Hate to Want You

by Alisha Rai

  The silent line galvanized her into moving, like Sadia’s urgency had been transferred to her. Livvy pulled on her leggings from the night before and ran a brush through her hair, forgoing makeup in favor of running out the door. She was aware she looked like a mess, but she didn’t have time to don her usual armor.

  It wasn’t until she tried to start her car that she remembered Ruthie wasn’t doing so hot. The poor girl sputtered and died. As preoccupied as Livvy was, a spurt of sadness coursed through her and she stroked the car’s steering wheel. Silly to feel sentimental over a car, but her parents had given Ruthie to her. She’d seen Livvy through everything.

  A horn cut through her sadness, and she glanced out her window to find Maile and her mom sitting next to her in their little Kia. Livvy got out of Ruthie and Maile rolled down her window. “We’ll give you a ride.”

  “How did you . . . ?” Oh. Speakerphone. The invention of the devil. “Guys, actually, I can drive myself.”

  “For crying out loud, Olivia, get in the car,” Tani said, with great impatience. “And don’t frown so much. You’re already getting wrinkles.”

  Do not get sidetracked by that beautiful blunt criticism.

  Maile drove like a bat out of hell, but Livvy was too distracted to so much as clutch at the armrest in the back. When they were within eyesight of the store, she gasped.

  “Well,” Tani murmured.

  Maile drove closer. Multiple young men stood at each entrance of the parking lot, turning cars away. Would they be allowed in?

  “Turn here,” she told her aunt.

  When Maile pulled into the lot, the teenager there bent over, peered into the car, caught sight of her and smiled widely. He waved them in.

  Maile parked in the spot closest to the entrance. Livvy fumbled with her belt and tumbled out. She was so focused on the sign, she barely noticed her mother and Maile also getting out of the car.

  NICO + LIVVY = 4EVER

  Holy shit. Holy shit.

  A-plus signage indeed.

  The white banner was humongous, covering the Chandler’s name entirely. It could probably be seen from the sky. She dragged the back of her hand over her mouth.

  “What was he thinking?” she whispered.

  “Livvy.”

  Livvy’s attention darted to the entrance. Eve stood there, a folder in hand, looking poised and polished in a sensible business suit. Unable to resist getting to the bottom of Nicholas’s apparent break with his senses and reality, Livvy staggered to Eve. “What’s going on? What is this?”

  Eve handed her a sealed envelope. “My brother asked me to give this to you.”

  Livvy turned the envelope over. She wanted to rip it open and read the contents almost as much as she was terrified to.

  Eve’s gaze went past Livvy. “Mrs. Kane.”

  Envelope forgotten for a second, Livvy stiffened. Whatever issues she had with her mother, she was not about to let this Baby Chandler snap at her the way she had Livvy.

  Tani drew even with them. “Evangeline.” Her voice was caressing. “What a beautiful young woman you’ve grown up into. Your mother would be so proud.”

  Sharp sorrow and pleasure moved behind Eve’s eyes. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Livvy relaxed. Her thumb tucked under the folded flap of the envelope. Ever so slowly, she eased it open.

  There was a paper inside, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to pull it out. Too many eyes were on her. Tani, Maile, and Eve, and hell, probably the kids tasked with turning away poor shoppers who just wanted to pick up a cake or a rotisserie chicken.

  “Can I show you something inside?” Eve asked quietly. “I think it may help.”

  Grateful for the reprieve, Livvy nodded. Though Eve had spoken to her, Tani and Maile followed them in.

  The three of them halted inside the entrance. Tani was the first one to move, and she stepped closer to the framed photograph of John and Sam that Livvy had last seen in John’s home. “I thought this burned,” she whispered.

  “It did,” Eve replied. “That’s a reprint. Nicholas ordered it restored yesterday.”

  “Brendan must have shit a brick,” her mother said softly, and Livvy did a double take at the foul language.

