Page 44

ASH

F or a moment, I’m too stunned to speak.

Olivia’s admission is huge; that’s a given. And what I’m getting from it is that she’s insecure, but she wants to love.

Me.

She wants to love me .

So obviously I need to make sure my response puts her mind at ease and…

“Oh God…you’re not saying anything,” she says frantically. “I ruined this, right? You’re thinking of a nice way to let me down easy. Shit. Crap. What the hell was I thinking? I had a single glass of wine with dinner and…okay, maybe it was a really large glass, but it was still only one!”

She’s spiraling, but I don’t want to shout and startle her. “Liv?”

“And I mean…I get it, okay? I was a freaking mess the day you met me, and that was sort of my MO for those first few days, but…this isn’t normally me!

Maybe you just prefer the hot mess, I don’t know!

I just…dammit, Sebastian, I freaking love you and I don’t want to mess this up between us, but I think my stupid lack of confidence is going to do just that! ”

“Liv…”

“If you met my family, you’d totally get it. But then again, I don’t want you to meet them because they’re awful. Your family sounds so sweet and wonderful…and normal. The Ashleys are not. Trust me. Ask anyone.”

“Liv,” I say, firmer.

“And then there’s the whole Matt thing. They actually liked him!

Ha! It didn’t matter how much he screwed me up; somehow, they thought I was the one in the wrong!

What parent does that? And what does that say about me, huh?

I thought I was in love with Matt! All this time I’ve looked back and said I really loved him, but…

did I? Because I have to tell you, I never felt even one-tenth for him what I feel for you!

So…what does that mean? Do I even know what love is?

Can you even believe it when I say it? Will it be… ?”

“Olivia!” I shout, because clearly that’s the only way I’m going to be heard. “Can you please just…breathe?”

She’s quiet, so I’m hopeful she’s doing just that.

I swallow hard and decide to just lead with my heart.

“Olivia, I don’t care about your family.

I know that sounds harsh, but there it is.

I care about you and only you. I love you.

And it doesn’t matter if you’re in hot mess mode or completely chilling like we were on the beach. I love all of it. All of you.”

“Oh, Ash…”

“You have no idea how much I wish I were there with you right now—walking on the beach, holding your hand, and then holding you close as we look up at the stars. Then we’d go back inside and curl up in bed together and talk about the entire day as if we didn’t experience it all together already.

” I resent my job so much at this moment.

“We’re going to have it all again soon; I know it. Well, without the beach part.”

“Mmm…I’m really going to miss the beach. I didn’t realize how much I already missed it until we got here. I hate that this trip is almost over, but I know it means I’ll be back in Seattle and moving back soon. But yeah…beach.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to make a conscious effort to get to the coast,” I tell her. “Even if it’s not to Vanessa’s place, we’ll find another house or another beach to go to.”

She hums with approval. “I like the sound of that.”

So do I.

“I’m sorry I got so crazy a minute ago. The same thing happened when I was talking to the girls earlier. It all just hit me how much my family dynamic messed me up. It was never a huge issue before—although it was on other levels—but now that I’m with you? I got worried.”

Damn.

“Well, stop that. I don’t want you to worry or think there’s anything wrong with who you are because of them. You became an amazing woman who is definitely capable of love despite them, Liv. Be proud of that.”

I can hear her shaky breath.

“I hate that you’re feeling this way,” I go on. “And I hope the girls told you just how incredible you are.”

“They did.” She sniffles. “I honestly don’t know what set me off today, but I just sort of emotionally exploded all over them. I’m kind of embarrassed about it.”

“Don’t be. I think everyone had one of those moments on this trip. It wasn’t just you. At least you stayed put and worked through it.”

“True.”

“Tell me what I can do to make this better. I’m not really sure what else I can do or say.”

“You’re already doing it. I just…the sound of your voice is exactly what I needed. It helped me on the plane that day, and it’s still helping me. How wild is that?”

I chuckle because it really is wild and it’s always going to feel that way, but I’m so freaking thankful for it.

“Very,” I tell her. “But I’m glad I can help.”

“Mmm…me too. Okay, tell me about your day. How’s all the troubleshooting going?”

“Liv, please. You really don’t want to hear about that. It’s incredibly boring.”

“No! It’s not! This is what you do, and God knows you’ve listened to enough talk about this book that is never going to find a plot.”

