Page 104 of A World Without You
I laugh lightly. “Oh, that’s why you kept calling me every L name in the book.”
Joe laughs again and Bennett smiles down at me. “You’re always Liv to me. Sorry.”
His words coat my heart with honey. I love knowing I’m someone to everyone else, and an entirely different person to him.
“Anyway, the two of you could use a drink to celebrate,” Joe adds, directing us to the bar.
With cocktails in hand, I’m standing a little taller and fully prepared to take on this room. I feel a little less like an outsider and more like the big-to-do new hire the boys in marketing need to grovel to for approval.
“Why do you think he did it?” I ask Bennett, my voice hushed against the frosted glass of my cranberry martini. I pick at the pine garnish so I don’t swallow it.
“Because he loved you once,” he answers plainly. “He doesn’t hate you, Liv. You just hurt him.”
I glance up at Bennett. “He said he never wants to see me again. Why would he speak so highly of me for a job I’m barely qualified to fill?”
“First of all, you are qualified. You took a breather in the mountains, and now you’re back to kick ass at corporate just like you used to. But just because he never wants to see you again, doesn’t mean he can’t still want the best for you.”
I nod slowly, my brain taking each of his words and trying to let them make sense.
“Think of it this way,” Bennett says as we walk away from the bar and find a small cocktail table in the corner to stand at. It’s covered in a crimson linen tablecloth, and a single candle wrapped in a holly wreath sits in the center. “Have you ever outgrown something? Your favorite sweatshirt? Your baby blanket? The stupid penguin stuffy you couldn’t part with from the time you were nine?”
I glare at him for throwing Petie the Penguin under the bus. “That’s wildly specific.”
He smiles knowingly with a shrug but continues. “Sometimes you outgrow things, and you have to let them go. But that doesn’t mean all the love you accumulated for them goes away. It just means you get to pass it on, and they get to move on knowing they were once loved by you.”
Tears brim against my lashes. “That’s not how I feel about baby blankets and stuffed animals.”
Bennett smiles and leans closer. “But maybe it’s how Colin feels about you.”
I hold my breath on his words until finally, I let them go with a long groan. “You’re right. We let each other go. And I get it. We don’t know each other anymore—we just did once upon a time.” I stare across the room yet again and he leans into his fiancée’s ear to whisper words that used to only be meant for me. “He’s a good guy.”
“He is,” Bennett confirms.
I glance up at him. “You’re all right, too.”
Bennett chuckles. “I try.”
I sip my cocktail and make a face.
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I do...” I stare at the cocktail for a moment. “At least, I think so, but it kind of tastes like a Christmas tree. Here, try.” I guide the drink to his lips, and he covers my hands with his as he sips.
He pulls back and stares at it with the same questioning look I must have had. “Wait. One more sip.” He considers the taste with a smirk, tilting his head like he’s deep in thought. “It’s delicious but also...tastes like a Christmas tree, and I’m a bit concerned we both seem to know what that tastes like.”
“Says the man who said I was a feral child,” I tease.
“I guess it tracks,” he says, shrugging and I nudge his shoulder. I pull out the sprig of pine, wondering why they didn’t use rosemary and toss it on a napkin.
“I’m surprised they put an actual tree branch in your drink,” he adds, a smile spreading on his face.
“Maybe they wanted to take ‘tastes like Christmas’ to a literal level.” I laugh as I fish a rogue pine needle out of my cocktail. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Colin walking over with the beautiful yet elegant blonde.
“Colin,” I say, smiling to hide my surprise that he wants to be this close to me.
“Olivia.” He nods once, then turns to Bennett and shakes his hand. “Bennett.”
I let out a low breath, plaster on my best smile, and reach out my hand. “I’m Olivia. You must be Colin’s fiancée.”
