by C J Marie
“You didn’t though,” Olive whispered, pulling him to a stop, and wrapping her arms around his waist.
Rafe shook his head. “I’m no hero, Ollie. I was scared your daddy would blame us, that’s why I climbed after you.”
She scoffed. “Just take the hero title. It wasn’t just fear of daddy that had you climbing up to get me down. Admit it—you liked me even back then.”
Rafe laughed and kissed her forehead. “Maybe a little. I didn’t think you’d panic at the finish line and shove me off the last branch.”
Olive huffed. “I thought I was falling, and I reached for you—I didn’t shove you.”
“Your daddy brought me the biggest milkshake that night though. I told mama I wanted to get more stitches if Mr. Cutler brought ice cream.”
Olive smiled at the memory and leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked toward the front door once more. “I got sent to bed without dinner that night, so feel honored. I remember daddy lecturing me about putting you in a position where you got hurt. I was supposed to do something nice for you as an apology. I’m not sure I ever did.”
Rafe retracted his hand from the doorknob, smiled, and cupped her face. “I’d say you’ve made up for it by now, Ol.”
She kissed him in the purest sense. It was simple, but Olive hoped it conveyed how desperately he’d captured her heart and soul. “I’m glad, but I rather enjoy making it up, so we’ll say the debt is open still.”
Rafe didn’t respond before the front doors flung open and a young woman with her arms filled with mixing bowls shoved past. Olive sighed, of course the event would be catered. Offering an apprehensive glance at Rafe, she sighed. “I suppose we should go to our fake shower.”
He smiled, Olive thought it was slightly sad, and together they stepped into the house.
***
All morning his mom had given him odd expressions. As she’d sipped coffee she’d even asked, “Anything I should know?”
What was that supposed to mean? Rafe hadn’t known then, and he didn’t know now, but it started the day off on an awkward foot. Olive’s uneasiness made the tightness in his chest even worse. The bridal shower was the largest party out of the five events. It was the last time Rafe would be viewed as an equal to some in the room. What infuriated him was his own stitch of insecurity that tried to portray Olive as showing nerves because the charade would end and he’d go back to being a mechanic with ten dollars to his name. Thoughts like that were a discredit to Olive—she loved him. Rafe took a deep breath and wiped his mind clear of those thoughts right quick.
He took a drink of the water in his hand, standing in the center of the living room with Olive at his side. It was a relief to have Zac there again. He was talking with Dot and Jace. His long-lost cousin was hitting if off well with the others. She even had Zac flirting shamelessly, but to Jace’s credit she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders and wasn’t falling for a word.
Rafe wished August were there. His twin had always handled crowds and people better. Next week they’d be home. It was the next thing to look forward to since it had been six months since August and Lily had been back. Now, they had little Brin in tow.
Rafe drew in a breath. Only a few more hours and they’d be free from the lie. Of course, and he smiled at the thought, it didn’t need to be a lie. He didn’t suspect Olive would turn him down if he got down on one knee, but the timing didn’t feel right to ask her yet. Until he remembered the first day of kindergarten.
“Ollie,” he whispered as they huddled in the crowd. She glanced at him, her eyes would always take his breath away. “I just remembered we’re really engaged, so technically we haven’t been lying.”
Her slender nose crinkled. “What are you talking about?”
“Remember when you chased me and August to the bus stop when we went to school for the first time?”
Glancing at the ground, she shook her head. “Barely. I was so little. I remember crying since I couldn’t go with you.”
Rafe smiled, trying to hold in a laugh. “You were screaming that we couldn’t go, we needed to stay and play. I was a pretending to be a big kid and told you to stop your bawling because I was going to marry you, anyway. We’d be together. Of course, I’m pretty sure I thought getting married meant playing after school. Still, I proposed in a very unromantic way—so we’re engaged.”
Olive choked through a laugh in her glass, her eyes shining when she looked at him. “Well, what do you know? Rafe, I have a confession, I’m afraid we’ve both been unfaithful many times.”
“I’ll forgive you this once,” he said.
