by Jean Oram
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“I would never have denied you our child.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for forgiveness, understanding. “I was setting up a way to give you full parental rights.”
“Ginger told me.” Olivia’s parents had been determined, but she’d apparently been trying to straddle the line between them disowning her and making sure Devon could raise their unborn child without her family’s interference. It couldn’t have been easy.
“I’m sorry I failed you, Devon. I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t fail, Olivia.” His voice was shaking. How could she blame herself for something beyond her control? And why couldn’t he have been more careful with condoms? It had been his love for her that had destroyed their relationship.
“But what if I—”
He shushed her. He knew what a haunted forest the “what if” trail led into.
“You did the best you could, Livvy. I understand that. Keeping the baby would have meant giving up everything. Your dreams, your family’s respect, your degree, your future. I would’ve only had to hire a nanny once I’d settled here in town and the baby came along. I respect that you were trying to look out for me in a tough time. I couldn’t see it then, only my own pain. I’m sorry if I made it harder for you.”
Olivia’s tears were streaming down her face and he gently dabbed them away.
“We should have been a family,” she whispered. “I should have trusted you. What if I caused it by pushing you away?”
It took Devon a second to realize what she was saying.
She was blaming herself for losing the baby.
Pain sliced through him like a sword. He held Olivia tighter, squeezing her against him as though he could wring out their sorrow. He’d once believed he’d had no more tears, no more sense of pain or loss.
He was wrong.
The healed wound reopened as though it had never closed. There was nothing he could say that could make her feel better because as irrational and wrongly placed her blame had been placed, he understood.
“And what if I caused it by being a jerk?” he asked, voice hoarse.
He didn’t know if he was the one shaking or if it was Olivia as they clung to each other, choked sounds coming deep from within them both.
She’d carried this for a decade. A decade.
And so had he.
But together…together they could forgive the past. Together they had the possibility of healing.
Devon had brought Olivia back to his house, and the two of them had slowly undressed each other in the late-afternoon sun, their pain so exposed, so raw. Tenderly they’d made love, becoming one once again as they let each other in, healing old wounds and each other with their bodies, with their shared grief.
Olivia had awoken in the middle of the night, still exhausted from letting go of old wounds, of releasing, of being cared for. Of being loved.
She hadn’t planned to stay after meeting Nicola’s babies, but then Devon had reached for her in the hospital hallway, becoming her rock in the emotional storm. And so she’d stayed, because the truth was she still loved him.
But she didn’t have a clue what she was going to do about it.
She snuggled against Devon, drifting off, waking to the sound of knocking at the door, the dogs barking.
“What’s going on?” Devon asked from deep in his pillow. He lifted his head, looking wiped.
She sat up, feeling lighter than she had in years. It was as though a load had been lifted. The pain was still there, but knowing she didn’t have to hide it, that she didn’t have to face the emotions alone any longer…that made it so much easier.
“What time is it?” Devon asked.
Olivia found his alarm clock on the floor and turned it to face her. “Nine-fifteen.”
It was already Wednesday and she had to be at Ginger’s store at ten to refit Jen’s wedding gown for the weekend wedding.
Devon was up in a flash, hauling on clothes, not bothering to shower. “I’m late for work and I have a feeling my boss won’t be happy after blowing off most of this week.”
Olivia watched with disappointment as his flesh disappeared under layers of clothing. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stretched. She had nothing on the docket for today other than the dress. Her eye caught the flash of her ring and she tried to school her smile. She’d slept with her fiancé. Scratch that, made love to her fiancé.
And it had been…amazing.
Life was good. It felt nice to be wanted and needed, to have someone who knew what she desired, then delivered it. It was even better than it had been all those years ago.
And last night, the way he’d brushed her tears away, and they’d been able to talk about their past like adults? She’d be lying to herself if she said that didn’t matter, that it didn’t make a difference.
This time felt different. It was different.
An illusion that could be punctured, perhaps, but in this moment, it felt like it would all be okay.
Except for whoever was banging at the door.
And there was something else, too. She was forgetting something.
Meet with the protesters at one! That’s what it was.
She stood with a gasp, facing Devon who was tucking in his shirt. “I missed my meeting with Muriel yesterday!”
The party and then the babies… Muriel was going to think she’d been blown off and that Olivia didn’t care about her or her concerns.
Devon bent to give her a quick kiss. “We’ll figure something out. I’m sure she’ll understand.” He hurried from the room to answer the door. Olivia tossed on clothes and followed, passing the guilt-inducing stack of engagement gifts waiting just inside the front entry.
Devon opened the door. It was Logan, checking in on them. “You two okay?”
“We overslept,” Olivia said sheepishly.
Logan took in their disheveled appearances, his brow lifting ever so slightly. “I guess my wife was right, you two were just busy.” He checked his phone, then tapped a piece in his ear, saying, “Confirmed, Zach. Motion and door sensors online and working.”
Olivia tried to hide a smile, but as soon as she glanced at Devon and found he was trying to bury his own, she broke into giggles. He planted a quick kiss on her forehead, then picked up his briefcase.
