Page 57 of Trust

“What were you two talking about?” Margret asked. “The way your heads were tilted suggests it was something intriguing,”

“The feeling,” Olivia said flatly.

“Oh,” Grams replied, collapsing into a chair. “Which one? Hitomebore?”

“Not love at first sight, Grams. Koi No Yokan.”

“What are you two talking about?” Bea asked.

“Koi No Yokan is a Japanese phrase that roughly translates into a premonition of love,” Margret answered.

Olivia stroked Killer’s soft fur. “It’s that feeling you get when you meet someone and intuitively know you could fall in love with them. You don’t right now, but you could.” Which is exactly how she’d describe the sensation that washed over her when she stood on Zane’s doorstep. Which wasn’t great news all around, given both of their penchants to take two steps back for every one they took forward.

“So very dangerous,” Margret murmured.

Olivia took her grandmother’s hand. “And who was it that made you feel that way?”

Margret lifted her strand of pearls and twisted them into a knot. “A man who was by all accounts unremarkable. But so very extraordinary in the way he made me feel.” She lifted her gaze. “The way he reached for my hand and linked our fingers meant more to me than a hundred more significant gestures. We only spent a month in one another’s company, but my goodness, it felt like a lifetime.” She let out a little laugh. “It taught me never to underestimate the power of the wrong man. Society, your family, and even your own notions about what you deserve can steer you wrong. Pay attention, girls, to the people that light your soul on fire. Those are the ones you want to hold onto.”

Olivia petted the dog. “Do I have to?”

Margret gave both women a stern look. “Absolutely! Whenever you hold back the truth, you make fear more important than love.”

“Which is allegedly not a good idea,” Bea remarked. “Despite recent experiences suggesting otherwise.”

“Isn’t that the darn truth,” Oliva sighed. “Does this mean I have to dig into some previously undiscovered well of bravery and run at Zane with my hair on fire?”

“A less dramatic approach could also suffice,” Margret answered with an arched eyebrow.

Olivia looked out the window and caught sight of Zane talking with Allen and his daughter Zelda. “Guess it’s time to go all in.”

“Indeed,” Grams said quietly. “And if you could take Killer when you do, that would be lovely.”

“Why not?” she replied, looking down at the dog. “What’s one more witness to my impending conflagration?”

FIFTEEN

It was midweek, and Zane was ready to unveil his latest effort despite the unfamiliar unease filling his chest. He’d been around the world more than once, faced more foes than he could shake a stick at, and had never shrunk from any situation, no matter the odds.

Until he met Olivia. Were his jumpy nerves due to a simple case of not wanting to disappoint the woman?

It seemed possible since giving her something she wanted had somehow become incredibly important. He heard footsteps and looked up, seeing her head in his direction. “Are you ready?”

She took his outstretched hand. “As I’ll ever be.” Looking up at the ride, she let out a happy sigh. “I’ve been the architect of my happiness for quite some time, so it’s weird having someone who wants to…”

“Be your builder?” he finished.

“Yes.”

“Well, before you make a list of things you want to do to me…I mean, for me, let’s see if it works.”

Olivia bit her bottom lip. “Don’t you worry; all efforts will be appropriately rewarded.”

“I look forward to it.” He gave her a confident nod and flipped the Ferris wheel switch. The engine slowly rumbled to life, and he pulled her away. The old ride began moving as the rusty sound of the wheel turning filled the air. He’d taken off the passenger gondolas earlier and was glad their clanking back and forth was not part of the debut. The ride made its first revolution, and he took a cautious breath, praying it could make a second.

Olivia let out a whoop. “You did it, Zane. Holy moly, you really can do anything.”

A sense of accomplishment overwhelmed him.

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