I shuddered. I couldn’t breathe.
O murmured, “You’ll come eat with us...won’t you, Gil?”
There was that word again.
Once upon a time, I’d fought against such a promise. I’d told her there could never be an us because I was hiding so many goddamn things.
Now that word belonged to them, not me.
Shit.
Olive hugged me from the other side, putting me in the centre of an affection sandwich. I couldn’t stand much more before I broke, so I untangled myself and said the simplest thing. The thing guaranteed to avoid an argument but also destined to destroy me. “Sure. Dinner would be nice.”
And it would be.
Dinner out in the real world with my child and friends would be better than nice.
I just had to rein in my heart and force it to get the memo that O was off-limits.
“Great.” O smiled.
My nervous system disagreed as O strolled to the car. Returned to Justin. Left me.
I drank in the way she moved. The dancer’s grace that still ran in her blood. The kindness that was visible around her, a softness that made her ever more stunning.
I fell deeper into love with her when I should’ve been schooling myself into platonic boundaries.
Justin opened the door for Olive as she hopped in the back. O went to sit in the back with her but I leaped into action and ripped open the front door. “Please. I’ll take the back.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. It’ll be fun hanging with, what did Justin call her? The pipsqueak?”
Olive piped up from inside the car. “I’m not a pipsqueak anymore. I grew.”
O chuckled and slipped into the car. “She has many nicknames these days. Pest being a favourite one.”
“You’re the pest.” Olive stuck out her tongue. “The best pest.”
O laughed again and I hid my gratefulness of their care and the agony of what I’d missed out on. Falling into the car, I forced a grin at my daughter. “I can see pest suiting you.”
“You know nothing.” She arched her chin, flicking her hair smugly.
I know some things, little spinach.
I know that I love you.
And O.
And you’ve both moved on.
And I know I’ll do whatever it takes to not jeopardize the happiness you’ve found.
Justin turned the car on and switched into gear. “All in? Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
______________________________
Olin
HOW COULD DOING something as mundane as going to a restaurant be equally strenuous and enjoyable?
I couldn’t stop looking at Gil.
Couldn’t stop pinching myself that he was out and free and back.
Nineteen months served.
An eternity for all of us.
Yet...it felt like yesterday that he’d painted me and we’d slept together and I’d vowed that I’d never turn my back on him.
Each time I’d visited him with Olive, I’d wanted to tell him that I would wait. That we weren’t over. That I’d forgiven him and accepted that whatever madness we shared was worth fighting for.
That I finally knew I belonged to him, with him, and always had.
I wouldn’t give that up.
For anything.
But each visit, I kept my secret.
Until one day, I no longer knew if he even wanted me in that way anymore. He’d given me no sign that he hungered for me. His smiles were warm but reserved. His animation and energy given to Olive while I was just his daughter’s chaperone.
I appreciated why he’d pulled away.
In his mind, we’d said goodbye that night in my apartment.
And I’d moved in with Justin.
“What did they feed you in jail?” Olive asked, sucking on the paper straw in her raspberry coke.
Gil raked a hand through his hair, looking ruggedly handsome. His messy dark locks were just as wild. His eyes just as piercing. He ought to have looked older thanks to almost two years in prison, yet whatever demons had hounded him had gone.
He no longer looked wary of the world or on guard to everyone around him.
He looked like the boy I’d fallen in love with.
“Bland, boring things mainly.” He twisted in his chair, facing his adorable daughter. “They need a proper chef.”
“I can cook okay.” Olive stirred her straw. “O taught me how to bake banana muffins the other day.”
“You did?” Gil’s gaze caught mine.
My heart fluttered.
“I can’t take the credit. The cookbook did all the work. We just followed the recipe.”
“They were pretty tasty, though,” Justin said, sipping an ice-cold pint. “Ten out of ten.”
“Yeah, and you ate them all.” Olive pretended to frown. “You didn’t leave any for me.”
“You’re forgetting you ate three, you glutton. I only had two.”
“Oh yeah? I think you should go back to school and learn how to count.” Olive giggled.
“I’m an accountant, little pest. I know how to count. And you had three.” Justin winked at Gil. “That’s why she’s grown so much. She’s a piggy.”
Gil laughed, sounding strained, almost as if he wished like hell he’d had the stupid volley match with Olive.
I worried we’d overstepped. Feared Gil would think we’d replaced him just because we bantered a lot.
In the months we’d all lived together, I’d come to love Olive to the point of disaster. If her father held my soul, she held my heart undoubtedly. I was unbelievably happy Gil was back, but if I was honest, I was also terrified.
Terrified of losing Olive.
Of losing the family Justin, she, and I had created.
I hadn’t been lonely with them.
I hadn’t been lost.
Gil would always be a missing piece of me but I’d found enough to be happy. That was another reason I hadn’t needed to travel. I’d found contentment in the very same city where all my dreams had shattered.
“I’ll bake you some, Dad.” Olive touched Gil’s forearm on the table. “And you can have all of them. Justin gets none.”