“Oh,” she muttered, her breath against his neck sending his senses into a spin. “And I think we’ll need a redo on the proposal. For good measure, I expect something much more romantic than telling me to stop crying and buck up.”
He kissed the side of her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
There were plenty of hands to shake and faces to meet throughout the afternoon. Bernadette hadn’t spared décor or expense. The room was lavish before, but now fine paintings lined the walls that hadn’t before. Tables towering in cakes, relishes, tea, and fruit platters. It seemed that the room kept expanding no matter how many people filled the space.
“Mr. Whitney?”
His eyes darted toward the wiry man swirling a glass of sweet tea. Olive chuckled.
“Forgive him, Mr. Tibbolt,” Olive crooned. “It’s actually a funny story. Rafe uses the name Whitfield, so sometimes he doesn’t respond to Whitney. Mama forgets at times since he has Whitney family.”
Mr. Tibbolt furrowed a brow, and even Rafe met Olive’s gaze with awe. A simple declaration, but the words washed away his previous concern that a part of Olive didn’t want others to know the truth. Clearing his throat Tibbolt spoke in his raspy whisper. “How could she mistake the name?”
Olive chuckled. “Because his daddy’s side uses Whitney, but Rafe found he related more to the Whitfield side. No sense using a man’s name he didn’t know. Mama simply forgot at the first announcement, and well, here we are, one big snowball of names.”
Rafe flushed, but squeezed her hand. “My parents separated before I was born, sir. My father wasn’t a big part of my life.”
“Odd mistake, but I can’t fault you for using the name you know. Seems you still have connections with the Whitney name if you work with them.”
Rafe nodded, glancing toward Jace across the room “Yes, we have some connections that are still friendly and family oriented. She’s my cousin from the Whitney side, over there.” Mr. Tibbolt glanced at Jace who was laughing with Dot. “The mistake has been bothering, Olive, sorry for confusing the situation.”
Tibbolt chuckled like a jovial grandfather. “It is confusing, but I’m following. Don’t get the name wrong on the wedding, Miss Cutler.”
She smiled pleasantly. “Not a chance, sir.”
He nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, I just caught sight of an old business rival. Time to ruffle some feathers.”
“Don’t let my mama catch you,” Olive teased.
Mr. Tibbolt winked and shook his head before stalking across the room. Rafe let out a pent breath and hugged her close. “That was bold,” he muttered against her ear.
Olive tilted her face toward him. “I’m tired of hearing you called Whitney. That’s not the name I love, Rafe. And frankly, I’m tired of lying. I feel like sludge is running through my system.”
“I understand, but I still appreciate it, Ollie,” he whispered. “That was probably the sexiest thing you’ve done so far.”
She lifted a brow. “I assume that’s a compliment, but if that’s the sexiest thing I’ve done, then I need to work on my game.”
Rafe stiffened before responding. Beau glared at him as he drifted toward them, holding an unlit cigar again. Tearing his snarling gaze off Rafe, Beau smiled pleasantly at Olive. “Ollie, you look lovely.”
“Beau,” she snapped. “What do you want?”
“To apol
ogize,” he insisted, though the second part seemed to stick on his tongue. “To you both. I shouldn’t have come to your house, Whitfield. And Ollie, I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in your business. I apologize.”
Rafe didn’t trust Beau, but Olive seemed pleasantly surprised so he wouldn’t ruin it for her when she smiled and placed a hand on Beau’s arm. “Thank you, Beau. That means a lot.”
He smiled. “I also came to tell you, Aunt Bernie was looking for you—to talk, or something.”
Olive sucked in a breath, and Rafe wanted to know what was running through her mind, but not in front of Beau. She glanced at him before offering a cautious grin. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
He nodded, reluctantly releasing her hand. Beau faced him, the coy grin on his face fading slightly. “If you’re interested, Dawson was out near the creek, if you’d feel more comfortable with him.”
Rafe would feel more comfortable with Zac. He didn’t thank, Beau, but offered a curt nod before Beau disappeared back into the crowd. Conversation with people he didn’t know sounded as fun as swallowing nails, so after a moment of finding a place to set his empty glass, Rafe made his way outside.
