The Book of Someday

by Dianne Dixon

  Suddenly, in the midst of Livvi’s joy, there’s a faint prickle of unease. The feeling of being edged toward a place she doesn’t want to go back to.

  “I don’t like that name, Olivia,” she says. “No one calls me by it anymore.”

  Andrew is trailing kisses across Livvi’s belly. With each kiss, he’s murmuring, “Olivia.” “Olivia.” “Olivia.” When he brings his mouth close to Livvi’s, he’s whispering: “Olivia is a glorious name. I’ll never stop saying it.”

  While Andrew is nestling her into the cloud-soft pillows, a microscopic sadness is flickering through Livvi. The battle of Olivia has been lost.

  But as Andrew is enticing her. Stroking her. Lowering his weight onto her—entering her. It seems like such a small defeat.

  Insignificant. Compared to what she is being given.

  Andrew—moving deeper and deeper into Livvi—is touching her in ways, and in places, that are sending a series of magnificent shudders through her body. A spectacular, visceral current of sensation.

  Powerful pulses. From an exquisitely pleasurable earthquake.

  Rippling uncontrolled rushes of pure, carnal, release.

  This is Livvi’s first orgasm.

  And it’s Andrew who is here—inside her.

  ***

  Livvi’s night at the St. Regis in New York is followed by a morning flight home to California. The reassuring weight of Andrew’s shoulder, which has been resting against Livvi’s since takeoff, suddenly isn’t there anymore. The plane has just touched down in Los Angeles. Andrew has leaned away to check his phone.

  This has sparked a memory, a twinge in Livvi. “Why did you leave without saying a word?” she’s asking. “Why did you walk out on me?”

  Andrew looks baffled. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about when we met. The first time I saw you. When you took me away to the butler’s pantry and the caviar.”

  Andrew rests his head against his seat back. His tone is conversational, relaxed. “Something came up…a text I needed to take care of. You had to know I wasn’t gone for good.”

  “But I didn’t know.” Livvi is worrying—just a little—that their new connection might turn out to be as tenuous, and as easily broken, as it was on that first night.

  But Andrew is giving her a sweet grin, assuring her: “This is crazy. You know I told you to wait, I said it right when I was going through the door.”

  “Then why didn’t I hear you?” Livvi asks.

  “The noise from the party must’ve been drowning me out.”

  Livvi is in the window seat: Andrew, sitting beside her. He has loosened his seat belt, and hers—and is swinging the armrest up.

  He’s turning toward Livvi. Leaning across her, shielding her from view—and kissing her. His kiss is slow and deep. All-encompassing. Erasing everything but the ferocious attraction they have for each other.

  And just as it did on that first night, Livvi’s hand is coming to rest on the cool smoothness of Andrew’s shirtfront. Beneath the coolness, she can feel the heat of his skin—the heat of his desire.

  Andrew is caressing the outline of Livvi’s leg, just above her knee. His fingertips are resting on the fabric of her skirt, traveling steadily upward in lazy, insinuating circles. The movement is so subtle, and blatantly sexual, that it’s sending shock waves through Livvi—arching her spine, parting her lips, and leaving her eyes only barely open.

  Andrew’s breath is warm and urgent on Livvi’s cheek. While his hand is purposefully gliding over the rise of her hip.

  The teasing circles being made by Andrew’s fingertips are now lingering at the waistband of Livvi’s skirt. Exploring the side button and the zipper. Tempting her. Exciting her. Making her shift and squirm. Building a lust in her that is beyond her control. A need that’s making Livvi frantic—for Andrew to peel her skirt away, and give her the feel of his skin on hers.

  He is setting a fire in every fiber in Livvi’s body.

  With the deliberate, leisurely movements of his hand Andrew is generating a wantonness in Livvi. A blind, animal urge to have him strip her, and take her. Here. Now. In the middle of this crowded plane.

  Andrew’s voice is low, intensely intimate, as he’s telling Livvi: “That night in the butler’s pantry, you were a stranger. Now you’re the woman who has given me the most incredible twenty-four hours of my life.”

