College will do that for you.”
“I don’t care about that. I don’t care about anything but you.”
“Maybe not now. But one day you will. You’ll have regrets. And I refuse to be a regret for you. I won’t do it. Never gonna happen.” Jesse was nearly twenty, and he’d had his chance to live seventeen. And eighteen, and nineteen. “Those years only come your way once, baby.” Of course he loved Olivia. Loved her enough to give her that, even though he knew it was a huge risk. He remembered what his great grandfather used to say. “Living is risky. But risk keeps you alive.”
Olivia came from wealth and opportunities, the kind he really knew nothing about.
“Who needs college when you have love?” she whispered.
Jesse’s father flashed in his mind. The accident that took his life. The depression his mother had slid into. How her work at the family fishing business kept her occupied though sometimes she didn’t shower for days. Joe Junior worked on the fishing boats that summer. Willow spoon fed their mother who drank coffee, but rarely ate. Where would his mom have been if she hadn’t had her job as the Henderson Fishing Fleet’s bookkeeper? She’d have been alone, with three children all under the age of thirteen, and destitute.
It wasn’t like the garage business was a particularly dangerous one. Still, accidents happened. He knew of a man on the mainland who’d been pinned under a car in a nearby garage. No. Jesse wouldn’t take any chances with his future. “You’re going to college. That’s final.”
“How do I know you’ll wait for me?”
“You see this pier? This is ours. We may not own the deed, but we belong here. Right here hand in hand. As long as this pier stands, I’ll wait for you. If it takes years, I’ll wait. If you fall out of love, I’ll wait. Olivia. You’re my heart. A man can’t live without a heart, can he?”
“And I’m just supposed to go along through my senior year and then college without you?”
He pulled her snug against him. “I didn’t say that. There are colleges in Florida. We can spend every weekend together. Wherever you are, I’ll drive to see you.”
She huffed. “Why are you so adamant about college?” Her mouth tipped into a pout. He’d like to kiss it, but he didn’t.
“I wanted to go to college. Maybe law school. But Mr. Caruthers started talking about me taking over the garage. I mean, it’s a right fit. And an incredible opportunity. What twenty-year-old has his own successful business?”
“Jesse,” she whispered. “Do you have regrets?”
“No,” he lied. “But I will if you don’t finish school.”
Olivia toyed with the sculpting clay her Aunt Sylvia had sent her. After Jesse’s approval of her art, Olivia sent a few of her drawings to her aunt who lived a glamorous life in Paris—of all cities—the city of love. One day, Olivia would take Jesse there. They’d stroll along the Seine holding hands and when the romance of the city overtook them, they’d stop right there and kiss. That was a common sight on the streets of Paris, couples locked in intimate embraces. At least that’s what was portrayed in the many novels she had read. She loved to read but not as much as she loved to draw and paint. She often got so lost in her art, her parents would find it necessary to encourage her to go out and spend time with her friends.
Olivia’s feelings for Jesse had deepened to the point of taking over every part of her. At first, he’d been a sweet friend to her in her moment of need. Ever since the day at the marina when they’d first kissed, she noticed not only his gorgeous smile, but the breadth of his strong shoulders, the indentation at his narrow waist. How his jeans fit so well over his frame. How the muscles of his upper arms bunched when he worked on his car.
All the world seemed right when she was with Jesse. He made her fearless. He made her believe in herself. And to her mind, there was no greater gift on the planet.
She sculpted the clay sent by her aunt Sylvie into two distinct human shapes, then she intertwined those shapes. Two becoming one. An entirely new and glorious thing. It was her and Jesse. It wasn’t a bad attempt for her first try.
Olivia had been careful not to get bits of clay on the Persian rug in the room