“Still nothing, huh?”

“Nope. Although Vanessa had one earlier that I thought had potential, but it had me killing my dad, so…”

“Wait, what? Seriously?”

“Well, not me specifically. But the comparison was obvious. Trust me.”

I hate to admit that I’ve become mildly obsessed with coming up with the perfect plot for her or how many notes I’ve made on the subject. Still, I open my laptop and pull up the file.

“Okay, so no heroine that resembles you and no parents as the victims. Got it!” I tease.

“But what about this: Fawn Sinclair is a beautiful but clumsy investigative journalist who has never solved a case in her life. When she stumbles upon a mysterious USB drive labeled Top Secret/Do Not Open, she immediately opens it and finds vague, nonsensical emails about an international conspiracy that somehow all lead back to the small town of Candlewood.”

“Does she have to be clumsy?”

“She does,” I assure her. “It opens the door for all kinds of hijinks later on in the story.”

“Hmm…okay. Go on.”

“Okay, so…determined to prove herself, Fawn starts digging—only to be immediately targeted by dangerous men in dark suits who always seem to just miss catching her.”

“Because of her clumsiness or theirs?”

“Liv, please…that’s for you to figure out. I’m just the ideas guy. I can’t write the story for you.”

After she giggles, she clears her throat. “You’re right. Sorry. Go on.”

“Enter Dorian Blackwood,” I say dramatically.

“A former special ops agent turned brooding billionaire who has sworn off relationships ever since that one tragic incident he refuses to talk about. He saves Fawn from an extremely slow-moving car chase and, despite his gruff demeanor, agrees to help her for reasons even he doesn’t fully understand . ”

“What are his reasons?” she asks, clearly intrigued.

“You’re the writer. That’s completely up to you!”

“Alright, I guess,” she mumbles. “Then what happens?”

“As Fawn and Dorian get closer to the truth, their undeniable chemistry leads to an awkwardly timed make-out session while hiding in a dumpster. However, their passion is soon tested when she discovers a shocking twist: Dorian was involved in the conspiracy all along!”

“No!”

“Yup! Just as she decides she can’t trust him, the obvious villain—a corrupt senator with a mustache he twirls unironically—kidnaps Fawn and takes her to an abandoned warehouse.

Dorian arrives just in time for a final showdown.

The senator is defeated when he trips over a conveniently placed box, and Dorian and Fawn confess their love in the middle of the burning warehouse.

” I let out a long, dramatic breath. “It has everything! Action, suspense, romance, confusion…I think this one’s the winner! ”

She’s laughing, but I’m not sure if it’s because she likes the idea or she’s just humoring me. “Oh, it’s something alright,” she says after a moment. “I’m seriously impressed at all the effort you put into it.”

“I have a few more ideas if you’re interested!”

“Um…let’s pace ourselves. I promise to listen to one each night until you get through all of them. How does that sound?”

“Like you’re definitely just humoring me,” I murmur.

“Aww…maybe I am. Just a little,” she admits. “But I love how determined you are to help me with this. Maybe I need a tech guy like you. Tell me what a typical day is like when you’re on a troubleshooting job.”

“Seriously? I don’t see how…?”

“You never know where inspiration is going to come from. Humor me. Please.”

I groan, thinking about my day today. “Okay, but it’s incredibly boring, so…try not to fall asleep.”

She whines my name, so I just give in.

“Fine. We had an issue today where there were these constant beeping of alerts from the network operations center telling me something was wrong. So I pulled up the network topology map—which is a visual representation like a diagram that illustrates the arrangement and connections of devices within a network, showing how they communicate and interact. Anyway, users had been complaining about intermittent connectivity issues all day, and now, an entire wing of the office was completely offline.”

“Was anyone able to work?”

“Nope. So there was a lot of pressure on me to figure out this particular problem. First, I pinged the gateway and nothing happened. Next, I tried trace routing. That’s a network diagnostic tool used to trace the path data packets take from a source to a destination, identifying the routers—or hops—along the way and the time it takes for each hop, but the packets were vanishing into the void. ”

“Um…I’m officially lost.”

But that doesn’t stop me, because now I’m trying to prove a point.

“The obvious next step was to access the switch logs, and I scrolled past a sea of cryptic error messages like, ‘STP topology change detected…’ That’s a very common one, you know.”

“Uh-huh…”