Page 85 of Love so Cold

OMG!

He's introducing you to his family!

My heart skips a beat.

Avery

It's not like that

I type hastily, even as my palms start to sweat.

Avery

We're just friends.

Samantha

Sure

Friends who spend holidays together and meet the family.

I'm about to argue when Olivia pokes her head in. "Mom? I'm all packed!"

"That's great, sweetie," I say, quickly texting goodbye to the girls. "One sec?—"

Olivia's eyes widen as she takes in the chaos of my room. Clothes are strewn everywhere, covering every surface like multicolored snow.

"Yep! Are you okay? You look... stressed." Her young eyes are too perceptive.

"Fine, fine," I insist, even as my phone chirps with another round of messages. I swipe to silence it.

Olivia's gaze sweeps over my room—clothes strewn across the bed, a suitcase gaping open like a hungry mouth—and she arches an eyebrow. "Looks like you could use some help."

"Is it that obvious?" I laugh, even though the chaos around me feels like a mirror to my jumbled thoughts.

"Kinda," Olivia says with a giggle, stepping inside. "Let's get you packed, Mom. Boston won't know what hit it."

"Thanks, Liv." Relief washes over me, not just for thehelp, but for her presence grounding me amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"First things first," she declares with the confidence only a ten-year-old can muster, "we need to find something nice for you to wear. Something that'll make Mr. Victor's jaw drop."

"Alright, Operation Jaw Drop," I chuckle, giving in to Olivia's infectious enthusiasm. "But if Victor's jaw doesn't drop, you're on the hook for making Thanksgiving dinner." I wink at her, rummaging through the clothes scattered like colorful autumn leaves.

"Deal!" she chirps, holding up a deep red sweater that brings out the warmth in my cheeks. "This one screams 'fall festive' and 'I'm not trying too hard.'"

"Perfect choice." I nod, plucking it from her hands and folding it neatly into the suitcase.

"Mom," Olivia begins, her voice suddenly serious as she sits cross-legged on the bed, "you and Victor are kind of a thing now, huh?"

I pause, a pair of jeans halfway to the suitcase. "Kind of," I admit, avoiding her perceptive gaze. It's new territory, this thing with Victor, and I'm treading lightly.

"It's okay, Mom. I like him," she reassures me, her small hand patting the spot next to her.

"Thanks, Liv." I sit beside her, the denim fabric forgotten in my lap. "I just don't want us—either of us—to get our hopes up. Hearts can get bruised that way."

"But Mom," she says, a wisdom beyond her yearsglinting in her eyes, "if you never put your feelings out there, you'll never feel anything at all. You could miss out on something amazing."

Her words hit home, and I pull her into a hug, amazed by the little person in my arms. "You've grown so much this year, you know that?"

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