Coming of Age (6 page)

“Cause, honey girl, I love you but even I have my limits and this Debbie Downer mode you’re hanging onto is starting to wear on me.

“You’ve got everything in the world going for you. Success, money. Hell, you survived a fucking bomb. You’re talented, smart, and beautiful and there’s no reason you shouldn’t be enjoying the hell out of your life.

“But you won’t let yourself because of Max. Those six months you spent with him have become a fucking prison and you’re like someone with the Stockholm syndrome. You won’t let go and let yourself be happy.”

“Lyd, it’s not—“

“Liv, it
is.
Look, I do love you and I’m saying this because I do. Find Max and answer his questions. Ask the ones you have. Then figure out how to let go and move on. It’s time. It’s way past time.”

Olivia wanted to argue, but what would be the point? Lydia was right. She was holding herself down, afraid to move forward and afraid to look back. She was in limbo and it was self-created.

Time for her to take control of her life again. And the first step was finding out what was in the box Max gave her.

She hugged her friend, thanked her, and literally ran home. One there, she took the box from the top of the dresser and sat down on the bed.

One deep breath and she opened it. Inside were letters and printed emails. Hundreds of them. She dumped the box on the bed and started sorting, according to the dates on the postmarks and headers of the emails.

The oldest was dated in August of 2001 and the newest just a few months ago.

How could he have written so much? She looked at the letters. Most were unopened, marked as undeliverable, but some had never been mailed. The emails were the same. Emails he’d composed that had been returned.

He must have saved everything.

Suddenly it seemed vital that she know what he had to say. She started with the oldest, tearing open the envelope to remove the folded pages.

Dear Livi

*****

Olivia had not slept and had existed on caffeine and granola bars for three days. She’d read Max’s letters and emails repeatedly.

It was hard to imagine that he’d continued to write all these years. Even more of a surprise was the photos included with some of the letters, photos of times they were together.

She never realized he was taking so many shots of her. Particularly not photos of her while she slept. She had taken several out of town gigs while Max worked for her, and had taken him with her.

Being determined to keep distance between them as much as possible, she always booked two hotel rooms. Not that they’d used them. More times than not, they ended up in her room, watching television, eating takeout and talking. Max normally fell asleep on the foot of her bed, or if there were two beds in the room, on the empty bed.

Or so she thought. Apparently, he was quite busy while she slept. While it made her a little uneasy to see photos of herself asleep, she had to acknowledge his skill. With little to no light, he’d managed to manipulate the exposure and produce some great images.

She picked up one from the bed. She remembered the place because of the ugly curtains they had made fun of. In the photo, light from the overhead bulbs along the walkway in front of the rooms seeped through a part in the curtain, casting a slanted ray across her on the bed.

She was on her back with her face turned toward the camera. The bedcovers were tangled, covering her from navel to knees and the tank top she wore had risen up, exposing her torso.

Olivia studied the image and thought of that weekend. It took place just a few weeks before Max’s high school graduation. They were in Wilmington to shoot a wedding.

May 2001

It was a beautiful beach wedding and Olivia was psyched about the great shots they’d gotten. Held at one of the luxury hotels, the parents of the bride had spared no expense, including the healthy fee Olivia had charged.

Once the reception was over, they packed up and headed back to their rooms. They’d been given a nice suite with an adjoining bedroom. The bride’s mother insisted they take a few bottles of champagne with them as additional thanks for their hard work.

Olivia didn’t refuse, even though she was already feeling the effects of the champagne she’d consumed after the bride and groom had left to go to the airport. The bride’s parents had insisted that she and Max knock off, dance, drink, and enjoy the end of the event.

She’d enjoyed it. Maybe a little too much. She and Max had danced and shared more than one long look that had her blood running a little hot. Not to mention the sizzle she had from the way he looked in his suit. More than one female at the reception had been eyeing him, and quite a few had asked him to dance.

He’d told her about past girlfriends and his perceived lack of popularity and she was sure that his shyness was what kept girls from cozying up to him. He saw himself as very average, and that perception he had of himself kept him from initiating things with the opposite sex.

Tonight should have demonstrated quite clearly that the opposite sex definitely found him appealing. She was glad for him and a little ashamed that she was jealous. Maybe she was just accustomed to having his attention. Maybe she was just a little drunk.

Whatever the case, she couldn’t help but admire him as he crossed the suite towards the balcony door where she’d taken a bottle of the champagne and was watching as he put away the equipment.

He loosened his tie as he walked to her and that simple act brought lusty thoughts to mind. Thoughts of more than his tie being removed. She shook away the thoughts and handed him the bottle of champagne as he stopped beside her.

