Page 23 of The Shift Between Us (Covewood #2)

Chapter Eleven

Luke

“ I f you come out of that bathroom naked and we collide into each other, I will die. Right here in your grandmother’s house.” Olivia waves her hands in the air as she rambles on.

“This isn’t The Proposal .”

“Then what is this ?” she squeals, gesturing wildly to a red-and-pink quilt.

I lay out my things on the bathroom counter before looking through the mirror at Olivia. My brow rises in question as I study her for a moment and shrug my shoulders. “One of my Nonni’s quilts?”

“Or is it the ‘baby maker’ blanket? Your grandmother did mention that she wanted great-grandchildren running around.”

“Well, it takes more than just sleeping in a bed together to create children. Do I need to give you the birds-and-the-bees talk?”

My smirk grows as her cheeks redden. Olivia begins to bite her thumbnail.

It’s something she does when she’s nervous.

I understand it’s about us sleeping in the same bed together.

I don’t think it’s as big of a deal as she’s making it out to be.

Or maybe it is? Because the thought of sharing the same space with her at night, feeling her warmth next to me, sends a zip of electricity through every one of my nerves.

“It’s not a big deal, Liv. We’ve fallen asleep on the couch together before,” I say, hoping it’ll help settle her worries.

I turn around to face her as she holds my gaze, shades of green and gold peppering her eyes.

I drift my focus over the planes of her face.

Over the constellations of freckles dusting her cheeks.

Over her mess of crimson-colored tangles.

Over her nose that’s short and curved at the tip.

She’s absolutely stunning, and I’m so gone for her that I’ll take whatever little slice she’ll give me, even if it’s all I'll ever get.

When Olivia told my family we were dating, I was completely blindsided. I knew coming here would be stressful, and I asked her to join me so I could have someone in my corner. It felt like a solid plan at the time. Leave it to my family to take one look at us and jump to conclusions.

Do I want those assumptions to be true? Absolutely . But I have to make sure that I’m careful because I’ve risked losing her before, and I refuse to do it again.

It’s why I’ve been so careful not to cross any lines with Olivia, why I’ve stood on the sidelines, watching her give time and attention to guys who never really see her—not the way I do—and now I can’t help wondering if this is my chance.

Is this the moment I get to show her how incredible I think she is?

She made me promise this wouldn’t change anything between us, but what if this is something more?

Maybe it was hearing her call me hers or watching her jump in to defend me without hesitation, but that moment changed the way we looked at each other.

I’ve been pretending for so long that I could keep us in this safe, platonic bubble. I used to think that staying friends was my only option to hold onto her, but maybe I’ve been lying to myself. I’m standing on the edge of something I’ve wanted for longer than I care to admit.

What if this fake relationship isn’t just a way to survive the weekend…but the beginning of something real? God, is this your plan? Is this your way of answering a prayer I've been saying for years?

I don’t have to lay it all out for her—not yet, anyway. But this weekend can be my chance to show her—not just tell her—what it could be like if we blur the lines a little.

“I know. You’re right,” she replies, drawing me back to the present.

“Sharing a bed together will be no different. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I can sleep on the floor or find a couch to crash on.”

She nibbles on her thumbnail some more as she contemplates my words. I walk toward her and tug her hand away from her mouth.

“It’s just…”

I wait for her to continue. Her eyes search mine.

“I’ve never shared a bed with a man. Ever…” Her words trail off.

Olivia and I share almost everything with each other—our thoughts, our fears, our histories. Everything except those types of relationship details. I never ask because I honestly don’t want to know.

The thought of her with someone else ignites fire within me. It’s irrational, maybe even unfair, but I feel it all the same. It burns in my chest and runs hot through my veins, like jealousy I don’t have the right to feel.

I feel it anyway.

“I trust you. There’s no need to sleep on the floor. We can share a bed for the weekend.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

She nods, and the corners of her mouth twitch, a heartbeat away from smiling. “Yeah. I’m sure. ”

“Come here,” I say after a moment of silence, and I tug her toward me until she’s pressed against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, rubbing small circles onto her back, and whisper into her hair, “Everything will be okay.”

She nods, pushing back so she can look up at me.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I admit, grinning down at her.