  Eve’s laugh was quickly disguised as a cough. She cleared her throat. “My father wasn’t happy, but Nicholas was adamant.” She looked at Livvy. “This isn’t what I wanted to show you, though.”

  Tani was utterly still, staring up at her father’s young face. Maile placed an arm around her sister-in-law’s shoulder, and drew the smaller woman into her side. “Go on,” Maile told Livvy. “I’ll wait right here with your mother.”

  Livvy followed Eve into the store, tapping the envelope against her thigh. The place was cool and dark. “How much money are you losing, closing for the day?”

  “We were ordered to take the sign down and open after you arrived, so luckily, not too much, since you came early. Though Nicholas is still paying all the employees.”

  Livvy licked her lips. So, a lot.

  They wound through the deli and produce section, each step taking her back to her past, the sight of the floral section and the yellow roses there forcing her to avert her eyes. The store had essentially been rebuilt as a perfect replica of the C&O that had burned down. The tiles were the same, the fixtures upgraded, but familiar. Though she’d had no interest in the running of this business, she knew this store intimately.

  Eve stopped in front of the bakery and pointed to something behind the glass. It took Livvy a second to understand. When she read the sign perched in front of the desserts, she inhaled deeply.

  Olivia’s Cannoli, the tiny sign read.

  He’d teasingly brought her here when they were dating to show her the sign he’d had the bakers make. It wasn’t uncommon—John had a cookie in here with his name on it. Their families wouldn’t have noticed in corporate, or if they had, would have only rolled their eyes.

  It’s my favorite dessert, Nicholas had whispered.

  The envelope burned in her hand. She looked down and pulled out the sheet of paper inside. Coordinates, printed at the top, ones she recognized instantly.

  And underneath: All your nights. Everyone can know.

  Tears burned. That asshole. That beautiful asshole.

  When footsteps approached her, she swiped her hand over her eyes. It wouldn’t do to actively sob in front of Eve.

  The other woman held out a white bakery box. “For the two of you.”

  Livvy automatically accepted the box. “You’re really okay with this?” she demanded. “With him and me? Even knowing what a shit storm this is going to unleash?”

  “I am.”

  “It wasn’t so long ago you hated me.”

  “I didn’t hate you.”

  “You sounded like you did.”

  “I’m . . .” Eve looked down at her hands. “I was mad at you.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Not because of your father.” She glanced up, her face red. “I’m not proud of this. I was mad you left.”

  “You mean after the accident?”

  “Yes. You left. After that night, it was like everyone left, except Nicholas. And even he changed. I felt like I lost everyone. My mother, my father, my brother and . . . you. My sister.”

  “Oh, Eve.”

  Her dark eyes glinted. “I missed you until I got mad at you. I told you, I’m not proud of my behavior. I’m sorry.”

  Livvy bit her lip. “I’m sorry too. I should have . . .” What? Friended Eve on Facebook? Texted her? She’d had no idea if the girl would welcome or hate her.

  “No. There was nothing you could have done. Don’t feel bad.” Eve wrinkled her nose. “I’m a grown woman. I should be able to separate childish abandonment issues from reality. It was my fault, and it won’t happen again.”

  “I thought about you quite a bit over the years.” Out of necessity, she’d had to eventually stop wondering how Eve was. She hadn’t very well been able to ask N
icholas about Eve when she saw him annually. Googling her—which she’d done, a time or two—had resulted in more than a few public records but nothing of note.

  Another casualty to the feud.

  Eve nodded slowly. “That makes me feel really good.”

  Livvy tucked the card under the flap of the bakery box. “Even if you’re okay with us, I bet your father won’t be.”

  A faint smile played over Eve’s lips. “Just a guess, Livvy, but going by the small fortune my brother spent to hang a giant announcement outside and close this store, I don’t think Nicholas cares. And you don’t seem like the type to care either.”

  “He might—”

  “Look, I have no horse in this race.” Eve shrugged. “But Nicholas is tougher than you think. Tougher than he used to be.”

