Livvy (31 page)

“You could pick one up from the market,” she says. “If you’d like to do that, that would be nice. Is there anything your mother typically makes that you like to have for dinner?”

“My mother? No. But my neighbor used to bring my brothers and me pumpkin bread,” he says with a wistful smile. “Not for dinner, but for breakfast that morning. We would heat it up, with butter and cinnamon.”

“Pumpkin bread, huh?”

“Please don’t go to any trouble, Emi. Maybe our neighbor will visit Mom if she comes for Christmas.”

“I’m glad you brought that up,” Dad says, taking a seat at the bar. The doorbell rings before he can continue. Trey runs to the door, but waits for my mother before opening it. After she gives the delivery man a tip, she carries two large bags of food back into the kitchen.

Dad gathers some napkins and utensils and puts them in the center of the kitchen island. “Hope it’s okay to have a casual meal tonight,” Dad says as Mom empties the contents onto the countertop.

“That smells so good,” I gush as I find the container of Ravioli Al Porcini and remove the lid hurriedly. Jon sits politely, not grabbing at the food like I am. I spot his lasagna and hand it to him. “Bread?”

“Sure,” he says. Mom and Trey take their seats at the small dining table while the rest of us eat at the bar.

“Anyway,” Dad says. “Emi and I would like to invite your mom and brothers to stay with us for Christmas.” Jon looks at me, but I’m sure I look just as surprised as he does. They hadn’t run this by me yet. “Your mom could stay in the guest room downstairs, and Max could stay with Trey. The sofa in the media room folds out into a bed for Will, or we could set something up in the game room, if he wanted.”

“That’s an incredibly nice gesture,” Jon says, sounding unsure.

“Just consider it our gift to you. We’ll pay for their airfare. Your aunt is more than welcome to come, too, if she’d like.”

“I don’t know, Jack.” Jon sets his fork down and folds his hands in his lap. “I mean, she was already talking about coming, so...” He sighs, as if he’s in thought. “She was going to have to leave my brothers, though. I think that’s what was stopping her.” When he looks back up at my dad again, he simply nods his head. “That would be incredible,” he finally concedes. “It would mean so much to her, and to my brothers. I’d love to spend the holidays with them.”

“Then it’s decided,” Dad says. “We can make arrangements one day this week.”

“Thank you,” Jon says sincerely. “I’ll get to spend Christmas with everyone who’s important to me. I couldn’t ask for anything more. And don’t get me anything else,” he says to me, poking me in the side. “This can be from all of you, okay?”

“Whatever you say, baby,” I tell him sweetly. He grins and kisses me quickly before finally returning to his dinner.

On Wednesday afternoon, I meet Katrina at Grand Central Terminal. Before catching a cab, we play with some gadgets at an electronics store and stop at Li-Lac for some treats. Matty had introduced me to the place a few years ago, and I couldn’t pass by the store any time I was in Grand Central. I pick up chocolate for myself and my cousins and peanut brittle for my mother. I had almost convinced her to try a marshmallow bar last year, but she changed her mind at the last minute. It’s not that she’s allergic, or that chocolate makes her physically sick. Her aversion to the confection is purely psychosomatic. She’d once associated it with her father’s affair. After succumbing to a pregnant craving for it following thirteen years of abstinence, Nate had taken her to the store to indulge her. That was the night he died, and her hatred for chocolate was solidified.

I
do
remember seeing her sneak some when she was pregnant with Trey, though.

Dad had suggested therapy a few years after they married, but upon seeing her reaction, he never brought it up again. We’d all just accepted that Mom and chocolate were not meant to be.

“Is there anywhere else you want to stop?” I ask my roommate.

“No, I’m set,” she says happily, taking a bite of chocolate-covered coconut.

“You know who else likes coconut?”

“Who?”

“Finn,” I tell her as I hail a cab. “It’s his favorite.”

“Is it?”

I nod my head after giving the driver instructions. “He’s on standby for dinner tonight. It’s up to you. If you’d rather a girls night, you and I can go out... but if you’d like to see him, he can’t wait to see you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I assure her. “We can invite him to the loft once you settle in. Jon’s there already.”

“Is Jon okay with me being here?”

“Of course he is. He’s social and likes to be around people.”

“I wasn’t sure, since he stole you away on your birthday.”

“He does like to be alone with me sometimes, too,” I tell her with a blush. “But that night, we just talked. We hadn’t talked in months, and–”

“I know, Liv. I’m just messing with you.” She pulls her hair back in a loose ponytail and takes out her lipstick to freshen up.

“I promise we won’t sneak off unless you want us to. Oh, but we should all hang out on the rooftop tonight. I bet Matty can get us some champagne or something. Dad just had these heaters installed. We can bring up some blankets–”

“Okay, one step at a time, Livvy,” she says. “I’m nervous just to see him. Now you’ve got dinner and a romantic rooftop evening planned. He may see me and realize he’s made a mistake.”

“If you’ve held his interest this long over the phone, Katrina, he’s not just going to ignore you now. And if he does, it’s probably because
you
make
him
nervous or something.”

“Why would I?”

“Because you’re super smart, and he’s... well, he’s Finn.”

“He’s smart,” she argues.

“Street smart,” I tell her. “And he figures things out. But he’s not book smart. School never really held his interest. Just girls and sports.”

“Camille,” she says.

“Well, yeah. Camille.”

“Is she coming around?”

“I haven’t spoken to her in weeks. She’s probably too wrapped up in her new boyfriend to bother with us. And believe me, you shouldn’t be intimidated by her. Finn’s very much over her.”

“That’s what he
says
.”

“He is.”

“Where does he live?”

“His dad lives a few blocks south... 82nd and Park, I think.”