She gives me a shy smile. “Me too.”

It takes us about twenty minutes to get settled into our room.

It’s ridiculous how much I love our things being mixed together, like they’ve always belonged in the same space.

Her jacket draped over the chair. My bag beside hers.

Toothbrushes lined up like a couple who actually planned this. Everything feels…right.

Her scent is already in the air, smelling like cream-cheese frosting and melted caramel. I catch myself leaning in on instinct, just to breathe her in. I step toward Olivia, closing the distance, and take her hand into mine. Her eyes widen as I intertwine our fingers together.

Ignoring her nervous energy, I lead her to the bedroom door and say over my shoulder, “Come on, we have some faking to do.”

We join my family for dinner, and by the grace of our good Lord, we are told that my dad is too tired to join us. The stress leaves me instantly, a heavy weight lifting away from my shoulders.

I introduce Olivia as my girlfriend to my Uncle Leo who goes into a long story that my cousin Jerrica rescues us from by requesting that Olivia and I help her with her luggage.

Olivia sparks up a conversation with my cousin Sophie about how much longer she has in her pregnancy as I take her five-year-old daughter, Emma, into my arms to give her a hug.

Olivia’s gaze slides over to mine, sharing something soft and warm with me, smiling in the same way she does when she sees me and Annabelle together.

Nonni announces that dinner is ready, and everyone rushes to sit at her huge dining room table.

Olivia lights up as she takes in the large spread of food laying before us.

There are four different types of pasta dishes, lamb chops, and a rotisserie chicken.

The sides are two large bowls of salad and different types of bread.

Olivia mouths ‘ Wow ’ to me before filling her plate.

I grin in response, giving into my body’s instincts and leaning into her simply because I can.

She’s looking at me, but I don’t have time to process what her facial expression means.

I’m too caught up in the euphoria sweeping through me at the familiarity of everyone gathering together.

After we say grace, my family wastes no time diving into questions.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sophie asks, handing a piece of bread to Emma, who claps joyfully.

Olivia looks to me for some sort of confirmation. Should I go first? she silently asks. I nod. Go for it.

She returns her gaze to Sophie and replies, “We met in middle school when I punched Luke’s bully in the throat.” Olivia shrugs her shoulders, like it’s no big deal, and looks at me. “We’ve been friends ever since.”

It’s the true story of how we met, and I’m not sure why I expected her to make something up, but the way my family all turns and stares at her causes a laugh to burst from me.

“You sure know how to pick them,” Dani cackles before shoving a bite of salad into her mouth.

Everyone joins in the laughter, and I have to fight the urge to wrap my arm around my ‘normally’ untouchable best friend.

The friend who once left a sticky note on a stranger’s windshield because their bumper sticker made her laugh, and she didn’t want them to go unnoticed.

The woman who made a special batch of peach muffins to give to my coworker Elliott after he lost his grandfather.

The person who sings every word to “Shoop” by Salt-N-Pepa every single time we go to karaoke night.

Instead of fighting the urge, I lean into it, wrapping my arm around Olivia’s shoulder, bringing her closer to me.

My instinct is to go slow and see how she’ll react to each slight adjustment as we fake a relationship in front of my family.

I’m starting to wonder if it’ll be enough.

I only have three and a half days to gently show her how I truly feel.

“So you’ve been friends since middle school. But when did you realize it was more than friendship?” Sophie asks.

Without thinking too much, I place my nose to the shell of her ear and whisper, “It was just today actually.” I linger for a moment, reveling in the way goosebumps appear over her skin.

She clears her throat, and knowing that I have some sort of an effect on her is going to drive me crazy. I want to push against the boundaries we’ve created, see how far we can take this fake relationship, even if it’s a hoax, even if it’s temporary. I want Olivia to become mine.

“Well, I think the moment I knew we had to take things to the next level was when I witnessed Luke wearing a pair of suede-leather pants. I saw the fringe and knew I was a goner.”

A loud boom of laughter escapes me—so hard that I snort embarrassingly. I return my gaze to Olivia and catch the way she’s looking at me, and it presses into something I’ve kept locked up for a long time.

“Suede pants, huh?” Sophie’s husband says, looking at his wife. “I should get myself a pair and see what it does for Sophie.”