Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Want a juice?” she asks, veering into one of those health food stores that serve quinoa bowls and wellness shots.
I follow her inside, studying the seventeen options on a chalkboard, all of them with names like Morning Clarity and Green Reset. They all sound horrible.
“Get the one with ginger and turmeric,” Livia says from beside me.
“Sounds disgusting,” I say truthfully.
She smiles up at me. “It’s good for inflammation.”
Well, she is the director of Human Performance and who am I to argue, so I order the one with ginger and turmeric.
“I’ll have the same,” she says.
I lean forward to pay and Livia tries to object to me buying hers but I ignore her and tap my phone on the terminal, the chime indicating the payment was successful. We take our drinks outside and find a table with an umbrella to shield us from the LA sun.
Livia puts the straw in her drink and I note the run has her color up. She looks even more vibrantly beautiful.
I take a drink of the juice and… it’s actually good, but I don’t tell her that.
“What are you going to do about Grant?” I ask.
She looks at the table for a moment. “I don’t know yet.”
“Has this happened before? Him showing up out of the blue like that?”
“No.” She wraps both hands around her cup. “It’s been calls and texts and a card that showed up at my apartment, which I still don’t know how he got that address. But showing up in person…” She shakes her head. “That’s new.”
“Then it’s escalating.”
“Maybe.” She says it like she’s hoping it isn’t true. “Or maybe it was a onetime thing. He was drunk. He made a bad decision.”
“He made a bad decision the night he put his hands on you the first time.” I reply evenly. “Drunk just makes it easier.”
She looks at me, and I know I’m not telling her anything she didn’t already know.
“You could get an order of protection,” I say.
“Based on what? He grabbed my arm on a sidewalk.” She shakes her head. “That’s not enough and you know it. I’d have to document a pattern, get a lawyer involved, and even then—”
“Talk to Patrick.”
The shift in her face is immediate. “No.”
“He has resources, Livia. People who can—”
“No,” she says again, quiet and final. “He’s my boss. I’m not bringing my personal problems to my boss barely a month into the job. I’m not that person.”
I look at her. “You’d rather handle it alone.”
“I’d rather it go away on its own. If I ignore him, he’ll get the message.”
“And if it doesn’t go away?” For some reason, it’s tearing me up, the thought this guy could come after her again.
She doesn’t answer. She takes a long drink of her juice and looks out at the LA street, so I let it go.
For now.
The silence extends as we watch people walking by. It’s weirdly comfortable and I’m not sure what to make of it. The morning sex, the run, the juice… it all feels unreasonably normal.
“Where’s the guilt?” I ask abruptly.
She frowns at me in confusion. “What do I have to feel guilty about? Breaking up with Grant?”
“No, not him,” I say with an impatient wave. “Where’s the guilt over us sleeping together?”
Her frown deepens and she traces the condensation on her cup with one finger. “I have it. It’s pushed down low.” She taps her sternum once. “I’m not sure what to do with it yet so I’m leaving it alone currently.”
“Reasonable approach.”
The corner of her mouth moves. “So, what is this?” She gestures between us.
She doesn’t appear to be anxious over the question, merely curious.
I think about it for a second. “It’s fun.” I hold her gaze. “Does it have to be more than that?”
I watch as she mulls it over before she finally says, “No, not really.” Her eyes lock onto mine and she smiles. “That helps. I can compartmentalize fun. I can work with you and keep the rest of it in a separate box.”
“So that alleviates the guilt?” I ask.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But we’re discreet about this, okay? Nobody knows. Especially nobody on this team.”
“Agreed.”
“And I still get my third session when we’re back in Portland.” She holds up a finger. “That’s nonnegotiable. A deal is a deal.”
“I know.”
“I’m serious, Locke.”
“I said I know.”
She studies me, perhaps gauging the truth in my tone. Finally, she picks up her cup and leans back in her chair.
“This juice is really good,” she says.
“Yeah,” I admit with a small smile. “It is.”
We people watch for a bit more in companionable silence. I consider the separate box she just described, which seems to have alleviated the guilt. It still doesn’t negate the fact that Livia Cross is a very specific problem, one I have apparently decided to stop trying to solve.
Chapter 20
Livia
The turf is dry for once. It’s the first thing I notice when I push through the exterior door of the facility onto the outdoor performance zone. I hike my equipment bag higher onto my shoulder, grateful for the only mildly chilly day. Portland weather can fluctuate drastically in December, but today the sky has decided to cooperate.