Chapter Eight

I drive back to the farmhouse in a daze. Glancing at the clock, I'm shocked to discover it's just before noon. Already this day feels like one of the longest of my life – and it's still only morning.

And to think that I woke up today as happy as I've ever been.

It was a moment I'd longed for for far too many weeks – maybe even months: Olivia's body draped lazily over my own, her arms wrapped around me, the way she tightened her grip on my hips just before she woke up. It was perfect.

But then life had intervened, as it so often does. First came Coop's awful car accident, and then the terrifying news that Phillip Spaulding was back in town. One thing piled onto another, and suddenly it had all been too much to bear, both for Olivia and for me.

Almost immediately, we'd fallen back into old habits: Olivia lashed out at me, and I ran away. Worse, I'd let my frustration with her – her self-destructive need to push me away, her talent for getting under my skin – overwhelm my fears for her safety.

Even though I don't know the whole history of Olivia's relationship with Phillip, I've heard enough about the man to know that he's trouble. And, as much as I'd like to, I can't deny Olivia's point that the timing of his return to Springfield is suspicious.

And yet, you left Olivia and Emma all alone at the farmhouse, just because you were angry.

I press a little harder on the gas. I'm well past the speed limit, but there are no other cars on the road and I know this route like the back of my hand. As long as I don't meet any police along the way, I should be home in five minutes.

As I drive, my mind flashes back to the scene I just left at the hospital. On my way there, I had picked up some sandwiches, but I might as well have brought the Coopers a pile of sawdust for all the good it did. Sitting helplessly in the waiting area outside Coop's room, I watched them all slowly falling apart. Everything I said felt wrong, like I was just reciting a bunch of empty clichés and hollow prayers.

After all, I knew exactly what they were going through. Almost a year ago, I was the one praying over a man's broken, dying body, and hoping for a miracle that never came.

Or, I correct myself, a miracle that came in a different form than you expected.

I grip the steering wheel more tightly as I let my thoughts drift back to that difficult time. Never in my life had the saying "God works in mysterious ways" been truer than during those days between Nicky's accident and my decision to give Olivia his heart. That was one of the most gut-wrenching choices I ever had to make, and it hadn't come easily.

As much as I'd like to forget it now, I can't deny that I gave serious thought to letting Olivia die instead of giving her the heart she so desperately needed. In the immediate aftermath of the accident, I had blamed her for what happened. After all, Nicky had been speeding to find her when he crashed. I was convinced she had taken everything from us – from me – and I was determined not to let her take one more thing.

In the end, it wasn't my feelings for Olivia that made me give her Nicky's heart – all of that would come later. It was watching Emma visiting her in the hospital. The idea that that sweet little girl would grow up without a mother, simply because of my own selfish need for revenge, was too much to bear.

I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that the moment I chose to help Olivia stay alive was the same moment she decided to give up and die. But, in a strange way, that's exactly what saved Olivia: her constant desire to die only motivated me to keep her alive. And, in the end, my persistence won out. Despite the bitter, angry hopelessness that threatened to swallow Olivia whole, my stubborn presence ultimately forced her to come back to life.

In the process, and without me even realising it, she brought me back to life as well.

Now, almost a year later, I feel completely united with her: mind, body, and soul. It is at once the most intense and the most terrifying connection I've ever shared with another person in my life. Even my feelings for Nicky don't come close to touching this. That was a fantasy love built on imaginary promises and teenage lust; this is a real love built on the trials of life and an unshakable trust.

Not that there isn't also lust, I smile to myself. But, it is a completely different sort of lust. I don't just want Olivia: I crave her presence. Even before I knew what to call it, I needed to be near her. I've always wanted to breathe her air and feel her touch, even when it was offered chastely and with no expectations. That's why I finally had to leave the hospital: I felt that invisible thread pulling me to Olivia.

As I turn into the driveway, I'm relieved when I don't see any immediate signs of danger: no broken windows, no fire, and no bulldozer about to tear down our house.

Thank God.

I breathe easier when I push open the door to the kitchen and see the pile of valentines stacked neatly on the table. There's an open bottle of red wine on the counter, but Olivia's only had a glass. It's a little early for drinking, even by her standards. Luckily, she must have realised the same thing because the kettle has been boiled, and there's a faint smell of tea in the room. All of this hits me like a breath of reassuring air: proof that nothing horrible has happened while I was gone.

As I begin unbuttoning my jacket, my cell phone rings. I look at the caller ID and my heart drops when I see it's Frank.

"Hi Frank. Is there any news about Coop?"

"No, he's still the same," Frank replies. "I'm just calling to tell you that Phillip has been arrested."

Relief instantly floods over me. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that."

"I knew you would be," he says. "And I thought you'd want to let Olivia know."

"I'm home now, so I'll tell her," I reply. "Thanks, Frank. Keep me updated on Coop, okay?"

I hang up as I turn the corner into the living room, where I find Olivia sitting in the rocking chair with a cup of tea in her hands.

"Hi, uh…" She looks down guiltily. "I thought you were staying at the hospital."

I perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of her and offer her a faint, crooked smile. "Well, you can relax. Phillip is in jail."

She releases a long, slow exhalation. "How's Frank?"

"I brought the Coopers some sandwiches," I shrug.

As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I realise I'm avoiding her question. It's my trick for pushing away anything too personal: shift the subject to something else. Sandwiches are easier to talk about than death, so I talk about sandwiches.

I meet Olivia's searching gaze and slump a little.

"It was really hard being there," I admit quietly.