  While he’s saying this, his hand is continuing to move in those seductive, sensuous circles. The fever it’s creating—the need for him, the rampant desire in Livvi—is becoming unbearable. She’s on the brink of lifting out of her seat—moaning, and crying out.

  And in this same instant Andrew is slipping his hand beneath the fabric of Livvi’s blouse, and the satin of her bra. Andrew is stroking her breast. In a quick, masterful way that is bringing her an ecstatic relief.

  ***

  It is as if in the days and weeks following their return from New York, Andrew has put Livvi at the center of his universe.

  He is opening the world to her. Introducing Livvi to a flow of miracles and wonders—wonders that exist solely because Andrew exists.

  A little more than two months into her relationship with Andrew, Livvi is rising into air that is crystal-clear—floating toward a glow of rose-colored light. From time to time, just above her head, there are bright bursts of flame and an exhilarating rumble of noise. A roar. As if she’s being lifted away from the earth on the wings of a dragon.

  Livvi is looking up, gazing into the vault of a towering dome patterned in crayon yellow and neon green, and shimmering like silk.

  She is in New Mexico. With Andrew’s arms wrapped around her waist. Ascending into the dawn sky in a hot-air balloon. Believing that for as long as she lives, there will never again be a moment as breathtaking as this one.

  ***

  And then on that same day, just before midnight, Andrew is giving Livvi the astonishing thrill of rushing along an empty desert road in a black Porsche convertible, with the top down, under an ocean of glittering stars.

  Andrew has one hand on the wheel of the speeding car and the other firmly on Livvi’s back. She’s standing tall—braced against the glove compartment, clutching the rim of the windshield. The night wind is racing across her face. Whipping through her hair. Whirling the fabric of her dress. Sailing it up and away from her legs, like the flying skirts of a dervish.

  And now Andrew’s hand is moving from her back and sliding under the lace edge of her underwear. His touch, on this hot night, is remarkably cool. Light and inviting. Its upward slide deft and swift.

  Then when Andrew has found the velvety harbor that is his goal, he becomes watchful. Careful. Every movement being timed, perfectly, to Livvi’s pace.

  Livvi glances down and catches the briefest glimpse of Andrew’s expression. A look of supreme satisfaction. As if he is taking great pleasure in the pleasure he’s so expertly giving.

  With one hand firmly on the steering wheel of the speeding car and the other nimbly guiding Livvi, Andrew is driving her toward a rapturous euphoria. A place where Livvi is wild and free. He’s creating a shout in her. That’s spontaneous. Uncivilized. A shout of ecstasy.

  ***

  In the motel room, later, when both of them are sleepy and sated with sex, Andrew is spooned against Livvi’s back.

  As she’s lying on her side, with her knees bent, she’s remembering that she used to lie curled in this same position when she was a frightened little girl who believed in fairy tales. When she used to slide her arm under the crook of her knees and pretend she was being carried to safety by one of the knights in her storybooks. Someone tall and strong. A man with the power to tame dragons—and create magic.

  And while Andrew is sleepily kissing the back of her neck, Livvi is asking him: “Out there, in the dark. How fast did we go?”

  “You don’t want to know…”

  His voice has trailed off; he’s yawning.

  Livvi, too, is drifting into sleep.<
br />
  “If you hadn’t talked me into it,” she murmurs, “I’d never have done it. I was scared.”

  “I like how wild it made you.” Andrew’s murmur is husky, full of innuendo.

  The sound of it rouses Livvi; her eyes flutter open, briefly. Then she wills herself back into sleep. Into a reverie where she’s again hurtling toward the thrill of the open road and the burn of the night wind.

  And Livvi is beginning to smile.

  The discovery that she has an appetite for wildness, for freedom, is coming as a surprisingly delightful revelation.

  ***

  In each new place, with each new pleasure that Andrew brings, Livvi is continuing to encounter revelations and surprises.

  She’s also encountering unexpected information. About Andrew. About who he was, and who he is.

  The initial surprise comes after they’ve been together for a little over three months. When Livvi and Andrew are on a trip to Canada, to Vancouver Island, where they’re celebrating Livvi’s birthday. She and Andrew are on a rented sailboat, at sunset. The air is brisk and chilly, and the smell of the sea is salty clean. Both Livvi and Andrew are in jeans and cable-knit sweaters. Livvi’s birthday present from Andrew is the diamond bracelet on her wrist—and for Livvi, almost as dazzling as the gift is the wonderfully playful way in which Andrew presented it.