  But was Livvy tough enough to take a gamble on him?

  “Of course, the question is,” Eve remarked, “whether or not you believe that.”

  She trembled. She wanted to, so badly. She wanted to believe that this time, everything would work out. But that didn’t happen outside of fairy tales. Right?

  Chapter 22

  SITTING AROUND doing nothing wasn’t really Nicholas’s thing, but he was far too committed to this scheme now. If he had to hang out nearly naked in these woods for the whole day, he would, damn it. Even if that meant most of that time was spent battling every doubt under the sun.

  She wouldn’t show up.

  She’d show up and be pissed.

  She’d already left town.

  When he heard footsteps crunching over twigs and grass, he exhaled long and low and opened his eyes. She walked into the clearing, taking his breath away. “You look beautiful,” he said huskily, forgetting the speech he’d prepared.

  Livvy placed her hands on her hips. She wore the same clothes from yesterday, her hair was uncombed, and there wasn’t a trace of makeup on her face.

  Beautiful. As always.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Nico?”

  So beautiful.

  Aware he had a dopey smile on his face, he shrugged. “I wanted to get your attention.”

  “Well, you got it. What were you thinking?” She stomped over and dropped the box she carried in his lap.

  He opened the flaps, smiling when he saw the cannoli inside. “You saw the sign in the bakery?”

  “Yes.”

  “‘i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart).’ I read the poem. Pretty. You’re not the only one who’s been carrying someone’s heart with you. I may not have put you on my skin, but you’ve always been close at hand.” Pretending not to see the tremble of her lips, he reached inside and picked up a cannoli, taking a bite of the sweet, cream-filled dessert. He offered her the other one and she shook her head.

  He finished the whole thing in a greedy couple of gulps and dusted his hands off, putting the box aside. He’d feed the second one to her later. In his bed. “Thanks for coming.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be naked. Presumptuous, aren’t you?”

  He was, technically, not totally naked—he still wore his boxer briefs, but since he was covered by a quilt as a nod to the weather, she could be forgiven for thinking that. “I wanted to give you easy access.” He held out a Sharpie. “You still haven’t shown me what tattoo you’re gonna give me.”

  She stared at the Sharpie. “You’re kidding me.”

  “You want to talk to me? Give me a tattoo.” He was no fool. He liked having her touching him, but more importantly, drawing calmed her.

  With shaking hands, she accepted the permanent marker. She looked down at him, and then knelt next to him on the blanket he’d spread out under their tree. “Turn over.”

  Obligingly, he rolled over onto his stomach. “Is this going to be another nude?”

  “No. I know what I want to put on you.” The tip of the marker touched his shoulder. The sensation tickled, but he held still.

  He closed his eyes and pillowed his head on his arms. The fall air was chilly, but the sun was shining. Anyway, he couldn’t help but feel hot when Livvy had her hands on his body.

  “Honestly, what the hell were you thinking with that big display?”

  “The sign?”

  “Yes, the sign.”

  He gestured at the tree. “You made it sound like a joke when we were kids, how you wished I’d woo you. It wasn’t a joke. You thought a grand gesture of love was romantic. I wanted to give you one.”

  The marker paused. “Oh Nico.”

  “I see who you are, Livvy.”

  Her breathing came faster. “I don’t know—”

  “What was our agreement?”

  “Which one?”

  “The original one. All those years ago, when you sent me that first message.”

  “One night.” She swallowed, audibly. “No one will know.”

  “That agreement, you were right, it wasn’t healthy for us. And yet, there were some years of my life when that night with you was the highlight of twelve months.”

  She was silent above him. He was barely clothed, and every word stripped him down further. He welcomed the vulnerability. Like the pain of confronting his father, it felt productive. “When Eve was sick, I didn’t leave her side for a night, except for those ten hours with you. You gave me the strength to go back to the hospital and sleep on that couch in the pediatric ward for weeks.”

  “I did?”

