She was where she belonged for that moment. And moved with a ferociousness to prove it.
They came almost immediately, one right after the other. Her first, and then, her pulsing around him setting him off.
When they were done, she started to move, slowly, not at all eager to move on to the next phase of whatever future awaited her.
“Oh, no,” Martin said, holding her in place. “You said it had to blow us away.” He was totally serious, his voice gravelly. “And while that was better than average, it’s nowhere near what we can do,” he continued, moving inside her again. “I want the night, Liv. All of it. Can you give that to me?”
She’d always struggled to deny him anything he asked. That night she didn’t even have to try. “I want the night, too,” she told him. “Show me your stuff, sir.”
The nickname slipped out. One she’d hit him with the first night he asked her out. He’d been far more concerned about their age difference than she had, and she’d teased him with the moniker.
She hadn’t called him that in years.
Afraid that she’d offended, she bent to kiss him and saw a glisten of emotion clouding his eyes. “Only you have a way of calling me that that turns me on,” he told her, flipping them over, ridding them both of their pants and changing his condom for a new one as he did so.
Naked on top of her he moved his penis inside her slowly, kissing her, running his hands through her hair. She opened her eyes to see the awe in his as he watched her.
And once again, she was lost.
* * *
He couldn’t hold on to her. Martin knew that. Olivia was too vibrant. Too vital. She had too much to do with her life to be trapped in his world of fundraising and parties and business deals. He was dedicated to doing good work with his fortune, but he needed to enjoy the world, too. She needed to save it first. He kept going by getting the most out of every day of his life. Enjoying every day. She kept going by working her way through every day. Whether she was at work or not. Always thinking of others, serving others. Her focus on helping others to the exclusion of having fun or doing for herself seemed to be the way she prevented herself from being consumed by the pain.
Survival for him meant finding the joy so he didn’t get pulled under by the losses. She seemed to find the strength to keep going by paying penance every single day for something that hadn’t been her fault.
After incredible lovemaking Thanksgiving night, his ex-wife had once again left his bed in the early hours of the morning, refusing to share even a cup of coffee with him—giving new meaning to the term Black Friday.
They’d texted as he’d traveled over the couple of weeks that had followed. Innocuous messages that left him needing more.
At least that was what he told himself as the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas passed. As usual he kept busy, more so with the holidays upon them. While some of his business meetings slowed down, the social invitations tripled and he had days where he was going from the moment he rose at dawn until he fell into bed after midnight, exhausted enough to sleep.
At least for a few hours. And when he awoke and lay there alone with thoughts of Olivia and the baby creeping in, he’d get up and get going. At work in his home office. For a walk on the beach. Or he’d just head into Fishnet headquarters. He’d lived enough years to know how to deal with life.
Or he’d missed the boat and wasn’t ever going to get it.
He wasn’t always sure which.
More and more he was warming up to the idea of him and Olivia continuing on as they had been since their divorce, which mostly worked for them over the past nine years, and giving up on his idea of a life partner. He could very likely have a child to consider in a few months and there was no way he could turn his back on that. Which meant he couldn’t cut Olivia out of his life.
And it was pretty clear neither of them was going to be able to trust that one or the other would be strong enough to keep their hands off each other in perpetuity.
After Thanksgiving night, and the way it stayed with him, he was beginning to suspect that, baby or not, he’d never get Olivia out of his system. Which meant that he had to give up on the goal of finding his life partner. He certainly wasn’t going to ask a potential wife to share her rightful place with another woman.
Nor did he want to share the coming baby with another woman. Only he and Olivia knew what that child meant to them. Only the two of them shared the pain of having lost Lily together.
He’d learned as a kid that you didn’t always get what you wanted. Just as he’d learned to lead with his heart, always look for the good and to work hard for whatever it was he wanted.
His parents had taught him how to love unconditionally, and how to do without material things. They just hadn’t shown him how to give up.
Olivia hadn’t said where she was at with any of it. As usual, she wasn’t saying much of anything. He knew she was in touch with Beth regularly, though he didn’t know if that meant daily, weekly or some other time frame. And he knew that Beth was still pregnant.
As Christmas approached, they were closing in on two of the three critical months. Getting closer to the chance that there was really going to be a baby born as a combination of his and Olivia’s genetic pools. A sister or brother to Lily. He had no idea how he felt about that. Fiercely protective. Needing everything to be okay. And not wanting anything to change. How could Lily have a brother or sister when she couldn’t meet him or her? And what about the sibling born after Lily’s death never knowing Lily?
The Applegates had invited them for Christmas dinner. Sylvia had also been included in the invitation but had again declined, opting to spend the latter part of the day with her same friend who’d recently lost a spouse. She and Olivia would be spending Christmas Eve and Christmas morning together. They hadn’t invited him.
Not that he’d expected them to do so. He’d expected to be in Italy for the holiday, in Rome for Christmas Eve service, and then with friends on a yacht in the Mediterranean. Old techie buddies who, collectively, donated more than half a million dollars a year to Fishnet. And whose party grew exponentially if they could say he was a guest.