Recognition dawns all at once on Olivia's face. "Oh my gosh, it's been nearly a year, hasn't it? I shouldn't have let you go over there by yourself."

She reaches forward and puts her hand on my knee, and I know instantly that our earlier argument is behind us. I cover her hand with my own and squeeze it gratefully.

"It's almost a year," I say, repeating the realisation as much to myself as to her. "And now there's another man there, fighting for his life after a car crash. It's almost a year since you got his heart. And I just stood there, and watched…"

"Gus die and me live?" Olivia finishes. Her face is full of unspoken guilt, and I bring her hand up to my lips to bestow a feathery kiss on each of her knuckles.

"All I really wanted to do was just come back here," I confess, pressing her palm against my cheek. "I wanted to come back here and be with you."

With a short, understanding nod, she moves off the chair and bends to her knees in front of me, sliding her arms around my waist.

"I'm sorry I ran off like that," I whisper.

"I'm sorry I pushed you away like that."

We breathe a shared sigh of relief and pull each other tighter. Eventually, Olivia leans back to meet my gaze, and as I look at her expressive face, I finally understand the old cliché about falling into a lover's eyes: because it captures exactly the heady, tumbling, off-balance feeling I'm experiencing right now.

Suddenly, the idea that Phillip – or anyone else, for that matter – might want to threaten Olivia's safety hits me like a sucker punch, and when I speak next my voice cracks with emotion.

"I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Gus died, but I'm not going anywhere," she reassures me, tucking my hair behind my ear, just like I did for her upstairs earlier this morning.

"This has nothing to do with Gus," I reply firmly. "I don't want anything to happen to you. Or Emma. I want to keep you both safe."

She smiles. "You're going to take on the entire Spaulding clan for me?"

"I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure nothing happens to you."

Her smile slowly fades, and she looks like she's about to tell me something, but then she shakes her head and grins again.

"I've gotta say, I'm liking this whole knight-in-shining-armour thing you've got going on."

I tilt my head and return her smile. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it's kind of hot," she murmurs, pulling me into a kiss.

I slide off the coffee table to join her on the floor, and it doesn't take long before I realise that we're about three seconds away from spending the rest of the afternoon in my bedroom. With an enormous push of willpower, I force myself to slip out of her embrace.

"So," I say, standing up and grinning at Olivia's exaggerated groan of protest. "What should I make you for lunch? Because we have got to keep your strength up for what's ahead."

She gives me a look that tells me her mind is still buried deep in the gutter.

"Which is?" she asks suggestively.

"Not that," I counter, pointing a warning finger at her. "Sooner or later you're going to have to see Phillip."

Her face instantly darkens at the mention of Phillip's name, so I try to shift the subject to something a little less touchy.

"There's some soup in the fridge that I was going to have for supper, but I was thinking that we could have it for lunch instead."

"Okay," she agrees. "What will we have for supper, then?"

"Well," I smile shyly, offering my hand to pull her to her feet. "I was thinking about taking you out."

Olivia's eyes light up. "Out for dinner? As in a dinner date?"

"Yeah." I try to keep my voice casual, but I can hear my nerves betraying me. "I thought maybe we could go to Towers for a nice meal. You know, since it's Valentine's Day and all."

Olivia smiles brightly, but her cheerfulness is quickly clouded as a new thought occurs to her.

"That sounds great," she begins, and my heart drops at her tentative tone. "You have no idea how much I would like that. But, Natalia, we can't just go out on the town together. Especially not now. We've already got Alan out for blood… and who knows what spies Phillip has prowling around Springfield, looking for any excuse to take my daughter away."

"I get all that," I nod. "But you and I go out for meals together all the time. Why does this have to be any different?"

"Because it is different."

"I know that," I reply softly. "And you know that. But no one else knows. Not yet, anyway. So, why don't we take advantage of that and have one night out together? We can worry about how and when we're going to tell the town later."

Olivia tilts her head, thinking over my suggestion. After a moment, a smile slowly works its way across her face.

"Does that mean yes?"

"That means yes."

She leans down and kisses me, and then we move to the kitchen, where Olivia begins cleaning up the remnants of Emma's valentines while I put the soup on the stove. Once it's heated, Olivia puts a spoon in the pot to taste it.

"Let's see…mmmm, smells good." She licks the spoon and immediately sputters. "A lot of salt in this! What are you trying to do, kill me?"

"No, I need your rent money." She grins at me but makes no comeback. "Would it help you any if I went with you to see Phillip?"

She shakes her head and steps closer. "Phillip has a tendency to hurt people who cross him. I don't think you know what he's like."

"I know what the Spauldings are like," I point out. "And I know I would do anything to help Emma… and you."

"Well, if we're going to flag a bull, we need a plan," she announces, her voice full of false bravado.

"We tell the truth?" I suggest. "That Emma lives here, in a wonderful home, with two people who love her."

"Two people who are… what, exactly, to each other? Because Phillip's gonna want to know."

I can't quite read her expression, but it's not hard to guess why she's worried. We've just leapt into something with each other, and neither of us is entirely certain where it's going. It's new and different, and terrifying. And, at some point we're going to have to talk about all of it. But not today.

"You worry too much." I take a step closer and lay my hands lightly on top of hers. "And my offer still stands. If you want me with you, just ask."

She looks at me silently, and then she lifts her arms, which is all the invitation I need to envelop her in a tight hug. A few seconds later, she dips her head so that her mouth is at my ear.

"I want you with me," she whispers.

I press her closer. "Always."

tbc