She was gone.
He turned and began the walk home, aimless. He could go to work, sure. There was still lots to do. And technically, he was supposed to be working. But that didn’t seem important. Somehow his days had become structured around Olivia—when he would see her, what they would do, what she would say—and now that she was gone, he felt…free. In the most terrible way. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to be alone.
When the phone in his pocket rang, he fumbled for it frantically, almost falling off the curb. He yanked the phone loose, praying it was Olivia calling to say he was forgiven. That she’d come back. But it wasn’t her name on the display, it was Jonah’s. And even before he answered he knew what his brother would say. Olivia wasn’t the only person he had lost today.
The ensuing conversation was even more predictable: No, Jarek wouldn’t come home early. No, he wouldn’t be there for the funeral. Yes, he would chip in for the costs. Yes, he was a terrible son and brother and human being. No, he didn’t care. Yes, he did.
He wiled away the next two weeks with slightly less fervor. Jonah told Brant about Aidan’s passing and the three friends he hadn’t really wanted kept him company when he wasn’t working or sleeping. They didn’t ask about Olivia, though Dale had no doubt relayed the whole miserable saga. Ritchie tentatively revealed that he planned to stay in Lazhou past the project deadline, just to see where things with Honor might go, and Jarek tried not to be jealous, another emotion he had never really known before coming to this godforsaken place. He was feeling a lot of things now, when he’d rather feel nothing, but that no longer seemed like an option.
They’d been back in Virginia for a week. Reverse culture shock and jet lag had worn off, and yet, for some reason, Dale lingered. Jarek, Brant, Jonah, and Dale sat in a booth in the corner of a local pub, eating a late lunch that consisted entirely of deep fried food and alcohol. Jarek thought he had given up the habit of asking questions that were none of his business, but the longer Dale’s story about his daughter’s piano recital wore on, the less he could take it. “Dude,” he interrupted. “Why are you still here?”
Dale broke off and stared at him blankly. “I’m waiting on my refill.”
“In Virginia. Why aren’t you in South Carolina with your family?” The atmosphere at the table shifted, turning at once from relaxed and carefree to vaguely uncomfortable. It was one of the few occasions where Jarek was the one without answers, but even before Dale spoke, he knew.
“She kicked me out, man.” His beefy, crude friend used a French fry to draw a circle in the ketchup on his plate. “Last year.”
Jarek sighed. “Fuck. Sorry.”
“You didn’t know.”
No, he hadn’t known. If he’d spent a single second thinking about it, he might have come to the same conclusion. The way Dale spoke so reverently about his kids, the picture of his family that had prime placement in his wallet. The lewd stories about the mysterious women he banged in China, none of whom Jarek had ever actually seen, all just overcompensation for his own broken heart. The old Jarek would have kicked himself for not recognizing it sooner, but now he just felt…bad. He felt bad for his friend. And then he felt even worse when he realized he’d just admitted that Dale, of all people, was his friend. How had this happened?
“Is that why you’re always prying into my life?”
Dale shrugged. “Maybe.”
He eyeballed Brant. “What’s your excuse?”
“Dale made me?”
“Ass.” Dale jammed an elbow into his friend’s gut, and though Brant was a big guy, he winced. Jarek was grateful he’d taken the seat next to his brother.
“Is this topic on the table then?” Jonah asked, sensing a moment of weakness. “Olivia?”
“No,” Jarek interrupted, at the same moment Brant and Dale said, “Yes,” much louder. “No,” he repeated.
“Are you going to call her?” Dale inquired, ignoring his refusal.
Jarek gritted his teeth. “I don’t have her number.”
Brant scratched his jaw. “I do.”
“What? Why would you have it?”
“She gave it to Ritchie, and he gave it to me. Just in case.”
“In case what?”
“In case I decided to call her,” Brant drawled, rolling his eyes. “In case you ever pulled your head out of your ass, idiot.”
Jarek tried to take an extremely long time finishing his beer, but the other men just waited. They may be the only friends he had, but he didn’t like them. “She hates me,” he said finally.
“Yeah,” Dale said.
Brant nodded.
“You should call her,” Jonah suggested.
Jarek twisted in the booth to look at him. “Did you not hear what I just said?”
His brother couldn’t have cared less. “No one said it was easy, man.”
“What would you know? You’ve been married your whole life.”
“That’s exactly why I know, moron. You think I let Katrine walk away every time she gets mad? Or that she lets me?”
“You two don’t fight.”
“Everybody fights.”
Jarek stared between the men at the table. They all nodded sagely. He wasn’t overreacting to this. He wasn’t. He’d done a terrible thing. She’d left him. Sure, she’d always been scheduled to leave on that day, but the timing wasn’t a coincidence. Except, now that he thought about it…She hadn’t looked at him with hate at the train station. There’d been something else in her eyes, too. Not love. Not sadness. But maybe…pity. Something he could work toward fixing.
He ran a hand through his too-long hair and blew out a breath. “What do I do?”
Brant slid a scrap of paper across the table, ten digits written in remarkably neat handwriting. “Call her,” he said.
