the heart of Paris. It only took a phone call and an animated conversation in impossible-to-follow French and I had a formal invitation. I could go work in Charles Pocheville’s bakery for a month. I wouldn’t be paid, but I could stay in the empty apartment above his bakery and have evenings and weekends free to explore the city. It was a crazy idea. I didn’t want to leave now that I was starting a business. And I didn’t want to be separated from Ollie now that we were starting a new life together. And then there was Cameron. She seemed to change in the blink of an eye and I dreaded the thought of missing an important milestone. But I knew that this was my chance to visit a city I’ve always wanted to see and to learn from a real pastry chef. If I didn’t go now, when would I get that chance again?
So I went. And it was better than my wildest dreams. The first time I stood under the Eiffel Tower and looked up at the Paris sky, I cried like a baby. I cried so hard strangers stopped me and asked if I was okay. I cried for Ollie and how much I love him. I cried for Ethan and how bad I feel about hurting him. I cried for my beautiful baby niece and how she ended up bringing the whole family together. But mostly I cried because I was finally there. In Paris. On my own. Happy and hopeful are two words I never thought I’d use to describe my state of mind but—standing there under the bright city lights—I almost felt invincible.
I scan the crowd assembled around the Arrivals gate and look for Ollie and his sign. I only find Ollie, ho
lding a bouquet of flowers. No sign. No balloons. Thank God.
I run up to him, almost tripping over my own suitcase. “I missed you,” I say, kissing him.
“Not as much as I’ve missed you. Now let’s get you home.”
Home. It took a lot of effort, but Ollie and I were able to stay in our apartment. Even when it felt like every single penny we were earning went to pay rent, it was worth it. We turned the extra room into an office and that’s where Ollie works as a freelance writer. After months of trying to find a job with another firm, he discovered that he liked writing about architecture just as much as actually designing buildings. Dad is so happy to have a writer in the family. Even though Ollie doesn’t write about forbidden love in Victorian England, he does sometimes write about buildings from that era and that’s close enough for Dad.
“I’m really looking forward to a quiet evening,” I say, stepping out of the cab in front of the apartment.
Ollie nods. “Yup. Quiet. Very, very quiet.”
I could tell him that I see Adam sticking his head out of the window but I don’t want to ruin his surprise. Ollie carries my suitcase and acts as though he’s forgotten his keys when he gets to the door.
“I’ll open it,” I say. Taking a deep breath, I unlock the door and brace for it.
“Welcome home!”
I don’t even have to pretend to act surprised because I genuinely am. It’s a bit overwhelming to have all the people I love assembled in the same room, looking at me and smiling. I hug my parents and pick up Cameron, who starts tapping my cheeks with her tiny hands.
“She missed you,” Steffi says, hugging me.
“I missed you too, Cammie Q,” I say, ruffling her curly red hair. She smiles and turns into the spitting image of her father.