He didn’t see Zac, but as he rounded the enormous oak tree, his heart stalled in his chest.
“Hi, Rafe. It’s good to see you.”
“What are you doing here, Dalia?”
She tilted her head, the strawberry coloring in her blonde hair shining in the light as she grinned triumphantly. “I think we need to talk.”
Chapter 19
Olive took a deep breath before drifting toward the study. Easing the door open, she caught sight of her mother fussing around a tea cart. “Mama. Beau said you wanted to talk with me.”
Her mother snapped to attention, brushing a curl shaking free out of her eyes. “Pardon? Oh, I suppose I mentioned yesterday we would talk. I’m just gathering a few more drinks.”
“I think we should talk,” Olive said, her voice trembling across her tongue.
“Olive, I don’t think this is the best time.”
“There won’t be a good time for you to hear me, and you know it.”
Her mother reeled her gaze over her shoulder with frosty intent. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Olive stood taller than Bernadette. Her hair was a shade darker, and her mother’s petite waist was the envy of her life. They were different and Olive could accept they might never see eye to eye, but this needed to be out in the open. Now.
“I suspect you know what I want to say, and you don’t want to hear it.”
“That’s ridiculous, how would I know what you’re meaning to say before you’ve said it.”
“I love Rafe, Mama.” Olive paused for half a breath to gather the glimmer of empowerment that came from the words. “I haven’t been pretending. I kiss him because I want to kiss him, mother. Because I love him. But I also suspect you’ve known about my feelings for Rafe for a long time.”
“Childhood crushes, are not feelings,” Bernadette insisted. “You’re caught up in this, that’s all, Olive.”
Olive shook her head. “No, Mama. I’m not caught up in anything. I don’t want Rafe Whitney. I want Rafe Whitfield, a mechanic, the son of a maid. The man who takes me as I am no matter what. I love him, and I plan to be with him.”
Bernadette folded her arms around her waist and stomped toward the window. “You’re being selfish, Olive Jane. Have you put any thought into how your choices affect this family? What would people say knowing we openly deceived them?”
Olive scoffed. “Mom,” she said, catching Bernadette’s attention at being addressed informally. “Who’s looking? And if they are, no one has any business in our lives, anyway.”
“He’s a fine young man, Olive,” she muttered. “Kind, respectful, but—”
“He’s not suited for me, right?”
Bernadette’s jaw clenched, and she glanced at the carpet. “A mother wants the best for her child.”
“Then you want me with Rafe. He might not be as wealthy as Tom, but he loves me, Mama. He treats me like a queen, he’s been my truest friend since we were kids.”
“You don’t understand,” she whispered. “The thought of you struggling, having judgment cast over you… It isn’t Rafe that I don’t want for you, it’s what others might say. You can’t understand until you’re a mother, Olive.”
“Mama,” Olive said, rushing to her side at the window. “I don’t care about the judgment, I don’t, but as my mother don’t you want me to be with someone who makes me feel like I can accomplish anything? You love Daddy, I see it when you look at him, that’s how I feel about Rafe.”
Bernadette turned away, slumping into a wingback chair. “What would you have me say, Olive? What do you want from me?”
“Acceptance,” she said with a rasp in her voice. “Accept me as a teacher in public school, accept me with Rafe. That’s what I want—your acceptance.”
Was she crying? Olive’s mouth dropped when her mother wiped her eyes. Bernadette’s voice was soft, and distant as she spoke. “You will always be my girl, Olive Jane.”
Every muscle in Olive’s face tensed into a cautious grin. It wasn’t a direct acceptance, but for Bernadette Cutler it was as close and beautiful as Olive would get. “Thank you, Mama.”
“Is he planning on… asking you to marry him?”
Olive grinned and glanced out the window. “I hope so.”
With a deep breath, Bernadette rested her head against the chair. “I expect him to ask our permission, Olive.”
Olive didn’t respond, her attention was locked on the creek where a flash of strawberry blonde was standing too close to Rafe for her comfort.
“Olive? It’s what I expect,” her mother pressed again.