It wasn’t easy to overcome a lifetime of avoidance. Though he had her number safely stowed in his wallet, it took Jarek four weeks to pick up the phone.
The week after the conversation in the bar, Jonah had convinced him to go to the cemetery where Aidan’s ashes were buried, and Jarek had reluctantly agreed, if only to appease his brother. He stood looking down at the tiny, flat plaque in the grass, the predictable names and dates carved in block letters. He wasn’t entirely sure what Jonah had wanted him to feel, but he was pretty sure he was supposed to feel something. Instead he felt nothing. None of the anger that had consumed him when he thought of his father. None of the resentment. Somehow that angry void in his life had filled itself up with friends he hadn’t wanted, and a girlfriend he wasn’t looking for. A hobby that had turned into genuine passion, and a brother who didn’t give up on him, no matter how tempting he made it. He wasn’t his father. He wasn’t the result of an aptitude test. His faults were his own, but so were whatever positive qualities he happened to possess. The ones Olivia had seen.
Now he sat on the edge of his bed in the room above Jonah’s garage. The bed was draped in a unicorn-patterned comforter, a hand-me-down from his nieces, and the small window was covered with pink blinds. Katrine’s collection of mystery novels—including every Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys book ever written—gathered dust on a shelf lined with paper flowers. He had never stayed in Virginia long enough to warrant getting his own place, but he knew he couldn’t stay here much longer. Jonah had failed to mention he’d joined a band and kept his drum kit in the garage, practicing daily. Katrine was lovely and gracious, but it was hard to look at her without feeling envious. Oh, there had been plenty of times in his life when he’d wished there was a woman around, but he’d never imagined them staying long term. And now he thought about nothing else.
There was a pounding on the door and he jumped. “Did you call yet?” Dale shouted through the wood.
Jarek took a deep breath. The three of them were on the other side, ears undoubtedly pressed to the door, trying to eavesdrop. They’d pleaded with him to let them be in the room while he made the call, but he’d flatly refused. He’d even lied and told them
he’d already done it, but they hadn’t believed him. Then he said he was going to do it tomorrow, and they’d looked him over doubtfully and declared him a liar, which he was. He was sick with nerves and had to get this over with. He felt like a fourteen-year-old boy calling the most popular girl in school and asking her on a date. Which, with the exception of their ages, summed things up pretty accurately.
His fingers were cold as he punched in the numbers, praying they were wrong. Or that the phone would ring and ring and she’d never pick up. And she didn’t have voice mail.
“Hello?”
The phone slipped from his hand and bounced on the mattress, landing on a mane of rainbow-colored hair. He cursed under his breath and snatched it up.
“Hello?” she said again. The sound of her voice coursed through him, making his heart pound. The last time he heard it she had been saying good-bye.
“Olivia?” he managed. Now that she’d answered, he didn’t want her to hang up. He also didn’t want to be one of those creepy mouth breathers that called single women when they were home alone. At least he hoped she was alone.
The pause extended so long he thought she might have hung up. Or fainted. But then came a startled, “Jarek?”
“Yeah. Hi.”
A shorter pause. “Hi.”
His muscles turned to liquid and he lay down on the bed. He’d been in some truly terrifying situations over the course of his life. He could count on both hands the number of times he thought he wouldn’t make it out of some scenario alive. But he couldn’t remember ever being this scared. “How are you?” he forced himself to inquire.
“I’m…good,” she answered. Purposely avoiding the F-word. “How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Um…where are you?”
“Virginia. My brother’s place.”
“Oh.”
Was he crazy, or was there a note of disappointment in her voice? Like maybe she was hoping he’d say he was standing on her front lawn with a thousand roses, the way Brant had suggested?
“How are you settling in?” he asked eventually.
“Good,” she said. “It’s nice here. Summer school keeps me busy.”
“Right. Of course.”
“What are you up to?”
“Not much. Avoiding Dale, mostly.”
A thump on the door. “Hey!”
Olivia laughed, hearing the indignant cry. “Still unsuccessful.”
Jarek smiled. The muscles around his mouth hurt, as though he hadn’t used them in forever. “Yeah.” He couldn’t get a read on her. Couldn’t tell if she was happy to hear from him or completely indifferent.
“Well,” she said, when the silence stretched on. “I should probably go.”
“What are you doing on Saturday?” he blurted out.
More silence. “Saturday?”
“Yeah. This Saturday. Do you want to go on a picnic?” The picnic had been Jonah’s idea. Katrine had seconded it, and since she willingly chose life with a McLean brother, he’d gone with it, even if it sounded fucking stupid when he said it out loud.
“A picnic.” She sounded baffled. “Where?”
Oh God. Of course she would ask that. They were five hundred miles apart, for Christ’s sake. “I’ll come to you,” he said. “On Saturday.”
She was going to say no. Who went on picnics anymore? She probably had a million better things to do. But she surprised him again when she asked, “What time?”