“Meanie.” Justin wiped a fake tear from his cheek. “I get it. Now your dad’s back, I’m forgotten.” He laughed, but it held the same thread of fear I felt.
We both struggled.
Both ecstatic that Gil was home.
Both afraid that Gil was home.
Olive blew a kiss to Justin across the table. “I won’t forget about you. Ever.”
“Ah, shucks.” Justin smiled, deeply genuine and relieved. “I’m going to hold you to that. I expect weekly hangouts. And daily updates.”
“Wait...are-are you kicking me out?” Olive squeaked.
Justin glanced at me, panic in his eyes. “Of course not. I just figured with your dad back you’d want to—”
“Olive wanted to check with you guys first,” Gil cut in. “I have my own place. I’m earning an income.” He swallowed hard, taking a sip of his lemonade and avoiding my stare.
His abhorrence for alcohol hadn’t changed in prison then. He still hated liquor. I doubted I’d ever catch him drunk again.
Gil rushed, “But I don’t expect Olive to move out if you’re not comfortable with that. If you guys are happy, then...I’m happy for her to keep living with you.”
Everything in my chest ached.
He was once again willing to sacrifice the most important person in his world. He’d sacrificed me. He’d sacrificed Olive. He did it out of love, but I worried Olive might take it as if he didn’t want her enough to fight for her.
Justin leaned forward, the green velvet bench seat we shared creaking under his weight. He looked seriously at Olive, asking her as an adult for her decision. “What do you want, Olive Oyl? You have three grown-ups wrapped around your little finger, so you get to choose.”
She bit her lip, her gaze dancing from Gil to me t
o Justin and back again.
The ancient pub where we sat hugged us with smoke and stale beer. The low beams and dark walls cocooned us, making it seem like it was midnight and not late afternoon.
This was one of the few places still open and serving food at three-thirty in the afternoon. And in a way, it was fitting. A pub this old held so many secrets. Lives had changed, and friendships were tested, all hidden within its protection.
Just like now.
“Um...” Olive’s eyes widened, feeling the pressure.
She loved Justin.
She loved me.
Those two facts I knew without a doubt.
But she would never love anyone as much as she loved her father, and that was exactly how it should be.
“It’s okay, Olive. You don’t need to rush. And you don’t need to decide right away. Everything will work out, you’ll see.” I nodded in encouragement. “We’re all family. Always will be.”
Gil sucked in a breath.
Olive relaxed a little.
Justin picked up his beer and held it out for a toast. “To family.”
Gil clinked his lemonade, Olive tapped her raspberry coke, and I raised my wine glass. “Family.”
We all drank, sharing a tentative smile, all of us wondering what the future held.
Justin broke the tension by asking Gil, “So, you’ve been out for a few weeks, got your business back on track, and found a place. What else have you been up to?”
Gil slouched in his chair, comfortable with the easier topic. “I started my community service two weeks ago. I go every other day for a few hours.”
“Oh yeah? What do they have you doing?”
“Last week, I helped out at a cattery. The week before that I helped move heavy furniture around a Salvation Army store. I think next week I’ll be on food prep somewhere downtown at a shelter.”
“Enjoying it?”
Gil nodded. “Actually, yeah. Seeing things I wouldn’t necessarily see has been great for creative inspiration. It sucks to witness the hardships of others, but watching the other side of society has been beneficial. It’s been almost healing to paint their sadness.”
“I get that.” Justin swigged back his beer. “Bet it’s nice to be painting again. And not teaching untalented convicts.”
He smiled. “It was actually kind of rewarding teaching. A lot of inmates found it calming. Teaching the class was probably a reason I was allowed out so early on good behaviour. Rehabilitation comes in many forms.”
Gil’s gaze caught mine, trapping me in the green icy depths like only he could. “It didn’t escape me that I actually started to enjoy it, after despising teachers all my life. Ironic that I found satisfaction in being the one thing I hated.”
Hated one teacher in particular.
Jane Tallup who did her best to ruin him.
I’d stalked her online.
I’d found her still teaching English in Japan. A few months after Gil’s imprisonment, I’d requested local authorities to file an arrest for her if she ever came back to England. To get justice for what she did to Gil.
Maybe one day I’d tell him, but not now.
Not when the past had been dealt with and the future beckoned bright.
God, I’d missed him.
I wanted to talk to him, but I didn’t know what to say. How to say things. How he’d take them.
Almost as if he sensed my reluctance to share, Gil asked, “O...you still working at that place...Status?”
“Status Enterprises.” I shook my head. “No. I quit not long after you were—”
“Incarcerated. I get it.” His tone held no malice or meanness, but he couldn’t hide the ache of loneliness. “Where do you work now then?”
I swallowed a mouthful of white wine. “Well, after giving up my lease and moving in with Justin and Olive...I still planned on travelling. I just couldn’t stand going back to that office though. So...Justin had an opening for a personal assistant and...offered it to me.”
Gil coughed. “You live and work together?”
Justin winced. “Yeah, O’s become rather fundamental to our office. She basically runs my life and the other partner’s.”