“Miss Holland, is this your building?” our driver asks. I’d stopped paying attention to where the cab was headed, enjoying catching up with my roommate.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” I laugh, handing him the cab fare and getting out of the car. “Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving!” I add just before shutting the door.

“People just know you like that?” Katrina asks.

“Yeah.”

“Does that get annoying?”

“Sometimes,” I admit. “Most of the time, everything’s fine. It’s when they start talking to me about personal things or taking pictures of me that it gets to me.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Holland,” Francisco says. I notice the owner of the building working on something behind the counter.

“Hello, Mr. Thomas,” I say formally with a smile. “You might remember my roommate Miss Foster?”

“Of course. Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” Katrina says with a bashful sigh as he shakes her hand.

“Mr. Scott just left for a bit. He said he’d be back within the hour. He took your car.”

“Cool. Thanks, Francisco.”

“You’re welcome, Livvy,” he says softly, walking us to the elevator. I insert my key, checking my phone messages as Katrina fixes her hair in the mirror. I hear music in the hallway when the door opens to our floor. When the chorus begins, Matty starts to sing loudly. My roommate and I peek into the open door to his apartment, catching him sweeping the kitchen floor as his favorite band blares from his entertainment center.

“Keep it down!” I yell, startling him. He drops the broom to the ground.

“I thought you’d be with Jacks and Emi today,” he says after turning the sound down.

“Nope. Katrina’s staying with us tonight and tomorrow.”

“Us? Is he living with you now?”

“When he can,” I tell him. “Dad doesn’t need to know that,” I add as an aside.

My uncle rolls his eyes at me. “You don’t think your parents are on to you?”

“Maybe they are, but we don’t talk about it. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize my time with him, Matty. We were apart for too long. We just want to be together now.”

He smiles at me sweetly and nods his head. “If I’m being too loud–”

“Never,” I assure him. “Just continue on. You missed a spot,” I tell him, pointing to a small piece of paper on the floor. When we leave the apartment, we leave his door open.

“Livvy, how is it that things aren’t weird between Jon and Finn?”

“What, about last spring?” I ask her. She nods. “Because it meant nothing to me or Finn, and because Jon’s a better person than most. Finn’s a hard guy to hate. You know how easy going he is. And he really does respect Jon. He knows that I love him more than anyone.

“Plus, Jon knows that Finn’s a part of my family. He kind of has to accept him if he wants to be a part of this crazy clan.”

“Are you sure it’s okay if we invite him over?”

“I’m sure!” Excited, I text him immediately and ask what he’s up to. As I wait for a response, I show Katrina to her room and give her a few minutes to settle in. Twenty minutes later, Francisco lets me know that Finn is downstairs.

“I’m going to go bring him up,” I tell Katrina, grabbing my keys. Back in the lobby, Finn’s telling my concierge about college.

“Hey, Liv!” he says mid-conversation, walking toward me to give me a hug. “Good to see you. Your hair’s already growing out... and no more blue?”

“No, I thought I’d be normal for a bit. What’d you do to your hand?” I pick up his arm carefully, noticing a bandage.

“I got distracted in practice and fell. It’s just a sprain.” We get back in the elevator and continue talking.

“You’re faking it for the painkillers, aren’t you?” I ask him sarcastically. He laughs, but shakes his head.

“All natural,” he says to me. “I’m trying to change my ways,” he says. “No more pot. No more stolen Vicodin.”

“Wow, look at you. Alcohol?”

“A man needs at least one vice,” he tells me.

“What brought this on?” I ask him as we get out on my floor.

“The girl in your loft,” he says. “She doesn’t like it... and I really like her.” We pause before I open the door. I look him over and push some of his hair off his forehead.

“She really likes you, too. But she’s really nervous.”

“Well, so am I,” he says, reaching past me to open the door. “But it’s a good kind of nervous.” Katrina stands up from the couch but lingers in the living room. She’s not typically so shy and subdued, but I can tell from her bright eyes and the flush of her cheeks that she really is happy to see Finn. He approaches her, giving her a tentative hug before sitting next to her on the couch.

I decide to give them some time to catch up, and retreat to the studio to paint.

“What the hell!?” A half hour later, Jon’s unexpected voice startles me, causing me to jerk the brush carelessly across the canvas. I sigh, frustrated, but put down the brush to see what’s going on.

“What’s wrong?” I call out to him on my way to the living room.

“Hell, man, I, uh,” he says, staring at Finn with an apologetic expression. Finn stands in front of Katrina defensively. They’re both staring, shocked at his outburst.

“What happened?” I ask, trying to assess the situation.

Finn laughs to himself, and I notice lipstick on the corner of his mouth. “Did you think she was Livvy?” he asks Jon.

Everyone looks at me. I turn around to walk back to the studio.

“It was an honest mistake,” Jon says quietly, fast on my heels. I continue to ignore him, finding a scraper and removing some of the excess paint I’d smeared across the top corner. “Talk to me.”

“I was worried this would happen. You don’t trust me?” I whisper, trying not to let my friends hear our conversation.

“I trust you Olivia, I just thought I’d walked in on something...” I glare at him over the canvas, eventually shifting my eyes back down to my palette to mix some paint to correct the marred corner. “Olivia?”

My eyes start to water, so I try to keep my face hidden from him as best as I can. “I have to fix this painting, Jon. Can you give me a few minutes to do that?”

“I want to talk to you. Don’t be mad.”

“Don’t tell me how to be,” I retort, my jaw taut. “I felt bad about that stupid day all summer. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life apologizing for that mistake, Jon. That’s all it was. A mistake. It never should have happened, and it
will not happen again
!” I hadn’t realized I was yelling until I finish my rant and hear the front door close. Jon checks the living room and returns to me.