"I have a tummy ache," whines Olivia, resting her head on my lap and propping her feet up on the armrest of the couch.
I kiss her hair and smile. "Then maybe you shouldn't have had sixteen chicken wings. What on earth possessed you to do that?"
She pouts adorably. "But I was hungry."
"That's right. And now you're sick."
She laughs. "I was gluttonous!"
She looks so proud at having used a fifty-cent word that I have to laugh with her.
I wake up one morning in Olivia's arms, and when I open my eyes, I see that she's smiling down at me. Brushing a few strand of hair back from my face, she says, "'Morning, sweetie."
I smile back. "Good morning."
"Guess what?"
The tone she uses makes me a bit skeptical. Olivia usually isn't this cheery at six in the morning. I hesitate, then ask, "What?"
"We have Thai food for breakfast!"
I stare at her as if she's lost her mind. "What are you talking about?"
"I got hungry at three in the morning, so I ordered in Thai," she explains.
"At three in the morning?"
"Yeah. Got to love twenty-four hour delivery. So anyway, by the time it got here I was too tired to eat it, so I put it in the fridge and thought we'd have it for breakfast."
I can't help but laugh. Olivia is just so . . . Olivia. "Then Thai food it is."
There are half a dozen roses on my desk when I get in to work. There's no note with them, but I know right away who they're from. I breathe in the sweet scent of the flowers and smile, thinking of the woman who left them. It occurs to me for a moment to wonder why, but I quickly brush the thought away. This is what she does for me sometimes, leaving little gifts that make my day when I find them.
I hear a knock on my door and smile to myself, assuming it's Olivia. "Come in."
It's not, though. It's Elliot. He's clasping and unclasping his hands, looking uncomfortable.
"Hey, Elliot," I say with a smile. "What's up?"
He clears his throat. "Liv wanted me to tell you . . . she won't be seeing you . . . she's . . . I can't really talk about it."
Then I understand. "Undercover?"
He nods.
I feel like crying. Why didn't she tell me? Sometimes her undercover stints last just a few hours, but I know that they can stretch on for months.
Then I remember last night, the gentle, beautiful lovemaking, the way she kissed a trail over my entire body and spent the whole night watching over me, holding me and giving me intermittent kisses. I hadn't understood; I'd thought it was just another one of her demons. But now I know. She was memorizing me.
I've already memorized her.
Today is the anniversary of my brother's death. He died when he was eighteen and I was twelve, in a car accident. He was drunk. We were always close; he was always protective of me and I adored him, admired him, revered him, wanted to be like him.
In the wake of his death, an emptiness appeared in my heart, a space that could only be filled by Andrew. But then I met Olivia, and although she couldn't replace my brother, she gave me something else to hold on to.
She knows that days like this are hard for me, and when I get home exhausted, with tears in my eyes, she gently guides me to the bedroom, undresses me ever so gently like she does sometimes before we make love, and tucks me into bed, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. For a moment, I feel like a child, but as she lies down beside me and starts to rub comforting circles into my back, I decide that I don't mind. The tears come and she holds me, letting me cry it out in her arms. It doesn't numb the pain, but it makes it that much more bearable.
I'm in that in-between land, drifting back and forth from sleep to consciousness, my body unable to decide which one it yearns for more. On one hand, I'm exhausted, but on the other, I'm in Olivia's arms, my head resting on her chest, and she's holding me so tightly that it's almost as if we're one body rather than two.
I'm almost asleep when I feel Olivia press a tender kiss to the crown of my head and so softly that she's barely audible, she whispers, "I love you, baby."
And I feel her heart skip a beat when I murmur, my voice thick with grogginess, "I love you, too."
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