“That’s great.” Gil looked as if he’d lost something all over again. “Sounds like a perfect fit.”
I rubbed at the lacerating lightning inside my chest. I felt guilty all over again. Upset for upsetting Gil. Confused as to why he looked at me as if he wanted to stab himself through the heart.
He was the one who acted as if we were over.
He was the one who told Justin he could be with me—just like high-school.
Justin hadn’t wanted to tell me what’d happened on the phone a fortnight or so into Gil’s sentence. He’d come home steely-eyed and tense, hiding the truth until I kept bugging him for answers.
I’d been pissed off that Gil thought I would jump into Justin’s bed the moment he was gone. Furious that he’d given his ‘permission’.
What happened between Justin and I was our business and ours alone.
Silence became strained, growing tighter as a waitress came over with big bowls of fries, onion rings, and a basket of fish bites.
Olive stuck her hand into the onion rings straight away, oblivious to the stress between adults. “Yum.”
This is stupid.
I wouldn’t let tension ruin the celebration of having Gil back.
Reaching over the table, I placed my hand on Gil’s, squeezing the heat and strength of him. “We missed you so much.”
I.
I missed you.
He flinched but turned his hand up so we linked fingers. “I missed you guys too.”
You.
I missed you.
Olive put her head on his shoulder. “But we never have to be apart again so that’s the good thing.”
Gil tugged his hand from mine.
I couldn’t breathe through the pain still alive between us.
He grabbed a fry and grinned as wide as he could. “Exactly. We’ll be together. Always.”
Justin chewed a fish bite. “And that brings us back to living arrangements.” He held up his hand when I went to remind him that we didn’t need to rush, adding, “Decisions don’t need to be made now. But...if Gil is okay with it. How about we head over to his place, check it out, and go from there.” He smiled at Olive. “What do you say?”
Olive tapped her fingers against her mouth, thinking deeply. “Sure. That sounds good.” She looked at Gil. “That okay, Dad? Can we go see your place?”
Gil nodded quickly. “Of course, that’s okay. More than okay.”
“Great.” Justin wiped salt off his fingers. “It’s a plan.”
Gil went still, his gaze shifting from Justin to me, pinning us to the velvet bench. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not going to demand or expect anything. Olive is yours as much as mine. I’m happy if you want to keep her, and I’ll see her when you’re free. Or vice versa.”
The thought of not seeing Olive every day. Of not making pancakes with her or experimenting with other cooking with her. Of not watching her laugh and scream at the TV with Justin when he watched football. We didn’t own Olive. We hadn’t created her. But we had grown into something that meant a great deal to all of us.
“Of course.” I nodded. “We’re together now. That means all of us.”
Us.
That pesky, damning word.
Gil’s green stare shot right into my heart. “I love you.” His cheeks pinked as he hugged his daughter and glanced at Justin. “All of you. We’re family.”
Those three little words wouldn’t stop colliding in my chest.
I love you.
I
love
you.
I love you too.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
______________________________
Olin
“WOW, THIS IS super cool.” Olive drifted forward, inspecting Gil’s new apartment.
Tiny in size but c
osy.
Newer than my old apartment, the walls were a fresh white and the floors bamboo planks.
Gil’s paints rested in a big box on the dining room table, reminding me that he still had a bunch of belongings in storage at Justin’s.
The kitchen was modern with nice pendant lights, the bathroom with a shower over the bath, and two bedrooms: one with a queen bed, black sheets, and Gil’s signature scent of citrus and paint, and a second with a king single, rainbow bedspread, and a huge stuffed owl waiting in a rattan chair by the wardrobe.
I moved toward the quaint lounge.
Olive would be very happy here. Happier than anywhere because she’d be with her father. Justin and I had been a temporary fix. We’d been there to nurse her nightmares and help her feel safe again, but there’d always been something missing, something we could never be.
“Did you want to stay the night here, Olive?” I asked softly. “We can go back to Justin’s and pack a bag if you want?”
Olive paused, yet another huge decision for such a young girl to make. I hated putting her on the spot and I hated that all our lives would have to change from this point on, but I also refused to keep daughter and father away from each other.
“It’s the weekend tomorrow.” She frowned. “I have dance practice.”
Gil’s head snapped up. “You dance?”
Olive nodded proudly. “O showed me a few moves when we stayed with her before you went to prison, remember? I was too busy with school to learn more, but last month she taught me a few new steps. But now I go to a fancy place because she said I have talent.”
Gil looked at me, disbelief and awe in his gaze. “Are you dancing again?”
I blushed, hoping he didn’t mind that I’d added an afterschool activity to Olive’s life. I would continue paying for the lessons. Now I worked for Justin, I’d been able to squirrel money away. He overpaid me really but I was good at my job and worked hard.
We both did.
It was probably rare that we could live together, raise a child that wasn’t ours, and work together without trying to kill each other.
Guilt squeezed me again, but I kept pushing it away. I had nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing.
The Living Canvas Page 31