“Yes, of course, Mama. Will you excuse me? I appreciate you hearing me,” Olive hugged Bernadette before her mother could protest, and met her eye. “Truly. I’ll be back.”
“Olive,” she called out. “I expect you to speak with your father!”
Olive didn’t say anything, in part because her pulse was raging in her head her hearing wasn’t as keen. Dalia was speaking to Rafe, her hands crawling over his arms. Girl—this was her house, and that was her man. Her slithering comeback was going to stop now.
***
Rafe backed away, but Dalia took hold of his wrist. “Wait,” she said quickly. “I understand. I do, Rafe.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “Understand what, Dalia. What are you even doing here?”
“I know about the engagement, and I understand why you did it.” She grinned, and tried to curl her arm around his neck, but he pulled back. “I thought for a moment you were serious about being with Olive, but I understand, baby.”
“Stop,” he snapped, backing away. “I am with Olive. Accept it, Dalia.”
She stopped, her eyes sharp and determined. “Beau assured me it wasn’t real, that you were doing it to get money for Millie.”
Rafe’s blood scorched new pathways in his veins as he curled his fists. “Beau told you. Beau Cutler hates me, you honestly think he’d tell you the truth or that he likes the idea of his cousin with me?”
Dalia stepped closer, her hand grasping his before he could pull back. “Fine, Rafe. I’ll go.” Her gaze looked once more at the party. “But only if you admit something to me.”
“What’s that?”
Rafe stumbled near the edge of the creek when Dalia gripped his face and kissed him hard and desperate. He gasped when she pulled back, though his eyes glared his annoyance. She smiled. “Admit that you don’t fit here—I know you, Rafe. You don’t think you’re best for Olive, admit it.”
He shook his head. It was one of the first things Dalia had asked him when they’d first gotten together. She asked if he had feelings for Olive. Like a fool he’d admitted he wasn’t a man that meshed with a woman like Olive. Cursing toward the sky he appeased her twisted jealousy if it meant she’d leave. “I’m not the best choice for a Cutler.”
“Do you mean it?”
Rafe scowled. “Everyone knows it, but—”
Dalia cut him off, her hands running along his biceps. “I could have told you a Whitfield, and a Cutler didn’t fit together, but I’m glad you know now too, Olive.”
Rafe followed Dalia’s gaze. His stomach lumped like a stack of bricks when Olive shook her head in disbelief. She smiled, there was a madness in her expression, and hugged her middle. “Ollie,” he began, but she held up her hand.
“You know, this is the second engagement party where a fiancé has cheated on me.”
Rafe fumed at Dalia. “I didn’t kiss her, Olive—she kissed me.”
Olive was like solid marble. She didn’t frown, or smile. She didn’t even shout. Olive stood still, disappointment bled from her eyes and carved out his heart before setting it on fire. “I didn’t see you putting up much of a fight. Two parties, Rafe, where a man told me he loved me yet I find him with another woman. At least Tom thought I was worth being with, he just thought Eloise was too. You though, well, I suppose you never planned this out for the long term. My mistake for believing all that talk about giving names—it was all just… empty words.”
“Olive, that’s not what I’m saying,” Rafe insisted, putting as much distance between him and Dalia as possible.
“Funny, I heard from your own mouth you weren’t the best choice for a Cutler. I’m tired of everyone thinking they know what’s best for me, or putting me on this pedestal above the world. I’m a woman, Rafe. I’m not a goddess, I’m not… a princess. I’m a woman who thought you were willing to face it all together.”
“I am,” he insisted, reaching for her hand, but she pulled back.
Shaking her head, Olive backed away. “No, you’re not. You assured me you didn’t care what others said. You told me you wanted to marry me, that you loved me, while all this time you’ve believed we weren’t suited. How long were you going to carry on before you let me down? Or am I doomed to know you will never see me as your equal? Will the pressure be too much when real life hits?”
The back of Rafe’s neck boiled when Olive turned and stomped toward the driveway. “That’s not what I meant, but you’re not listening. Like always you’re walking away when you don’t want to hear the other side.”