“Good luck with the dress and with Muriel.”
Devon hurried out the door to work, Logan trundling down the steps alongside him, speaking in manly-man protective terms as he went.
Olivia went and sat in the kitchen for a moment, thinking. The dogs had settled together on Copter’s bed, looking expectantly at her. She got up and fed them before starting a pot of coffee. She really needed to buy cream if she was going to be here any longer.
She sighed, a feeling of impending loss deflating her. So quickly, she’d gotten in so deep. Over her head with Devon.
She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay, be a part of his life, this town. Everything.
But today was the last day to work things out with the company’s PR issue or her father would be pulling the plug. She’d spent most of yesterday being with Devon, feeling all those old feelings, completely forgetting about her real life. That’s what it was like being around him. She forgot who she was, where the real world was even located.
Sucking up her courage, Olivia phoned and left a message with Muriel, relieved when she didn’t have to speak to the woman directly, even though it would have been better.
When Olivia was ready to head over to Ginger’s shop, Logan was at the end of the driveway, waiting. He opened the passenger side door of his car when she came down the front steps. “Today you ride with me.”
“Why? What happened?” Her thoughts went to her cleaned up car.
“I have a feeling.”
“About?”
He simply shook his head and gestured for her to climb in, while she wondered if today was going to expand
her bubble or burst it.
12
Olivia paused at the threshold of Ginger’s store, Veils and Vows. It felt as though within a few short days she’d stepped right back into the old dream life she’d once had. The one that had belly-flopped.
She reminded herself that it wasn’t quite like her college days. She didn’t have Devon, despite appearances, and she was just taking out a few stitches, tightening things up, not designing gowns.
But a small voice told her it could be like old times, only more.
Still hovering on the threshold, Olivia turned and looked out at the street behind her. It felt as though she was being watched. She spied Logan sitting in his car at the curb, waiting for her. She gave a small wave and stepped into Veils and Vows, inhaling the scent of new fabric. Most people probably didn’t even notice the subtle aroma, but to Olivia it felt like home.
She moved slowly, taking in the expansive room with its racks of snow-white gowns So much tulle, satin, silk, lace, and all the special, delicate fabrics that made her heart beat a little faster. For years she’d been squelching ideas and now they flooded her mind, one after another. She reached out, smoothing her hands over the white fabrics. Short gowns, long gowns. Ruffled, sleek. Simple, complicated.
And all along the outer walls were shelves with final touch accessories. Tiaras, jeweled hair clips, beads and gems. Garters, shoes, veils. Everything a bride might need.
Sugar and spice and everything nice.
Olivia inhaled again and smiled.
She was going to help Jen Kulak shine on one of the biggest days of her life, and let her chosen dress showcase the fact that the new mom had as many curves as the average mountain trail leading into Blueberry Springs.
The bride-to-be was already there, her son happily cooing to himself in a stroller in the spacious, adjoining room that served as a fitting area. It had a large stage with various raised platforms where brides could stand while having their dresses altered, a wall of mirrors in front of it. A few tall windows allowed natural light to flood the room, with comfy furniture in front for waiting guests, and small tables littered with bridal magazines and catalogs. Shelves near the fitting rooms held more accessories, more catalogs, more shoes, as well as alteration kits. The room was a haven and Olivia felt a skip in her step as she joined Jen and Ginger.
Jen went to change into her dress, an asymmetrical gown that bared one shoulder. Ginger handed Olivia a kit. Pins, scissors, stitch rippers, thread, measuring tape—it didn’t seem like much, but to Olivia it was like greeting an old friend.
This was going to be a lot of fun.
“Jen?” she called through the change room door. “Are you wearing your hair up or down?” Her straight blond hair with the purple streak was currently about shoulder length and would look good up, but Olivia worried it would look too plain.
“Up. Just a casual bun at the nape of my neck.”
Classic. Simple and elegant, but a smidge plain overall. Lacking the spunk that seemed to be characteristically Jen.
“Will you wear your nose ring?”
“Yes?”
“Good. Are you wearing a veil?”
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Mind if I grab one? I have an idea.” Specifically, a short, super fun veil that would help illustrate Jen’s individuality.
“Sure.”
Olivia strode into the main salesroom, her eye already on the prize. The delicate veil was only about a foot long, but would add a splash to Jen’s whole look. Perfect. Before she returned to the fitting area, she caught a glimpse of Peter Lunn watching through the storefront’s window. She waved uncertainly. He returned the wave with a smile, heading for the door.
This town and its characters, as much as she loved it all, was taking a bit of getting used to.
Peter walked right up to her, a glossy page from a magazine in his hands. He held it up so she could see it.
It was one of the more successful ad campaigns for Carrington Cosmetics, featuring her and Emma as models, happy and free. Olivia knew why the ads had worked—because her own sparkle had finally matched her sister’s. She’d just started dating Devon and had been secretly working on a minor in fashion design. At the time of the shoot she’d been happier than a debutante at an invitation only designer sale, and the camera had captured it.
Funny how after all these years she felt like that same woman again, only stronger.