But with the ultrasound scheduled for the morning of December 24, one day shy of two months from conception, there was no way he could leave the country. If there was anything at all of concern in that film, he had to be available to Olivia. Available for his child.
And no way he was sending her to the Applegates’ alone, either. She’d be fine, he was sure. It was him who couldn’t bear to think of her feeling in any way like an outsider, the only one present who was not an immediate member of the close-knit family, on Christmas Day.
Because he was always traveling he hadn’t decorated for the holiday in years—not since he and Olivia had split—but came home a few days before Christmas to find Tammy, his housekeeper, and Barbara, his administrative assistant, collaborating together to put holiday cheer in his large, luxurious and suddenly lonely-feeling condo.
The curious loneliness was only because he’d had to cancel all of his holiday plans. He got that. Still, it was nice to have some festivity around. Warmed the place up a bit.
And because he was in town, he waited until two days before Christmas to do his own shopping. He only bought for Barbara and Tammy and their families. Barbara did the rest of any gift buying for him. And to him shopping meant going to the upscale store he frequented once a year, picking out items and paying to have them gift wrapped and delivered. Still it was nice to do so while the world around him was bustling with cheer and last-minute chaotic energy. He was usually ensconced in massive holiday plans by that point of the year. Not out in the middle of the frenzy.
He and Olivia hadn’t exchanged gifts—by mutual decision—since the year they’d divorced. This year would be no different.
He was just on his way out of the store when he passed by a j
ewelry display. Set up on a backdrop of black velvet was an exquisite eighteen-karat-gold flat heart. Flowing out of the right side of the top of the heart was a Madonna figure curved around the left side with a smaller, flowing baby. It stopped him in his tracks. The piece was delicate. And, as he stood there, it seemed to exude strength beyond his understanding. And something more. It was so fragile, and yet...unbreakable, too.
He had to have it. There was no internal discussion, no monologue, dialogue or even thought that went into the decision. He stepped up to the counter, and when a saleswoman immediately approached, he asked no questions, didn’t even ask to touch the piece, before putting his card down on the glass.
He didn’t request gift wrapping or delivery, either.
Two short minutes later, with the velvet box a small bulge in the front pocket of his pants, he walked out of the store.
* * *
Sylvia had urged that they do Christmas at Olivia’s condo that year again. Olivia didn’t argue but felt bad that her mom didn’t get to have her home filled with the holiday cheer. On Wednesday evening, two days before Christmas, and the day before Beth’s first ultrasound, they were busy unpacking decorations and putting them on the tree Olivia had purchased and brought home that afternoon. She always waited until the last days the trees were on the lot, telling herself that she was giving days of love to one that would have ended up in a chipper instead of spreading holiday cheer. Instead, she usually ended up with a tree that dropped needles everywhere just getting it into the condo.
That evening was no different and Sylvia, who’d definitely grown used to her routine, already had the vacuum out and running while Olivia got the bins of ornaments out from Christmas storage underneath the stairwell.
As was tradition, they’d both dressed in jeans and Christmas sweaters. And Sylvia’s Crock-Pot of homemade grape jelly meatballs was already plugged in in the kitchen. The cheese and crackers and veggies they’d eat with it were prepared on trays.
Her mother had told her the first year they’d celebrated Christmas together, the first year she’d been divorced, that she wanted for them to have their own family traditions, separate and apart from what either of them had known being raised by Olivia’s grandmother. Would there be brand-new traditions the next time they celebrated Christmas? Ones to enjoy with a new baby who’d just be learning to crawl?
She could let herself get a brief glimpse, and then her mind shut off. It was too soon to let herself fall too far in.
And so it was. Christmas carols played loudly over the sound system, scents of dinner cooking filled the air and there was a bowl of individually wrapped holiday chocolates on the coffee table.
It felt like home. Like tradition. And yet, for the first time in several years, Olivia didn’t feel complete.
Because of the appointment looming the next morning. She knew her unease stemmed from the unknown, from what they might or might not find in Beth’s stomach.
If a Christmas miracle existed for her, there’d be a heartbeat. It was all she could think about. “Alexa, please play Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Heartbeat Song.’
“What time do you want me to pick you up in the morning for the appointment?” she asked Sylvia when her mother pushed the vacuum to the corner and took a lid off the bin of lights they’d string on the tree. The lights were always first, and they did them together, one on each side of the tree, passing them back and forth.
“Is Martin going to be there?”
Her mother hadn’t asked up to that point. She hadn’t said. Had hoped it wasn’t going to come up.
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going to go ahead into work. The holidays are such a stressful time to so many and the smallest thing can trigger an episode,” she said, handing Olivia the end of the first string of lights. Sylvia typically worked long hours over the holidays. Her clients with PTSD did tend to have more issues over the holidays. Olivia had to work on Christmas Day sometimes; it all came with the profession.
But...
