Livvy (47 page)

His admission makes my stomach jittery. I try to recover by talking to the hostess, but Jon snakes his arms around me and kisses my neck before I can get any words out. I revel in the feeling for a few seconds too long. It just feels so good to be loved by him.

“Miss Holland, your parents are already here,” the hostess says. She hands two menus to a host, and he leads us to their table in a private room separated from the rest of the space by frosted glass windows. I can be certain they didn’t see Jon’s attempt to make out with me in the entrance.

Dad stands up when we enter, and I kiss both him and my mother hello, taking the seat next to my father, purposely creating a buffer between him and my boyfriend. I want to be able to hear every word exchanged, and sometimes they have a tendency to discuss things about me when I’m not within earshot. I know they have my best interest at heart, but it frustrates me sometimes. I’m an adult now, and no one should be making decisions on my behalf anymore.

“I know you have plans with your friends tonight, Jon, so we won’t keep you too late.”

“It’s no problem, Jack,” Jon says, tucking his napkin in his lap. “The band I want to see doesn’t come on until eleven, so we have plenty of time.”

“Well, Trey should be ready to leave Stevie’s well before then, so you’ll excuse us if we don’t stay for dessert,” Mom says.

“I don’t know,” Jon says. “You have to have a cupcake with me.”

“I stopped by Kelly’s. They’re in my bag,” I tell them.

“Of course we’ll stay,” Dad says. We all look over the menu, ready to order when the waiter comes in to check on us.

When we all have our drinks, Dad lifts his glass of wine up to the middle of the table. “A toast,” he begins.

“Here we go,” I say sarcastically, earning a glare from my father. I smile innocently, picking up my glass and playing along.

“To Jon, who is officially no longer a teenager today,” Dad says. “Although in truth, you haven’t really seemed like one in about eight years.”

“There’ve been a few times,” Jon corrects him.

“I don’t like to dwell on those,” Dad says. “Happy birthday to an exceptional young man who has really enriched all of our lives.”

Mom smiles sweetly at Jon, who looks a little caught off guard by Dad’s toast. “Thank you, Jack.” We all take a sip of our drinks in Jon’s honor.

“And secondly, to my little Contessa. I hope you’re able to keep an open mind about our upcoming trip, and that you can make the decision that’s right for you when the time comes. You’ve earned all the accolades and opportunities, Livvy, but the future is yours. You make the choice. Nobody makes it for you.”

“I know, Daddy.” We clink our glasses and take another drink.

“I hope you don’t think I’m trying to dissuade her,” Jon says defensively. I hadn’t thought that Dad was talking about him influencing my decision, but it’s clear that Jon has taken it that way. “I stand behind whatever decision she makes. I’ve told her that. She knows she has my support either way.”

“I didn’t mean it that way at all, Jon,” Dad says, taken aback by Jon’s outburst. “I’m more concerned that Livvy will feel–”

“I’m right here, Dad. If you’re talking about me, talk to me.”

He sighs and turns his direction to me. “I’m more concerned that you will feel obligated to take this apprenticeship because of Ariana’s generosity and hospitality this spring break. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes to that if you don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“I know,” I assure him. “And Jon,” I say, turning to him, “I will discuss my decision with you first. I know you stand behind me, but I want you to tell me any concerns beforehand. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says quietly. “And my apologies, Jack. I misunderstood.”

“It’s fine, son. You probably have a right to jump to that conclusion.” Both he and my mother smile weakly at him. “Let’s talk about this trip.”

“Let’s,” I say.

“All I ask is that you two behave politely in Mrs. Cardosa’s company, do you understand?”

“Of course.”

“I know this will be your first vacation together, but you need to remember at all times that you are a guest in her home.”

“Dad, we know,” I tell him, hoping he’ll stop insinuating what I think he’s insinuating.

“We’ll pay for incidentals and meals, and I hope she’ll take us on a tour together to look at the places you’ll be working, but this is our spring break, too,” he says. “Jackson’s going to DisneyWorld with Stevie, Matty and the boys.”

“I thought he was coming, too.”

“We didn’t think he’d have fun by himself. He’s thrilled to go to Florida. And frankly, we’re thrilled to have a vacation without kids for once.”

“Well... good, I guess,” I tell them, not wanting to think about why they want or need time away from us.

“Don’t make me regret this, Liv, okay?”

“Dad, I want to make a good impression on her, okay? Just trust me. I know how to act civilized and professional. And Jon, well, he can be trained–”

“Hey!” he cuts in laughing.

“You know he can be very
adult
, too,” I tell my dad, and I’m sure he already knows this.

“No drinking when we get there, honey,” Mom says. “I know the drinking age is eighteen, but please don’t make us worry.”

“I swear Mom, we’ll be the perfect little travelers.”

“Okay,” she says. “I trust that you will.”

After our food is delivered, Dad asks Jon what his summer will entail if I’m in Brazil. He tells my parents about his plans to continue work at the firm he’s been with. I also tell them that I’ve asked him to stay at the loft to save money on temporary housing over the summer. By their expression, I’d say Mom and Dad expected the news.

After dinner, Jon and I stop by the loft so I can give him his birthday gift.

“Give me your tie,” I demand when we get in the door.

“I like this gift already,” he says as he loosens the knot and slips the tie over his head. When he turns around to kiss me, I stop him, placing my finger on his lips.

“Not now. Turn back around.” He does as I ask, and shirks away from me momentarily when I try to fasten his neckwear over his eyes. “Trust,” I say to him, knotting the tie at the back of his head and adjusting it over his eyes.

“Baby, you didn’t have to buy me my own Aston Martin,” Jon teases.

