Life Support (The Breathe Series Book 2) (29 page)

I’VE ENJOYED MY DAY off. After Olivia moved in, having the apartment to myself is a sweet luxury. Don’t get me wrong—I love that she’s living here and I love having access to her body whenever the mood strikes us, but there is something about being alone. I can fart and belch loudly without getting scolded. I can eat ice cream for lunch if I want, and I can watch sports for the next twelve hours. Outside of being buried balls-deep inside Olivia, this is the closest thing to heaven. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I don’t need to listen to my coworkers drivel about this and that. I can just…be.

I went to the gym this morning and ran a few errands. I wandered the aisles of the grocery store and picked up the items on Olivia’s list, adding some things of my own. I thought I would cook a special dinner for us, so I grabbed some artisan cheeses and bread to have with our meal tonight as well as a nice bottle of Olivia’s favorite white wine. I even managed to get some of my work clothes laundered. Olivia refuses to touch my work clothes, and I don’t blame her. That shit is nasty.

I hear the lock on the door turn and get up from the couch, anxious to greet my Olivia. Our eyes meet and she gives me a soft, welcoming smile.

“Hi, honey. I’m home,” she calls out with a mocking lilt to her voice.

“That still sounds so weird.” I shake my head before snatching Olivia into my arms. I plant a soft kiss on her neck and then her lips. I smell her hair. I’ll never tire of the way her hair smells like sunshine and the ocean. It makes it uniquely Olivia. “How did your presentation go today?” I ask as I help her out of her jacket. I give myself points for remembering her important presentation today on her new grant project.

“It went well!” She smiles as she bends down to pick up her computer bag and bring it to the table. “We garnered a lot of interest and the board asked a lot of challenging questions. I just hope they see the benefit of additional research for PTSD medications because the implications are enormous. But enough about my day. How was your day of leisure? Itch and scratch, belch and fart it all out today, did you?” Olivia asks with a smile.

“It’s like you were here. I’m proud to say I did all of that, thank you very much. I won’t give a repeat performance for you though, because I know how much that turns you on.”

“Yes. Thank you for that. You’re so gracious in your restraint,” she teases.

As Olivia starts to remove items from her bag, I can’t help but notice that there is something different about her. Is it her hair? You only get one chance to notice a new haircut.

“I like your hair. It looks great.”

Olivia swings her head around to look at me and flips her long, brunette locks over her shoulder. She furrows her brow and grabs a handful of her hair, taking a closer look at the ends. “Yeah? Thanks. I really need to get it cut and colored though. It’s been forever.”

Okay. So I missed the mark on her hair being different.

I walk up behind her and grab her hips, turning her around to face me. “Did you get a facial or something today? Your skin looks great. It’s like you’re glowing.” I run the backs of my fingers along her soft cheek.

She looks up at me with wide, almost surprised eyes, but they quickly soften. She clutches my hand, taking it away from her face, and simply holds it in hers. “No. No facial today either. Although I should get one of those soon too…” Her voice trails and she casts her eyes off to the side like she doesn’t want to look me in the eye. Is she embarrassed that she needs a spa day?

“Tell you what,” I say as I take her chin in my fingers and tilt up her head to look at me. “You’ve been working really hard on this grant stuff. Why don’t you tell me where you go do all your hair and face stuff and I’ll make all the arrangements for a spa day for you. You deserve to relax. You’ve been really tired lately and you seem…off. Just not yourself.”

Olivia closes her eyes slowly and looks at me again. “You don’t need to do that, Owen. I just—”

“I know I don’t need to do it, Olivia,” I say, cutting her off. “I want to. I want to do things that make you happy.” I tuck her hair behind her ear. Seeing her happy is my sole goal in life, and I’ll move heaven and hell to do it. “If you’re going to be my lady, there are certain things you must get used to. One,” I say, gripping her shoulders, “you must have sex with me. A lot. Which you’re the best at and you’ve done an amazing job at keeping me very satisfied in that regard, so congratulations on that major accomplishment.”

“You’re welcome.” Olivia chuckles, giving me a genuine smile.

“And second, you’ll need to get used to the idea of me doing nice things for you. I consider it part of my job and it’s something I love to do because I love you. You make me incredibly happy, Olivia. We’re in a really good spot, you and me,” I add, motioning my hand between us. “Things are going so great. I think we’re adjusting to this living together thing pretty well. Our jobs are going great. Yeah, we’re working too much and spending too much time apart, but I know things will calm down for us. In fact,” I say, getting an idea, “maybe we should plan a trip! Somewhere warm where I can stare at you in your bikini all day.” I smile, suggestively raising and lowering my eyebrows.

Olivia looks up at me, tears welling up in her eyes. A single tear falls from the corner of her beautiful blue eyes and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing that she’s emotional.

“Owen, I need to tell you something,” she murmurs quietly.

“What is it, baby?” I ask with concern. What has her so worked up? “Why are you crying?” I wipe away at the lone tear that trails down her cheek.