  “I love how you gave this to me,” she’s telling him.

  It isn’t clear whether or not Andrew is hearing what Livvi’s saying; he’s struggling to adjust a sail that has come loose.

  While she’s watching him bring the sail under control, she’s letting her thoughts wander, letting them take her back to the way the day began…She’s waking up to a boisterous rendition of “Happy Birthday” being sung by a trio of male voices. At first she’s confused, startled. Then all at once she’s laughing. Because it’s Andrew and a pair of room service waiters who are serenading her. One of the waiters is standing beside a breakfast cart laden with chocolate croissants and cold champagne; the other is presenting her with an enormous stuffed animal. A Paddington Bear in a whimsical red hat and matching boots and a blue pea coat.

  Andrew has delivered another miracle, another wonder. He has made all of Livvi’s childhood birthday dreams come true in this one, singularly lovely moment.

  She’s thrilled. Holding on to the bear. Crying and laughing. While Andrew is kissing her and explaining that she hasn’t officially gotten her present yet—she needs to read the tag dangling from one of the bear’s coat buttons.

  The first part of the information on the tag is the preprinted message that comes with all Paddingtons, “Please look after this bear.” But handwritten below that message, in Andrew’s flowing script, is a note that says, “And kindly check his pockets for Birthday Valuables.”

  In the bear’s pocket Livvi is discovering a diamond bracelet, twinkling like a circle of stars. A gift far beyond her imagination, or expectation. A gift that’s moving her to tears as she’s telling Andrew, “I haven’t ever had anything this beautiful. Not in my entire life…”

  And now, all these hours later, as the sun is setting, and Andrew is bringing the sailboat in toward the shore, Livvi’s telling him: “It’s like you know how to make magic. Like you have command of a whole other world.”

  Livvi is stretched out on the deck, looking up at Andrew, marveling at him. “You even know how to sail a boat. Amazing.”

  “Yeah,” he laughs. “It puts me right up there with Popeye and Cap’n Crunch.”

  Livvi absentmindedly pulls their open picnic basket toward her. It was Andrew who packed it. Andrew who chose the French champagne. The assortment of artisan cheeses. The Graber olives. The fresh-baked baguette with the perfectly crisped crust. The hothouse melon and the finely marbled prosciutto. The little apple tarts, each one flawless and glistening, like a jewel.

  Livvi has never seen or eaten food like this. And she has never before been out on the ocean. Never experienced the splendor of rolling waves, or the exciting rattle and snap of sails that are towering and periwinkle blue. She has never drifted homeward, lazy and content, beneath evening clouds rimmed in gold by the setting sun.

  Sailing on this boat has been like going to heaven—and it is Andrew who has taken Livvi there.

  They are entering the harbor now. The Empress, the grand waterfront hotel where they’re staying, is coming into view. And Livvi is lost in thought, not really expecting an answer as she asks: “Have you ever, ever, been in such a spectacular place…?”

  “Actually I have,” Andrew says. “I was here about twenty years ago. On my honeymoon.”

  And just like that, it’s as if the deck of the boat is dropping into the sea.

  Livvi is thunderstruck. “You were married?”

  Andrew is apologetic. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” He quickly sets out the fenders and maneuvers the boat into the slip at the dock. “It was no big deal. Honestly. She was my college sweetheart. The whole thing lasted less than six months.”

  “What was she like? Where did she go?” Livvi’s mind is swimming with questions.

  Andrew’s attention is on mooring the boat. “She was funny and cute. And I don’t know where she went. It was nothing. Two kids who ran off to have a good time and woke up married. It happened a lifetime ago.”

  Now he’s kneeling beside Livvi, taking her face in his hands, assuring her: “That girl is somebody I don’t even think about anymore. And I doubt she ever thinks about me.”

  Livvi is looking into his eyes. Those compelling, steel-gray eyes that amaze her and make her weak, every time she sees them. And in this moment their gaze is fully and solely on her.

