Olívia

Guillermo
She didn’t complain about me picking her up, but stayed silent until we got into the car.

When she went upstairs to grab her little suitcase, she didn’t let me go with her, which was an excellent decision. I had restrained myself all day from seeing her. All the rationality I had always been known for at work vanished. Hours after leaving her, I still felt Olivia in every part of me.

She looks out the window after closing the door, and that displeases me, so instead of starting the car, I undo her seatbelt and pull her into my lap.

"You shouldn’t have played around like that in front of Julien."

I know she’s right, but I’ve never lived my life based on other people’s judgment, and I’m not starting now. But if I say that, we’ll start arguing, so I choose another approach.

"So you hate me now?" — I ask, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

She looks at me seriously.

"I never said I liked you, to begin with."

Instead of responding, I bite her chin, then gently suck the skin.

"Not even a little?"

"Huh?"

Her restless hips move in my lap.

"You don’t like me even a little?"

"Very little." — She replies, moaning, and I pull her into a kiss.

When we pull back to breathe, she says,

"Maybe I like you just a tiny bit more now." — She says, showing the distance between her thumb and forefinger.

I kiss the outline of her face while feeling the silk of her skin on my fingers.

I hope the feeling stays the same when I tell her what I need to.



"Do you mind if I sit with her in the back seat?"

We had just picked up Valentina at my mom’s house, and after securing her in the car seat, Olivia settles next to her.

Nina is hyper at this hour because she just woke from her afternoon nap. It takes a while after we get home and I give her a bath and dinner for her to start feeling sleepy. Usually, we need a few rounds of playtime first.

"Dadadadadadada…."

"I’m happy to see you too. I missed you so much!"

My daughter claps and lets out a little squeal as if satisfied with Olivia’s answer.

"Did you put on your seatbelt?"

"Yes, we’re ready to go. Ready for the ride, Princess Nina?"

Another round of squeals, little feet kicking, and then I know we’re set.

While driving, I occasionally glance in the rearview mirror. Olivia seems completely absorbed by Nina, and it tugs at my heart. It’s inevitable that I compare the way she treats my daughter to the rejection Valentina suffered from her mother while still in the womb.

"What does she eat at night?"

"A little soup, usually. She’s a good eater."

"You cook for her?"

"No. I have a nutritionist who plans her weekly menu and a cook who prepares her fresh meals daily, but since Nina has been staying at my mom’s house, I haven’t needed their services. Mom already sends her dinner in this pink thermal bag."

"Your mom loves her granddaughter," she says. "She didn’t seem surprised to see me on a weekday, Guillermo. Why?"

"I told her you’d be coming with me."

I think she wants to ask more, but she changes the subject.

"You’re lucky to still have your mom around."

"I am. She’s very strong. It hasn’t been easy dealing with my father’s physical decline."

"I can imagine. It must be horrible to see the person you love suffering."

Her hand rests on my shoulder in a sympathetic squeeze.

Olivia is very sensitive. Despite the first impression she gave of being a little wild, and though a good girl, today I see much deeper. My little rocket is entirely filled with love, and that’s what I’m counting on to make her forgive me.

"Thank you for coming with us today."

In the rearview mirror, I see her waving a teether in front of Nina, but then she stops.

"Why now?"

"Did you want to be here?" — I reply instead of answering directly.

"Guillermo, what’s wrong?"

"Answer me, Olivia."

"Yes, I came because I wanted to. Even thinking that you made a mistake by making it clear to Julien that there’s something between us, I really wanted to come. That might make me seem foolish since we’re just enjoying ourselves, but I like being with you and Nina. I enjoyed being with your family that day."

"Then why did you want to leave?"

"Apart from the fact that you weren’t really talking to me, the other reason is that they’re not my family. I don’t want to get used to being around them."

Her words give me a heavy feeling of unease. She must have felt very alone over the past year. I don’t know what to say. It’s as if everything we’re experiencing is blocked behind the issues we need to clarify.

"You’re welcome to stay with me and Nina."

There’s so much more I want to say, but this isn’t the right moment.



She went upstairs to take a shower.

It was a complicated decision.

I didn’t want her to go to the guest room, but I couldn’t have her with me before we talked.

Nina fell asleep about half an hour ago. It seems that having Olivia here doubled her energy. Even while eating, she didn’t stop for a moment, clapping her hands, dancing when Olivia sang to her, and smiling like the happy little girl she is. While the interaction between them moved me, it was like a iron ball spinning in my stomach.

I don’t know if I’ll tell her everything, but at least I’ll lay the groundwork for the hardest part.

I’m in the kitchen with a bottle of wine on the counter when I hear her steps and turn to look at her.

She’s barefoot. She’s wearing pajama shorts and a tank top. Yesterday she told me she hates sleeping in a lot of clothes, prefers multiple blankets over pajama pants, and that was the only thing that bothered her about the little room she lived in because it was cold at night.

God, the place wasn’t fit to be a storage room, and she told me the only thing that bothered her was the heating. No matter what happens between us from now on, she’ll never sleep in a place like that again.

"Shall we share some wine?"

"I don’t usually drink."

"During the week, neither do I, but I’m warming up some lasagna, so it would go well."

"Alright, but just one glass, or you might take advantage of me."

I laugh. Only she can make me relax. Olivia is like a cool breeze in my overheated world of worries.

I forget the bottle opener and open my arms. She doesn’t hesitate and rises onto her tiptoes to kiss me.

"I want to take advantage of you, with or without wine."

"You won’t hear me complain," she says.

I give her delicious ass a slap, and after another light kiss, I return to the task of serving dinner.

It’s that or we won’t eat tonight.



"You said you wanted to talk about the past. Mine or yours?"

I set the fork down on the plate, instantly losing my appetite.

"Ours."

"Can we start with you?"

That would be the fairest.

"Ask whatever you want to know."

"I don’t want to seem nosy."

"Ask."

"How long were you married?"

I had been expecting that. Until now, she hadn’t mentioned Layla’s name, even though I’d caught her holding the picture frame.

I do a mental calculation because I’m not sure exactly.

"We got married when she found out she was pregnant, about two months after the tests. I stayed married until the day she passed away."

"Oh!"

I understand the reason for her surprise. Layla was a familiar face in celebrity magazines, and news of her dying next to her Japanese boyfriend made headlines worldwide. Our team of lawyers managed to keep my surname out of the gossip, especially since our marriage as a whole was very discreet. We only had a civil ceremony, no party, just a dinner with the family. I think aside from a few close friends and hotel staff, high society didn’t even know I had been married for a while.

"We were about to get divorced," I offer, because I can read what she’s thinking on her face.

"I’m sorry about that."

"About her death?" I ask carefully.

"That too, but I mean Valentina. It’s so sad for a little girl to lose her mother at such a young age."

It’s not the time to tell her that the last thing Layla wanted was to be a mother, so instead I ask,

"Are you done? Can we sit in the living room?"