Page 36 of Olivia’s Only Pretending (Sweet River #3)

Twenty-Five

S unday night was Halloween. Jack-o’-lanterns lined my neighbors’ front porches, and large fuzzy fake spiders clung to their bushes.

Kids were racing down the street in princess dresses and superhero capes long before the sun went down.

The sound of children giggling carried in through my open windows.

All week long, I’d tried to push the looming holiday to the very back of my mind.

Over the past several weeks, Victor and I had text messaged costume ideas back and forth: Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable, Ross and Rachel when they were in Vegas, Ferris and Sloane.

Or Victor’s favorites, which were a cheeseburger and fries or tequila and lime, since he’d been rooting for some kind of food-based costume.

What started as a joke about our “pretend couple costume,” much like everything we pretended was a joke, easily slipped into something more real. Now I had our salt and pepper costumes hanging in my closet. These silly costumes would go sadly unused.

I stood in my closet, rubbing the soft fabric of the salt costume between my fingers, wondering how I could believe I had a chance of keeping Victor neatly compartmentalized in the friend zone? How did I believe he was in the friend zone at all anymore when I ordered us these matching costumes?

I’d envisioned the two of us passing out candy to trick or treaters together, sitting on my front porch side by side. I’ve been fooling myself.

You can’t force something to be safe just by taping a less intimidating label on it. Calling dynamite a birthday candle might make it sound innocent, but in the end, it only makes it even more dangerous. It makes it something mislabeled, misused, a disaster waiting to happen.

Denying the chemistry—the dynamite—between Victor and me was always a disaster in the making.

L ucy, Adam, and my mom showed up on my doorstep dressed up in costumes and their arms loaded with pizza boxes.

“I need a slice of pepperoni pizza, stat,” I nearly whimpered as they walked through the doorway. The spicy aroma of pepperoni wafted by me.

“Where’s your costume?” Lucy asked, in a tone of surprise. She and Adam were dressed as Lucy and Ricky from I Love Lucy . My mom had thrown on a pair of felt orange cat ears. “You’re Olivia. You always win the costume competition.”

I was known for how seriously I always took my Halloween costume. I deliberated for weeks, months sometimes, and narrowed down the options until I finally landed on the costume. And I always made sure to have my costume secured on time. I didn’t want to risk being costume-less on the 31st.

Last year, I dressed in a historically accurate medieval bliaut and headdress, which was the talk of the history department the entire week after.

The year before that, I wore the lime green Isabella Parigi costume from the Lizzie McGuire movie that I’d won in a charity auction.

I’d worn it to a costume party, and every millennial woman present recognized it on sight.

Yet, here I was, in a pair of baggy gray sweats and a white T-shirt, on the 31st.

“Weren’t you supposed to be, like, paprika or something?” Adam asked, setting the pizza boxes down on my kitchen counter.

I reached into the cabinet for paper plates. “Salt. I was going to be salt,” I said, leaving out the pepper counterpart.

“Salt?” Lucy raised a brow. Then, keeping her judgments on my costume to herself, she asked, “Did it not come in on time?”

I tapped the counter. “No, it came in. I had second thoughts about it, though. I’m not sure I like it.”

“It’s got to be better than nothing,” Mom said, grabbing a plate from me. She opened the pizza box, and the scent of marinara and cheese filled the kitchen.

“Is that why you only have on a pair of cat ears?” I asked.

“I have on a striped shirt,” Mom countered. “I’m one of those cute little striped cats. Like Garfield.”

“It’s just surprising because you’re you ,” Lucy said, sitting down at my kitchen table. “The idea of competing with whatever you were going to have on is part of the reason I amped up my own costume so much.”

I looked over her blue and white polka-dot dress and pinned-back curls, and Adam’s suit and fedora. They had amped it up.

The doorbell rang, giving me an escape from this costume inquisition. I grabbed my big wooden bowl of candy and ran to the door.

As I gave the tiny trick-or-treaters handfuls of candy, I searched the faces of the grown-ups standing behind them. What if Victor and his nieces and nephews were trick or treating on my street?

My heart climbed up my throat as the trick-or-treaters skipped down my porch steps. I looked out into the busy street outside my house. The streetlamps were aglow, and red and orange leaves were underfoot. I searched the crowd for his face, but he wasn’t there.

I was the reason he wasn’t here.

The sun set in oranges and pinks while my doorbell kept dinging, and the bowl of candy slowly dwindled.