Devon made the difference in her life.
Peter’s grin grew wider as he pointed to her picture, and Olivia laughed. “You recognized me?”
He nodded.
“Well, thank you. I don’t model for Carrington Cosmetics any longer, but my sister still does sometimes.”
And Carrington wouldn’t be there for any of them if she didn’t get ahold of Muriel and convince the protesters to focus on what truly mattered—the dam.
Peter thrust the image at her, and Olivia asked, “You want me to sign it?”
He nodded, and she found he had a pen at the ready. She signed the picture, her gaze lingering on her younger sister. Olivia hoped things turned out okay and that their new line would prevent illnesses in women across the continent and world.
She thanked Peter, and with a renewed sense of purpose headed to find her phone so she could call Muriel again. She wasn’t taking no for an answer.
She reached the woman on the eighth ring and apologized before Muriel could hang up. Olivia proposed a new meeting time for that afternoon, and the woman was oddly accommodating. So much so that it made Olivia wonder what was going on—something good, surely?
She texted Logan and Devon with the meeting information, then returned to the fitting area. Within half an hour she had Jen’s gown hugging her body and the bride in love with the spunky, short veil.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Jen said, tentatively hugging Olivia so pins holding her dress in place wouldn’t pierce them.
“As long as Rob isn’t too gobsmacked to say I do,” she teased.
Jen laughed and her son, Finn, banged his rattle.
“I’ll make the alterations today or tomorrow,” Olivia said, sending Jen to slip out of the garment.
“I told you sewing would be old hat,” Ginger declared, gloating as she did so. She was keeping Finn distracted, wiggling her fingers and giving him goofy smiles.
“I guess it’s like riding a bike—at least so far,” Olivia agreed.
“There’s our bride-to-be!” said a woman with dark hair streaked with white, joining them. It was Wanda, Ginger’s grandmother. She swept Olivia into a giant hug. “I haven’t seen you since before Harvard! Such a bright one you are. So tell me, how did Devon propose? Ginger, you need to take her picture and put it on your wall.” She waved a hand. “Well, when you get your bride wall started.”
Olivia felt a flicker of doubt as Wanda’s joy washed over her, along with assumptions that simply weren’t true.
“You are buying your dress here, of course,” Wanda confirmed.
“I’m sure she’ll design her own,” Ginger said.
“I don’t do that anymore.” But if she did, she was confident about its style.
“Well, we’ll see,” Ginger said with a knowing smile, before backtracking. “The wall is one of the million ideas I came up with at the business retreat where I met Logan. Oh, here’s Lily!” She went to greet a woman, pulling a rose-colored bridesmaid’s dress off a nearby Reserved rack in the process. Over her shoulder she called, “Olivia, since you’re here, do you have a moment to add a few pins for my seamstress, Ella May? She’s going to be so behind when she gets back.”
Olivia shrugged. She still had a few hours before meeting with Muriel, and plenty of time to stitch up Jen’s dress before her big day, as well as do some PR for Carrington and Devon.
Lily was pretty, a few years under thirty, and she had that resigned look about her that said always a bridesmaid, never a bride. She was also fast, tossing on the dress as quickly and effortlessly as if it wa
s her usual wardrobe and not the jeans and tee she’d been wearing.
Wanda came over to help with Lily as Jen joined everyone in the big room, setting her son up under a blanket to breast-feed.
“The dress is gorgeous on you,” Olivia said. The rose gown did wonderful things for the woman’s complexion. “I’m Olivia Carrington.”
“Lily Harper.”
“Are these the shoes you’re wearing?”
Lily nodded.
“She’s Devon’s fiancée,” Wanda interjected.
Lily half turned to take a better look at Olivia. “Devon’s sister and I were best friends before I moved away in high school.”
Her name felt familiar in that context. “Did you send him care packages when he was in college?”
Lily beamed and clapped her hands. “I’d totally forgotten about those! We used to bake at Mandy’s, and Ethan would try to sneak a few treats for himself.” Lily blushed, her eyes bright with happy memories. “Is he still around?”
Olivia nodded.
“I’m just finishing chef school, which has taken me ages and ages. I can’t wait until I’m a full chef and get to run my own place.” She rubbed her hands together as though plotting world domination.
“It sounds like Ethan wants to sell his restaurant,” Olivia offered.
“Really?”
Wanda nodded. “That’s what he keeps saying. That and his catering business, too.”
Olivia fiddled with the hem of Lily’s dress in the ensuing quiet as Ginger and Wanda fussed about, arranging shelves. Ginger was reorganizing things and it sounded as though her grandmother simply put items back where they used to go out of habit whenever she came to help out. The two were close, though, and Olivia had no worries about them sorting it out, but listening to them bicker was amusing.
“You and Devon have known each other a long time,” Lily stated.
“We’ve been out of touch for years.”
“Seeing him again—was it like old times? The crush and feelings…did they come back?” Lily was watching Olivia like she needed the answer for herself.
“Yeah,” she replied softly. “In some ways it’s like time didn’t even pass.”