Page 20 of Olivia’s Only Pretending (Sweet River #3)

Fifteen

G roup message with Lucy, Olivia & Gracie

Lucy

*sends multiple screenshots from their mom’s LoveLocal inbox of her accepting date offers*

mom is just accepting almost every date offer!

some of these guys look like creeps. Especially the first one I sent.

I think we need to intervene.

Gracie

I just got mom to stop snooping around my love life, I do not need to start snooping in hers

“ I t feels like my uterine lining is clawing its way out,” I groaned into my phone’s speaker, sending a voice message to Lucy. I was burrito-wrapped in my thick white comforter on Saturday morning.

Lucy was calling again. She was adamant we sisters needed to investigate Mom’s new suitors. Meanwhile, I was curled up in a ball on my bed, hanging onto my heating pad for dear life. I had no energy to investigate.

I patted around my bed for my remote so I could put on something light and fluffy to distract me from my period pain. I turned on Friends .

Rachel and Chandler were eating cheesecake off the floor when my phone vibrated again. I slid the call open without checking the screen. “Lucy, call Adam or something,” I groaned into the phone.

“I talk to Adam more than enough, actually.” Victor laughed. “I tend to avoid my boss on the weekend.”

“Sorry,” I said, my voice muffled by my pillow. “Didn’t check who was calling. Lucy has been trying me all morning.” I glanced at the clock on my phone. It was eleven a.m., and I still hadn’t gone downstairs for coffee. My stomach growled, too.

“You doing okay, Liv? You sound down.” Victor’s voice softened as he checked on me.

I paused the show. “I’m cramping pretty bad, actually,” I admitted. Over the summer, Victor had become familiar with how bad my menstrual cramps could be after seeing me clinging to my heating pad multiple times.

“Ah, Menstruella is here?” Victor, after learning this about me, had also nicknamed my period.

I shook my head at the name.

I buried my face under my pillow. No one but my sisters and mother had ever known me so well. How had the goofy younger guy from the coffee shop with a crush become someone I shared this much of my life with?

Maybe because only the goofy younger guy had ever made me feel safe enough to share it all. He had tenderly taken care of each piece of me I gave him until there was nothing left to share now. He could even tell when my period was here.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“You still in bed?”

I just laughed.

“You need another coffee delivery?”

I could imagine him standing in his kitchen with his lazy weekend hair, pouring himself a second cup of coffee. He’d smell like minty toothpaste and fresh laundry.

“No, no. Enjoy your weekend. Go be young and carefree.” I snuggled deeper into my bed. “I’ll eventually leave my bed for supplies.”

“You have painkillers?”

“I keep them in my nightstand.”

“Okay, okay.” He still sounded concerned.

“I’m fine, Victor. I’ve had Menstruella visit monthly for over a decade. I know how to handle her.” Said the woman in the fetal position, ignoring her stomach growling for food.

“I’m sure you can handle her. You’re Olivia Rhodes. You can handle just about anything. You just don’t always have to handle everything,” Victor said, his voice bordering on chastising, but still soft around the edges.

“I have Chandler and Rachel. I’m good. It’s the cheesecake episode.”

He chuckled. “Okay, Olivia. Promise me you’ll eat?”

“Stop worrying. Girls have periods all the time. I’m lucky it’s a Saturday, and I can mope and don’t have to teach class through the cramps.”

“None of that makes me worry less.” I heard a door close, and a lock turn on his end of the call.

We hung up, and I forced myself to brush my teeth and shower.

The way Victor knew all these personal little details about me was more intimate than any other guy friend I’d ever had. The way he checked on me—the concern in his voice—blurred the lines for me.

Our phone call didn’t feel like a conversation I’d have with my best guy friend. It felt like something hazier, closer. Something I wasn’t sure I was ready to name.

I was padding around my kitchen, about to start my coffee maker, when the doorbell rang.

I could see his shadow through the window on my door. I had to fight my grin.

“Victor Hernandez,” I said in a tone of disbelief as I found him on my front porch with his arms full and a coffee cup in his hand.

He waltzed into my house, heading to my kitchen.

I trailed behind him in my baggy gray sweatpants. “I told you to go have fun.”

He set the load down on the kitchen table. “I think I’ve made it pretty obvious by now that I don’t find anything more fun than hanging out with you.” He turned to me. “You haven’t even had a cup of coffee yet, have you?”

“Okay, no, but I have showered.” I pointed to my wet hair.

He placed the warm cup in my hand. I could smell the spicy sweetness of a dirty chai latte. My whole body responded as I took a sip.