  “You did.” He breathed deeply, releasing the protective mechanisms he’d carried all his life. “You’re not my secret anymore. My love for you is bigger than anyone who might try to tear us apart.” He paused. “I won’t leave you, Livvy. You don’t have to trust me completely right now, but watch me. Watch me fight for you this time.”

  A drop of wetness fell on his back. Since she was still drawing, he didn’t turn around, though he hated the thought of her weeping. “Your family—”

  “My father knows. He knew before I came to you yesterday. He’s the only one who would disapprove of us, and I am done living my life so it revolves around him. You’re my family. You always have been. I promise you won’t have to carry the emotional load this time.”

  She didn’t speak, but the marker lifted from his skin. “I’m done.”

  He tried to crane his neck around, but the drawing was out of his range of eyesight. “I can’t see. My phone’s over there. Can you take a picture?”

  She stretched over him to grab his phone from where it sat on his neatly folded clothes. “What’s your password?”

  His first instinct was to tell her he would enter it, but he swallowed the urge down. Quietly, he rattled the numbers off.

  The phone slipped out of her hands. “How long has that been your password?”

  “Always,” he admitted. He used different passwords or combinations for various other stuff, but the things that were personal—his phone, his home—they were all protected by some variation of Livvy’s birthday.

  “Jackson said it was your home security system code. I didn’t fully believe him.”

  “It was.” He’d changed it after Jackson had broken in, and resented the younger man every time he had to type in the new randomly generated code. “Now take a picture.”

  She picked up the phone, fumbling as she entered the numbers. “I probably don’t want to know why Jackson knows the code to your home, do I?”

  “Maybe not right now,” he conceded.

  Livvy snapped a picture of his back and avoided his eyes when she handed the phone to him. “It’s a sketch,” she said defensively, like he would judge her.

  It took him a second to understand what he was looking at. The drawing was rough, but even in the quick lines, he could see the beauty of the design. It was a compass, similar to the one on her back, though hers was dreamy and paint-splattered and colorful.

  A crown capped the N at the top of the north arrow. He used his fingers to zoom in on that crown. The outline of it consisted of precisely printed numbers. He had to tilt the phone to unde
rstand the significance. “It’s this place,” he said, with a sense of wonder. “The coordinates. You just came up with this on the fly? Like the mermaid or the fairy?”

  She concentrated on capping the marker like it was imperative that the thing not dry out. “No. I thought of it a few years ago.”

  He looked at her sharply. “It’s similar to yours.”

  IF SHE’D tattooed him for real, he’d see how closely it matched hers. Livvy wouldn’t do his in watercolor. It would be sharp neat lines. The intricacy of the compass, though, that would be the same. “I don’t have a crown.” She’d left it off, finding it far too painful to put the numbers designating their special place on her skin.

  “I love it. I want it done properly.”

  She snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “It’s not ridiculous for me to put some literal skin in this game.” He sat up, his abdomen muscles clenching and releasing. Not like she was noticing things like his muscles or his lovely smooth olive-toned skin or the trail of hair on his belly.

  She averted her eyes from the bulge at his lap under the blanket. Nope. Not noticing at all.

  “Come here,” he murmured, and she allowed herself to be tugged forward, because she wanted nothing more in the world than to keep touching him.

  He arranged her so she sat astride him. “What’s holding you back?”

  Fear and anxiety swirled inside her. “You know.”

  “You think I can’t love you because of the depression?”

  Her lips trembled. “It’s a chronic condition. I can manage it, and I’m in a good place now, but I can’t be cured.”

  “I wouldn’t try to cure you.”

  “You haven’t seen me during an episode. I kept those away from you before.”

  “I haven’t.” He hesitated, looking out into the distance. When he met her gaze again, she could read his resolve and pain. “There are things you don’t know about me, too.”

  “Like what?”

  “My . . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “My father is awful.”

  She made a face. “I know.”

  “No, you don’t. No one does.”

  “What do you mean?”