Relief had him sagging into the mattress. “One o’clock.” The guys had told him what to say, but he’d forgotten everything but the most basic details. Picnic. Saturday. One.
“Okay,” she said.
Chapter Eighteen
OLIVIA DISCONNECTED and stared at the phone in her hand as though it had magically materialized there. Had that just happened? Had Jarek McLean really just called and asked her on a date? And had she accepted?
She slumped into one of the mismatched chairs at her kitchen table and looked around the room, trying to decide if she was dreaming. Her tiny rented house looked normal. Tidy, cozy, a hodgepodge of furniture and finds she’d scoured from summer yard sales and secondhand stores.
She was starting over. Again. Exchanging one life for another, hoping for something better. Unlike the breakup with Chris, she hadn’t kept her phone close by, hoping Jarek would call. He didn’t have her new number, and even though he’d had the old one, he’d never used it. So it had come as the shock of her life when she picked up the phone ten minutes ago and heard his voice.
This time it was different. She’d been so alone when she met Jarek in Lazhou, desperate for company. But there was a difference, she knew now, between being lonely and being alone. When she saw him, it would be because she wanted to, not because he was better than the alternative. She had changed. She was stronger, less naïve. She had chosen not to carry the weight of her resentment with her, and she had forgiven Chris, and her parents, and even Dale.
It was too easy to cling to hurt feelings and bitter grudges, to let insecurity fester. Every day she urged her kids to be brave, to raise their hands and try again. She taught them not to hide from their mistakes but to grow from them, and now she would follow her own advice. On Saturday she would meet Jarek with no expectations. If she had learned anything over the past year and a half, it was that life wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t impossible, either. It was a work in progress, and she was ready.
It was nowhere near as easy as the movies made it look, Jarek thought, shuffling up her short driveway three days later. He had the ridiculous-looking picnic basket in one hand and flowers in the other. He’d watched those corny romantic comedies with her, scoffing at Richard Gere climbing the fire escape to woo Julia Roberts, and Colin Firth running through the streets of Portugal with his poorly translated speech, but he hadn’t given them nearly enough credit. This shit was hard.
He stepped onto the front porch and set down the basket to ring the bell, wiping damp hands on his shorts. Jonah had tried to convince him to wear a suit and tie to show Olivia he was serious, but Katrine had intervened and told him to wear whatever he wanted. He wouldn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t; if Olivia still loved him, it would be for who he was.
The door opened, and there she stood, three feet away and utterly perfect. He couldn’t speak as he took her in, couldn’t believe he’d lasted six weeks without her. And he thanked God he hadn’t worn a fucking suit, as Jonah had suggested. She wore white shorts and a green tank top, her blond hair hanging loose and straight down her back. Her feet were bare and she wore no makeup or jewelry. She wasn’t pretending either, but then again, she never had.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
He thrust the flowers at her. “These are for you.”
She stared at the small bouquet, bemused. “Thank you.” She took them from his iron grip, her fingers brushing his. “Come in. I’ll put them in water.”
He stepped into the doorway but went no farther, watching her mile-long legs stride down a short hall and round the corner. After a second he heard water running, then she returned empty-handed.
“This is it,” she said, gesturing to the small living room. It was filled with poorly made furniture that made his fingers twitch. “Do you want a tour?”
Oh, yes, he wanted a tour. He wanted to come inside and lock the door and never come out again. But he couldn’t do that; his friends had made him promise. No matter his desperate urges, this was a first date, and he had to keep his hands to himself. Be a gentleman, whatever the hell that meant.
“Another time,” he said, without thinking. The surprised look on her face made him hear the words for what they were, the admitted hope that there would, in fact, be another time.
She stepped into a pair of Birkenstocks and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Are you ready to go? Should I bring anything?”
“No, I’ve got it.” Actually, he wasn’t sure what he had, because Brant and Dale and Katrine had gone sh
opping for this excursion, not trusting him not to screw it up. And he’d let them, because he didn’t know what the hell people brought on picnics, because he’d never been on one. His assignment had been to look up Olivia’s address online and find a nearby park. Now they strode down the street side-by-side, not touching. The sun was bright, but a light breeze kept it from being unpleasantly hot.
“Do you know where you’re going?” she asked after a block.
“Yeah. There’s a place up ahead on the right. Charleston Park. Do you know it?”
“I know it.”
Another couple blocks.
“Did you get the job finished?” she inquired. “The travel office?”
“Oh. Yeah. They were happy with it. Glad to be done.”
“That’s good.”
They reached the edge of the park and climbed the grassy hill, passing a small playground and several people laid out on towels, reading or sunbathing. Jarek chose a private spot under a tall oak tree, the leafy branches providing much-needed shade, and set down the basket, flexing his fingers. He prayed for mercy as he pulled back the lid, finding a blanket folded on top and spreading it on the grass.
Olivia sat down and he sat beside her, catching a whiff of apples when she pulled her hair over the opposite shoulder to keep it out of her face. “I have no idea what’s in here,” Jarek admitted, tugging cloth napkins from the basket. “I didn’t pack it.”
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