I thought you ruined my life,” he said. “I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I was a pathetic mess—just ask my friends. And no matter how many years passed or how many dates I went on—”
This time, Olivia was the one who scowled. The thought of Sammy so much as smiling at another woman made her want to scratch said woman’s eyes out.
“—I never recaptured that spark we had. With you, I felt my emotions to the fullest. Joy, anger, sadness...both the good and the bad. But with everyone else, I was a shadow of the person I could be.” He swallowed hard. “Then I realized, you didn’t ruin my life. You ruined me for other women.”
Olivia’s head snapped up in shock.
Sammy flashed a crooked smile. “So yeah, to answer your question, I want to make it work, too. Otherwise, I’m fucked.”
Her tears blended with her laughter, which seemed appropriate because she was a hot mess. “How romantic.”
“Thanks. I thought so.”
Olivia smiled before growing serious again. “So, are we really doing this? You and me?”
Between Edison and their sex session and this conversation, the night had been a rollercoaster of emotions. Everything seemed so sudden, but when she thought about it, they’d been building toward this moment for a while. From the minute she called Sammy the night her apartment flooded, this—them—was a foregone conclusion. Because she’d known, deep down, that Sammy would show up. He was just that type of guy. She hadn’t anticipated becoming roommates with him, but she had known she was opening the door for him to enter her life again beyond a few secret glances at mutual friends’ get-togethers.
Their attraction had never died. Maybe their love hadn’t, either. It’d just been buried and covered with the disguise of hate.
Now that their past had been laid out and stripped bare, and there were no more secrets between them, maybe they could finally move on.
Whether they’d do so together remained to be seen.
“You and me, part two.” Sammy sealed the promise with a soft kiss. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Eighteen
The rest of the weekend passed without incident (unless one counted all the times Sammy and Olivia snuck off to make out and have sex). Sammy must’ve scared Edison off for good, because his cousin didn’t so much as glance in his or Olivia’s direction after the hot tub incident.
Good. Sammy hadn’t been kidding—he really would’ve punched Edison’s lights out had he said or done anything untoward.
Did he feel bad about his threat considering Edison was the one bankrolling the weekend? A little, but not enough to take back his words. Edison had the money, and Sammy had put up with him for almost thirty years. Hell, he deserved the whole freakin’ chalet for not snapping earlier.
With the specter of Edison’s snide remarks gone and his relationship with Olivia renewed, Sammy had a blast at Lake Tahoe. He went hiking, fishing, mountain biking, paddle boarding—all the things he couldn’t do in the city. Sometimes Olivia joined him; other times she parked herself lakeside with her latest read and baked herself into a golden bronze color. He didn’t mind—those books always got her going, and they were a source of...interesting scenarios she liked to reenact in the bedroom.
He also won the family bet. Final count for how many times Edison uttered the word “partner” over the weekend? Thirty-six.
It wasn’t all fun and games, though. They had more hard conversations about the future, including what they were going to do when Olivia left for Stanford or if her company turned down her request for a transfer. Although Palo Alto wasn’t far, business school was a killer, so she wouldn’t have much free time once classes resumed.
Unlike in college, these conversations focused on reality, not fantasy. That meant they might not always have the answers, but at least they wouldn’t be blindsided when real life crept up on them as it had a habit of doing.
By the time Sammy and Olivia left Lake Tahoe, it was an open secret they were hooking up again, though they hadn’t told anyone they were officially dating yet. Sammy swore he saw his mother’s eyes mist over with happy tears when she waved goodbye.
“Tip: never give her your number,” Sammy said as they entered his house. It felt good to stretch his legs after four hours of sitting in a car—it would’ve been three, but traffic was hellish on Sunday evenings. “She’ll blow up your phone with ‘subtle’ hints about how she’s getting old and how