“Yeah, and we had it airlifted to the roof by a helicopter,” I say sarcastically. “Hold my hand.” He complies and lets me pull him to the studio area of the loft. I position him in front of the drafting table that Matty had set up while we were gone, and tell him to take a seat on the ergonomic leather chair. “Stay there for a second. Keep your hands in your lap and don’t peek!”

“This is exciting!” he says, enjoying the attention. I walk to the curtains and pull them shut, making the loft completely dark except for a few lights from various electronic devices around the apartment.

Positioning myself between Jon and the table, I take off the blindfold, keeping my hands locked behind his neck so I can kiss him.

Getting carried away, he stands from the chair to press his body against mine, backing me up against the table. He removes his hands from my back and knocks on the desk behind me.

“What are we making out on?” he asks.

“Your present,” I tell him coyly. He doesn’t give me any room to turn around, still wanting to be close to me. “Take one tiny step backwards,” I whisper, and he does, finally dropping his arms to his side. Once I’m able to move, I flick on the lamp. He blinks to let his eyes adjust to the light, then finally sees the gift. “I want you to be able to work here sometimes... so you don’t always have to stay in the studio at school since you say people play their music too loud. Or, you know, maybe you can do some of your work drawings here.”

“Olivia, it’s perfect!” he says, dragging his hand across the laminate top. “Can you turn on all the lights?”

I quickly find the switch and turn on the track lighting. He walks around the desk, checking out the split-top that provides plenty of room for large sketches and a separate flat surface for his laptop. He pulls open the tool drawer and smiles when he sees the sharpened graphite pencils and technical pens, both in a full range of point sizes.

“Thank you so much, baby. I’m astonished. I wish you wouldn’t do so much for me though,” he says, settling back into the chair.

“But I want to,” I explain. “I want you to feel comfortable here. I want to give you a reason to be here at the loft.”

“Trust me, you’re the only reason I need. Come over here.” I walk over to him, taking the hand he extends to me. “Someday, Liv, I hope I can give you back all that you’ve given to me.”

“I have no doubt you will. You do whatever you set your mind to do. But all I want is you. Just tell me I have you, and I’m perfectly happy.”

“Of course you do.” He stands up and hugs me tightly.

CHAPTER 16

After staying up most of the night in preparation for our flight to Brazil, both Jon and I slept through half of the flight. The rest of the time was spent watching sitcoms on his laptop. I watched them, anyway. Jon was busy sketching some ideas on napkins, brainstorming for an assignment his boss had given him before we left. Pressed for space, he had to pack his sketchbook in his checked luggage. I’ve decided to make sure he has it on the way back.

Dad types in the address to Ariana’s studio in the GPS, and starts driving the rental car through the crowded streets of Florianópolis.

“I expected it to be much hotter here,” my mother says.

“Do you ever plan for trips, Mom?” I ask her, laughing, having checked the weather every day for the last two weeks to make sure I packed accordingly.

“That’s what your dad’s for,” she says.

“She always packs whatever she wants anyway,” Dad says, earning him a slap on the arm from my mother. “You’re going to argue with that?”

“I thought you stopped caring about that,” she says.

“I learned it made no difference what I said to you a long time ago, Poppet.”

“You’re a smart man.”

“It beats Manhattan!” Jon says. “No threat of freezing temperatures for a week. I heard it was going to snow!”

“That’s true,” Mom concedes, turning the car vents off of her.

“Well, I guess this is the place,” Dad says, turning into a gated lot. He rolls down the windows, informing the man at the entrance that we’re here to meet Ariana. The man guides us into the lot and directs us to a parking spot close to the building. While Jon and I are unpacking our bags from the trunk, a beautiful woman with long, dark red hair and a flowing blue dress approaches the car.

“Livvy Holland,” she says with no hint of an accent. She
is
American, but I assumed she would talk differently. “It is such an honor to finally meet you in person!” She walks right up to me and embraces me warmly. “And this must be Jon. Livvy has told me the sacrifice you would make to let her spend the summer here, and I want to thank you for considering the opportunity.”

“It’s her decision,” Jon says. “I’m anxious to learn about it, though. Mainly because I’m jealous of the exposure,” he laughs.

“Livvy says you are interested in art and architecture, is that right?”

“Yes,” he admits.

“Well I think you will love the surroundings here. Styles are so varied–modern, traditional colonial, art deco... there’s something for everyone.”

“See ya,” Jon teases me, walking away with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

“There will be plenty of time for that this week,” Ariana says warmly. After a visible sigh, she holds her arms out to my parents. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Holland. It is such a pleasure to meet both of you. Mr. Holland–”

“Please call me Jack,” he corrects her.

“Yes, Jack, let me just say that I have been an admirer of what you and your wife have done for the city for quite some time. I have tried to model myself after you since I moved here ten years ago. My husband and I are very involved in the community. I’d love to open an art school, but I just don’t have the time for it now. Maybe when I’m older... or maybe when I can pass off some projects to a young protégé,” she hints, putting her arm across my shoulder.

“It’s very rewarding,” my mother responds. “It’s probably our greatest achievement,” she says.

“Aside from our children, of course,” Dad says.

“Livvy is such a poised and talented young woman.”

“I don’t know about poised,” I tell her with a blush.

“Nonsense,” she disagrees. “The paparazzi deserve to be flipped off every once in awhile.” We all laugh at her justification. “Let’s get you two settled in the apartment,” she says to me and Jon, “and then Raphael should be finished preparing a traditional Brazilian feast in an hour or so. We can go downstairs for a drink before we eat.”

“Oh, I hope you haven’t gone to too much trouble for us,” Mom says.

“Of course I have, Mrs. Holland. I’m trying to convince your daughter to leave her city and her boyfriend and her generous parents for three months. I think she deserves a little fanfare.”