“I’m pretty toasted,” he said as he accepted the bottle from her. “You sure you want this?”

“Do you?”

He shook his head, put the bottle down on a small table, and leaned against the railing of the balcony, facing her.

“So what do you want to do?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “You don’t want to know.”

“Sure I do.”

He shook his head and looked down. Olivia moved closer. She put her hand under his chin to lift his face enough that he was looking at her. “Come on. What?”

His smile faded and the look that replaced it took her breath. Suddenly every cell in her body seemed filled with a longing that was near painful in its intensity.

“This,” he said softly and pulled her into his arms.

Olivia wasn’t the most romantic woman in the world, but the kiss was like a homecoming. Love, lust, joy, pain, sorrow, and need all exploded into a wholeness that could only be described as home, a place she belonged.

Maybe that’s what she craved the most because for a brief moment she forgot the difference in age and experience. She forgot her fears for the future and sank into the moment.

“Livi,” he whispered against her lips when the kiss ended.

If ever she had heard love, it was uttered in that one word. It elated her. But on the heels of elation, reality crashed in and she was back to being a woman trying not to fall in love with a boy.

“Max,” she put her hand on the side of his face, allowing herself one final touch. “We can’t.”

The look on his face clearly communicated his disappointment but to his credit, he nodded. “I know jailbait.”

She nodded and let her hand fall away. “Want to go for a walk or something?”

“No.”

“TV?”

He shook his head and took her hand. “Would it be against the rules to just lie on the bed and listen to the surf for a while?”

Her first reaction was to say yes, but the look in his eyes, that plea within their depths overruled. “I think we can bend the rules a little.”

They went inside and fully dressed, lay on her bed. Max gathered her to his side so that his arm held her and her head rested on his chest. Olivia laid there, eyes open, listening to his breathing and the sound of the waves on the shore.

Her hand lay on his chest. When his hand covered hers and she felt his lips on her forehead, she closed her eyes, wishing she were ten years younger or he was ten years older.

Thoughts of “if only” followed her to into sleep and into a place where she could love Max freely.

The Present

She could still remember how it felt to wake in his arms, to look up and see him watching her. To see the love shining in his eyes, the wanting and frustration battling for control. She could feel it now, that overwhelming desire to make everything different, to make it possible.

And she could remember the feeling that twisted her heart at the knowing that no matter what she felt, this thing with Max was not meant to be.

Even now, those feelings tore at her. She tucked the photo back into the envelope and picked up the last letter he’d written and allowed herself to do something she’d wanted to do for a long time.

She cried. Cried for the young woman she’d been who was too afraid to follow her heart. She cried for letting her fear dictate her decisions. She cried for the anguish and hurt she’d caused him and for the loss of something so rare and precious.

She cried for them both and for her fear that it was too late to mend that hurt.

And when she was cried out, she slept. For sixteen straight hours. She woke feeling weak, hungry, and for the first time in what felt like forever, determined.

She reached for her phone and called her boss. She needed a favor. At first, he was hesitant but in the end, he gave her what she wanted. Max’s phone number.

Olivia’s hand shook as she dialed Max’s number. It rang four times. She decided she’d hang up if it went to voice mail.

Then he answered. “Hello?”

“Max? It’s Livi.”

Chapter Five

The Present

Max had just a few months until his book released. His publisher had already set up a tour, twelve cities in six weeks.

The producer who’d purchased the rights to the book was already bugging Max for a script. He wanted to get into pre-production as soon as possible.

Max had been working on the script, or trying to. Ever since he saw Livi, his focus had been shot. Had she read the letters? Surely, she would have read them?

But if she had why had he not heard from her? It’d been weeks.

Unless, he considered, his worst fear was real and all he’d felt was nothing more than something he’d cooked up in his head that had no basis in reality.

The thought that he could have been that wrong and that foolish made him feel ill. He couldn’t have been wrong. If he was then his entire life, all he’d believed and felt and loved – it had all been a lie.

That possibility made him feel so small and like such a fool. And the feeling of foolishness brought a companion. Anger.

He shoved back from the desk, kicked over the chair and stomped into the kitchen. Just as he opened the refrigerator to get a beer, his phone rang.

He considered ignoring it and let it ring. When it rang the fifth time, he snatched it up.

“Hello?”

“Max, it’s Livi.”

Shock had him struck dumb. Then anger reared its ugly head. She’d had weeks to get in touch and she just now responded to a boxful of him dumping his heart on a plate?

He hung up and proceeded to get drunk.

*****

Olivia stared at the phone. He’d hung up on her. She just sat there staring at the phone. She’d spent the last three days reading how much he loved her and he hangs up on her. What the hell?