  As Andrew is saying: “It was a blip on the radar. It was nothing.”

  ***

  Four weeks after their return from Canada, Livvi is with Andrew on a business trip to Chicago. One of his public relations clients, a radically creative clothing designer, is showing a new collection.

  Livvi and Andrew are at the side of the runway, in front-row seats. Andrew with his legs stretched out and casually crossed at the ankles. Livvi sitting up straight, leaning forward—enthralled by the extravaganza unfolding around her.

  The exhibit hall is cavernous. There are speakers everywhere, the size of jet engines. The pulsing techno-beat of the music feels as if it’s being pumped through Livvi’s veins. Rainbow ribbons of light are arcing and dancing all around her, making it seem like the entire room is a spinning wheel of color.

  And on the runway—from one end of it to the other—are designs that are audacious and exotic. Clothes so exciting they’re making Livvi gasp.

  Without taking her eyes off the spectacular show parading down the runway, she’s leaning close to Andrew—preparing to tell him how much she loves him and how wonderful it is to have him in her life. At this same instant, the spotlight is focusing on a gorgeous, dark-haired young model who’s strutting past Livvi with an exaggerated, high-stepping gait. And Andrew is murmuring: “Jesus…that girl looks exactly like Katherine.”

  Something in Andrew’s tone makes Livvi’s heart jump.

  And miss a beat.

  ***

  When the show is over, when Livvi and Andrew are on the sidewalk in a pouring rain, Andrew is hailing a cab. While Livvi is mentally, and emotionally, still inside the exhibit hall…where a girl is marching along the runway with eyes that are empty and glittering, like they’re made of glass, and Andrew is murmuring, “Jesus…she looks exactly like Katherine.”

  Then Livvi is suddenly back in the rain-soaked present and the world is in a clear, hyper-sharp focus. She is feeling, beneath the soles of her shoes, each dimple and bump in the sidewalk. She’s hearing, separate and distinct, every drop of rain. Every sound on the street. Every car horn. Every click of the changing traffic lights.

  And she’s scared.

  She’s gripping Andrew’s upraised arm, yanking it down. Causing the cab he was hailing to swerve away and move back into traffic.

&nbs
p; Over the noise of the car horns and the rain, Livvi is shouting: “Who’s Katherine?”

  And Andrew is shouting back. “She was somebody I loved. And she’s gone.”

  His face is wet with rain. His voice ragged with emotion.

  “Tell me about her. I want to know,” Livvi says.

  “I can’t. It’s too hard.”

  “I don’t want there to be things about you I don’t know, Andrew. It scares me too much. It makes me feel too alone.”

  And in the face of Livvi’s distress, Andrew seems to melt—taking Livvi in his arms, bringing her close. “It wasn’t a love affair,” he tells her. “It was something different…but it wasn’t anything for you to be afraid of. I swear.”

  “Then—please—tell me.”

  “It’s hard for me to talk about. But I will. Someday. I promise.”

  Now Andrew has stepped away from Livvi and is holding her at arm’s length. “I need you to listen to me, to believe me. You have nothing to be afraid of. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Andrew’s eyes are not leaving Livvi’s. His voice is quiet, hushed with emotion. “I love you.”

  Andrew has never before said I love you to Livvi.

  Hearing it has left her dazed.

  Andrew seems as if he doesn’t know what to say next. He’s wiping at his eyes. Livvi can’t tell if it’s the rain, or tears, that he’s trying to be rid of.

  He’s reaching for her, pulling her back toward him. Gripping her so tightly that even through the buffer of his raincoat and jacket she can feel that he’s cold—and trembling like a child. In the same way Olivia used to tremble, in the bleak cold of Santa Ynez. Needing someone, anyone, to put their arms around her and hold her close.

  From the minute of his arrival in the bookstore in upstate New York, Andrew has lavished Livvi with gifts—with delight and pleasure and untold joy. And in this moment, her only thought, her only desire, is to give him the gift of comfort and consolation. The priceless gift that Olivia never received.

  ***

  After several weeks of uninterrupted happiness, Livvi is waking up in a hotel room early on an Easter Sunday morning. She’s in San Francisco, where she has been invited to do a book signing.