“I’m… We’re... I need to…” She pauses, takes a long, deep, almost fortifying breath, and looks up into my face. “I just love you so much.” She exhales and buries her face into my chest, throwing her arms around my waist. “I just need you to know how much I love you. Thank you for making me so happy…for loving me.”

I wrap my arms around Olivia and rest my chin on the top of her head. “I love you too, Olivia,” I whisper, still slightly miffed about her tears. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. You’re my everything.”

She’s not telling me the truth. I can feel it, but I don’t know what to do about it.

A soft sob escapes from Olivia’s mouth as she hugs me tighter, obviously not wanting to let me go. It’s like she afraid she’ll never hold me again.

I grab her arms from around my waist and ease her from my body. “I know there’s something more bothering you, and I also know you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” I say, searching her eyes. “But for now, you go change into some comfy clothes and then you can watch me put dinner together”—I lift my eyebrow—“and we can start planning our trip.” I smack her butt as I walk towards the kitchen, ready to wow my lady with my cooking skill and figure out what’s bothering her.

LAST NIGHT WAS DIFFICULT. I was so close to telling Owen about the baby. I wish I had pulled together the courage to do it. He left early for his shift at the firehouse this morning, and now, I’m taking my time getting ready, staring at my body in the mirror after my shower. Clearly, my body hasn’t made any physical changes yet, but there is still something different about me. I can’t place a finger on it, but I’m just...different.

After dinner last night, we cuddled on the couch, one of my favorite things to do. I fit perfectly into Owen’s side, and it’s one of the happiest places on the planet for me. I know he sensed that something was off with me, but after a week of his constant interrogation of my frequently odd mood, he has kind of given up. I feel bad about that too. I’m forcing the man I want to communicate with to
not
communicate with me.

I’m so frustrated with myself I could scream, which in turn makes me act weird—blah blah blah. It’s a vicious cycle and it’s become exhausting. I feel like someone who is cheating and has to work so hard to hide their horrible secret. Although, so much of me wants to tell him, share this joyful news, and believe that he will be just as thrilled. Just...not yet.

I walk into our closet, looking at my dresses hanging neatly on the racks. I may not fit into these much longer. I won’t look as sexy in them. Owen won’t want me the way he does now. My stomach does a somersault and a wave of nausea hits me. I run to the bathroom, making the toilet just in time to throw up the contents of my stomach. When I’m finished, I slide back against the bathroom wall and cry.

I’m so terrified that I’ll lose Owen. I’ve finally found someone who loves me. We broke through so many of our walls over the last year. And now, as if fate were playing some kind of cruel game, this happens. We haven’t even talked about pregnancy. Or marriage, in any great detail. Or what order those two things should go in.

I suddenly feel extremely lonely, and I realize that it’s because I don’t have anyone here to talk to about this. Laney and I have gotten close, but I can’t tell her about this. I don’t want everyone at work to know I’m pregnant. My parents are definitely off the list. My mother will be completely incapable of keeping her mouth shut. And Reese is great, but she’s so busy with wedding planning. Not to mention I’m her maid of honor and she’ll probably freak at the thought that I might not fit into my dress.
Oh fuck. The wedding.

I know what I need. My soul needs Charley. After crawling to my feet, I quickly brush my teeth again. God, puking is gross. I move through the house until I find my purse, digging through it to find my phone, and rapidly dialing Charley’s number.

Curling myself into a ball on the couch, I dial my best friend’s phone number. It’s early in Seattle, but I know that won’t matter to her.

“Livvie Lou? What’s up, love?” Her voice sounds like someone who has just been awakened abruptly in the early morning hours, but still makes me feel like she’s happy to hear my voice.

I grin. “Oh, Charley.” And before I know it, I’m sobbing.

“Oh shit, Liv! What happened? Is it Owen? I’ll fucking kill him!”

“Who’s that on the phone, babe?” I hear Marc in the background, groggy and half asleep.

“Oh, Charley, I’m so sorry,” I sniffle and try to regain my composure. I look at the clock on my phone and realize that it’s a little after five a.m. in Seattle. “I’m sorry. I know it’s early. Go back to bed. I’ll call you later.” I close my eyes, trying to muffle my sobs behind a hand closed firmly over my mouth.

“Are you fucking kidding me? No way!” I hear shuffling and her mumbling something to Marc, followed by the telltale sounds of a kiss. “Sweetheart, what happened? Why are you crying?”

I take a deep, staggering breath. “I, um... I have something to tell you,” I say, deciding to just jump in headfirst.

There is a long pause as she waits for me to finish that sentence. I hate long pauses.

“Charley, I’m pregnant,” I whisper barely audibly. My stomach roils again, but I manage to keep the bile down. I haven’t actually said this aloud yet, and my anxiety goes from a 4 to DEF CON 5 in a nanosecond.

There is more silence. Lots of silence.

“Charley, did you hear me?” I ask, the weeping starting again.

“Liv…I... I’m so happy for you.” I can hear her crying. Why is she crying?

“Charley? Why are you crying?”