He patted a takeout bag. “I got you a big breakfast sandwich. Google said you need iron.”

My stomach growled in response. I glanced at a box on the table. “Chocolates?”

“Growing up, my dad always got my mom a box of her favorite chocolates when it was her time of the month.”

I smiled. That sounded like Linda and David. I could imagine little Victor watching his dad pick out his mom’s favorite chocolate at the grocery store.

I chuckled when I spotted tampons and pads. He followed my gaze.

“I wasn’t sure what you like or need.” He shrugged. “I also got a bottle of Midol. Google recommended that, too.”

I set my cup down, rubbed the soft fuzzy socks from the bag, and looked through the pile of my favorite snacks.

An image of Victor throwing everything into his grocery basket, hurrying through the store to get here quickly so I didn’t get too hungry, popped into my mind.

I felt my heart tug in my chest. I threw my arms around his neck. He held me tight against him. With his big hands against my back, I could feel his heart beating through his white T-shirt.

“You’re too good to be true sometimes,” I said into his chest. I felt tears spring to my eyes at the truth of it. He was so good. Sometimes, it scared me. Like if I relaxed into it too much or held onto it too tight, it’d burst. I’d lose it just like that.

“Nah, you deserve someone to get you food when you’re hungry and don’t feel good. Simple as that, Liv.” He reached over for the takeout bag and plopped it into my hands.

Victor retrieved my heating pad from upstairs, and we set up a cozy spot in the living room. I’d nestled under one of my favorite throw blankets when he said, “Wait,” and ran back to the kitchen. He came back with the fuzzy orange socks.

“Do those have pumpkins on them?” I asked.

He nodded. “I thought they were festive.” He grabbed my feet, slipping them on me.

“I can put my own socks on.” I giggled.

“Again, I know you’re a fully capable woman. I just like to help you.”

“Help me put socks on?”

“Help with anything.” He shrugged a shoulder.

He was already making me feel better. “I am getting a big preview of what an overprotective dad you’re going to be.”

He grinned at that comment, his eyes crinkling in that way that made my stomach flip.

We bickered over movie choices like we always did. Victor thought we should watch something new, but I wanted an old comforting favorite. I won. We watched Titanic , and I sobbed into the tissue box in my lap, while Victor ranted for a good ten minutes about how they could’ve shared the door.

I shared my chocolate with Victor. We ordered Chinese for dinner and ate straight out of the containers, side by side on the couch.

His jacket was thrown over my dining table. His sneakers were on the ground by the door. His arm was slung behind me on the couch. Victor invaded all of my spaces.

How had our lives become so intertwined?

My heart felt that familiar tug. A tug I never felt brave enough to examine, even though I knew I should. If I was giving advice to my younger sisters, I would ask them, and what do you think that feeling means?

But in moments like this, I didn’t want to mess any of it up.

It felt delicate, like when someone falls asleep on your shoulder and you try to stay perfectly still to not ruin the moment.

For months now, I’d been holding still in every way that mattered, trying to keep my feelings still, my thoughts still.

I didn’t want to ruin this. I didn’t want to wake up.

And why would you think that would ruin it? I’d press my younger sisters. Stupid big-sister brain.

I pushed the pushy-big-sister thought away.

“You look like something’s going on up there.” Victor gave my foot a squeeze. His eyes were on me.

“Always.” I ran a hand through my hair, pulling my feet closer to me.

“Work stuff or life stuff?” he asked.

Us stuff , I thought quietly.

“I don’t know.” I looked down at my hands, knotted up in my lap. “I was thinking how our friendship feels so easy. It feels so easy to let you into my life. It’s never felt like that with anyone else. What is it about you?”

“Maybe it’s because I show up at your door even when you tell me you don’t need any help,” he said in a self-deprecating tone, mostly jokingly.

But the words cut straight to my heart.

Most people walked out my door without notice, but Victor was the opposite. He would show up without notice.

Dad had slipped out the door even though I cried for him to stay. For so long, I cried for him to stay.

Ryan had packed his bags and left, even though I wasn’t going with him. Even though he’d told me he would stay.

But Victor always showed up.

He was over here even when I told him I was perfectly fine without any help. If he knew I was in pain, he’d show up with a bag of supplies. If he knew I was sad, he was hanging birdhouses in my backyard.

I didn’t have to ask, or hint, or hope for him to care. He just did it.

“You’re joking, but it’s true. You do show up. I know I can count on you to show up.” I curled my body to face his against the sofa cushion.