My house slowly started to smell like crisp apples, oranges, and cinnamon.

I walked back into the kitchen after changing into my saltshaker costume to find my mom stirring mulled apple cider on the stove, a canister of my cinnamon sticks open beside her, and the leftover bits of an orange—a tradition from my childhood.

Every Halloween, my mom’s house would smell like mulled cider and candy.

I walked over to her and rested my head on her shoulder.

“How’re you doing, honey?” she asked me with a Texas drawl.

“I’m …” I felt myself open a little. A crack. “Okay.”

“Only okay?”

I heard a movie start from the other room. I peeked over the kitchen island into the living room. Adam stood in front of the TV, holding the remote, while Halloween Town ’s opening credits rolled across the screen.

“There sure are a lot of Snickers bars in the candy bowl,” Lucy said, walking back into the kitchen after handing candy out. “And you know what? I think I like the saltshaker costume. It’s just missing something.”

I closed my eyes, my head still resting against my mom. Something was definitely missing tonight.

“Oh, you know, it would be cute if someone else was the pepper!” Lucy said. “You should’ve had Victor over tonight, and he could’ve been your pepper.”

A knife in my chest. Being twisted.

“Why isn’t Victor here?” Mom asked.

“It’s honestly weird he’s not,” Lucy mused. “He should be here and have built some table for us to set the candy bowl on or something.”

Mom chuckled at this, echoing against my temple. I lifted my head.

“Is he with his family tonight or something?” Adam asked from the living room.

“He’s been MIA lately,” Lucy said.

“It’s just been a week,” I said defensively, my voice high. “He’s been MIA for one week. It’s not that crazy.”

“One week, for you guys, is a little crazy,” Lucy said, her voice lower, softer.

Tears prickled against my eyes. Oh, no, was I about to cry? “Fine, Lucy, the truth is … we’re on a pause. I told him we needed a break, a pause , okay?” I said, bursting into a small sob. Too many questions. Too many feelings.

My mom’s hand found my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“A pause?” Lucy repeated, her brow furrowed.

“Yes, a pause,” I said. “It was dumb. So dumb . I wanted time to get clarity—to be sure I was making the right choice with him. I care about him and our relationship, so much. I thought I was being smart. Now, I think …” I took in a shuddered breath.

“I think I was just pushing him away. I probably hurt him. We haven’t spoken this whole week. ”

“Oh, Liv.” Lucy stepped closer, placing a hand on my arm.

I shook my head. “He was supposed to be the pepper to my salt. He was supposed to be here. He was why I bought all those Snickers bars. They’re his favorite.”

Mom and Lucy enveloped me in a big hug. I felt another sob rising in my throat. “I’m the one who made us pause, but I’m the one crying. It’s so dumb.”

“Sounds like you pressed pause to check how you’re feeling?” Mom said softly. “Seems to me like these tears are the answer.”

I wound up curled up on the couch watching Halloween Town after the trick or treaters started to slow down. I had a warm mug of cider in my hands, and Lucy and Adam were cuddling on the other end of the sofa. She’d put on his fedora.

A cathartic kind of relief had expanded in my chest since I’d finally cracked open and shared how I felt. A sense of comfort I hadn’t expected.

“You know,” Adam said, talking over the movie. “I’d been wondering if something happened between you and Victor.”

“You had said that.” Lucy nodded from her spot in his arms.

“What made you think something happened?” I asked.

“Victor gave it away, honestly,” he said. “My usually happy-go-lucky, smiley employee acted so blue this past week. His smile gone. Shoulders always slumped. He looked like he wasn’t sleeping. And he kept asking me about you.”

I let out a breath, like all the air had been taken from my lungs. Heart ripped right out of my chest.

Oh, Victor.

“Okay, so hold your laughter,” Mom shouted from the staircase, interrupting our conversation. Her steps padded across the floor.

She stepped into the living room, and a smile immediately broke across my face. She was in the pepper shaker costume.

There was a shy smile on her face. “So, it’s not exactly my size,” she said softly. “But you’ve always got the pepper to your salt in me.”

My heart melted. The pepper costume in a men’s large completely hung on Mom, but she was still the cutest pepper shaker I’d ever seen.

I set my mug down on the coffee table. “Thanks, Mama.” My voice was wobbly with tears again. I jumped up from the couch and wrapped her up in a hug.