Starting the lights at the top, she reached up and secured the end, wrapped it as far as she easily could from her position and passed the strand. “You were planning to come until I said Martin was going to be there.”
Sylvia wound and passed back. “I was hoping he was coming and was planning to cancel tomorrow morning’s second appointment to go with you if he wasn’t driving down.”
The explanation was feasible, and Olivia was done skirting the issue. There were just too many of them piling up on her. She wrapped. Waited. Wrapped again. And when it was time to plug the second strand into the first, she held it instead, looking at her mother.
“You think I’m wrong to include him,” she said. “You think I’m getting into something that can only hurt all of us at some point. That I’m digressing...”
The stunned look on Sylvia’s face stopped her tirade. “I don’t think any of that,” she said, her shoulder-length dark hair bobbing with every word.
“It’s obvious you don’t want to be around him,” she persisted. “Which means you disapprove.”
“Olivia—”
The placating tone had her interrupting. “You never liked me with him, and you were proven right. I get it. But he’s the baby’s father, whether we would choose the situation or not.”
She said “we.” As though she wouldn’t choose for her baby’s father to be Martin. And Olivia felt immediately horrible. As though she was going to be cursed.
Truth was, she couldn’t imagine any other man she’d ever want to father her child. Martin was the most decent, kind and giving man she’d ever met. The smartest. Most responsible. And sexiest, too, not that she was going to share that last with her mother.
With only sixteen years’ age difference between her and Sylvia, and both having been raised by the same woman, they were sometimes as much sisters or friends as mother and daughter, but still...
“I told you before... I was wrong in some of my assumptions where he was concerned,” Sylvia said slowly, reaching for the lights and plugging the end into the strand already on the tree. She wrapped and handed the strand to Olivia. “I admire the heck out of what he’s done with his life,” Sylvia continued, her voice slightly muffled by the tree between them. “And I can’t help but be aware of how he’s remained a part of your life for the nine years since your divorce.”
Sylvia knew they’d been in touch. She had no idea they’d been having occasional sex for every one of those nine years. Olivia wound and passed.
“I also can’t help being aware that I might have screwed up nine years ago.”
Olivia took the strand again and stepped to the right until she could look at her mother. “What do you mean?”
Taking the lights from Olivia’s hand, Sylvia finished wrapping the tree. Plugged the bottom cord into the cord that they’d bought years before that plugged into the wall and provided a step on-and-off button. She stepped and the tree came to life with beautiful, sparkling color.
“Come, sit,” she said, with such authority Olivia felt as though her mother had just told her what to do.
And because she’d spent so much of her life wanting just that—her own mother to be around, teaching her what to do, what to say, how to handle situations—she did as she was told. For so long, she’d been handling life alone, refusing to let herself need anyone to complete her like she’d needed Martin and Lily. Truth was, human beings weren’t meant to be completely alone.
They were meant to coexist. To make their own choices, keeping others needs in mind. To be kind and aware.
And at that moment, she was aware that she was very likely going to be a mother.
And needed her own mother, too.
Chapter Sixteen
“You know all I’ve ever wanted is to be a good mother to you,” Sylvia said, her gaze dead serious as she sat beside Olivia on the couch.
Olivia nodded, not at all sure where the conversation was going. Not comfortable, at all, either. She and Sylvia, they shied away from talking about some things. Like the way Olivia had grown up well loved but feeling abandoned at the same time.
“I know that you’ve always thought my choice to leave you with your grandmother, and finish high school living with my friend’s family, and only seeing my mom when you didn’t know I was around, was selfish on my part. I kind of got off scot-free, right? I made a mistake, got pregnant, had the child and then went on with my life, leaving all the responsibility, the accountability, behind.”
Olivia didn’t say a word. Sylvia was expressing things Olivia had told her years before. She couldn’t very well deny their truth.
“I thought when Lily was born, you’d understand more,” Sylvia said. “The unconditional love a parent feels for a child sometimes means you have to sacrifice your own heart and soul for that of your child. I was sixteen when you were born, Liv. A young, naive, vulnerable teen who’d thought I was loved and adored but had been taken advantage of. My mom, she was the best. She never blamed me or pointed fingers. She helped me find my strength in it all. To learn from it all and make more of my life because of it.
“But I wanted only what was best for you. From the second you were born. It killed me, almost literally, to walk away. Not to hold you, smell your sweet skin, hear your laughter and watch you grow...but it was the best thing for you. Having me around, confusing the issue as to who your parent was, who you should mind, who you should run to when you were hurting or scared...having me around and then leaving for college...or having me skip college and have no career with which to support you... In any case, it wasn’t really left up to me. The only way Mom would take you was if I signed over guardianship and stayed out of your life.”
She’d heard it all before, of course. The week she’d turned eighteen and her grandmother had decided it was time the two met.
They’d met two more times after that, at her grandmother’s insistence, and then the week her grandmother died, her mother had pushed for more and, grieving, Olivia had opened her heart a bit more.
Her Christmas Future Page 15