Chapter 67

Olivia

“You’re right, Olivia.” Angela’s eyes were filled with tears. As though she was suddenly deflated, she plopped down on the stool behind her and let out a deep, heavy sigh.

“So you do have a crush on Nathan?”

Angela nodded grimly, her eyes not wanting to meet mine. “I know it’s silly, but I feel like I’ve been in love with him since middle school,” she admitted. “Ever since we sat next to each other in science class and we had to work on a project together, I’ve been in love with him.”

“All this time?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “Why didn’t you ever tell him? You were always so popular — he probably would have jumped at the chance.”

Surprisingly, Angela shook her head. “I tried, on more than one occasion. I invited him to a school dance and he declined. In high school, he came to one of my pool parties, and we were playing Seven Minutes in Heaven. You remember that game?”

I nodded, suddenly thrust back in time to when I was a teenager. On the rare occasion that I ever went to a party, that game was played; two people would have to go into the closet together and spend seven minutes in there, in the dark.

It was just an excuse for people to make out.

“Well, we went into the closet together, and he wouldn’t touch me,” she said quietly. “I tried to kiss him, but he declined. It was an awkward seven minutes, to say the least. I gave up trying after that. So, yes, Olivia; I do have a crush on your mate.”

As Angela's confession hung in the air, the weight of her unspoken emotions settled upon us.

I absorbed her words, realizing that her unrequited love for Nathan had festered since our middle school days. It was a revelation that pierced through the layers of resentment and jealousy, shedding light on the true source of Angela's animosity.

My heart ached for her, recognizing the pain she had carried in silence while witnessing Nathan's love for Layla, and now me.

In that moment, I wished I could offer her solace, reveal the truth about my bond with Nathan, about how we weren’t really mates and this was all just a sordid act, but I knew the words could never leave my lips.

Instead, I chose a different approach.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out to Angela with empathy.

“Angela, I understand that you've been holding onto these feelings for a long time, and it must have been difficult for you. But it's not fair to take it out on other women, especially when we should be lifting each other up instead of tearing each other down.”

Angela's gaze faltered, her face contorted with shame. She handed me my paperwork, her hands trembling slightly.

“You're right, Olivia,” she muttered. “I'm sorry for my behavior. I shouldn't have let my jealousy cloud my judgment. I’ve been really nasty to you, and I’m really sorry for that.”

Her admission touched a chord within me, and I nodded, acknowledging her remorse. “We all make mistakes, Angela. The important thing is to learn from them and grow. Let's strive to be there for each other moving forward, despite our differences.”

I stood. As I did, Angela stood, too. Something strange happened then.

Without a word, she rushed forward. I tensed up, wondering if she was going to start a fight with me; but she didn’t. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me and let out a soft, choked sob into my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

My stiffness lingered for a few moments as shock overwhelmed me, but upon seeing Angela’s bitterness slip away and become replaced by genuine remorse, I couldn’t help but hug her back.

I still felt a little angry with Angela for treating me so horribly since I returned home. The awful words that she said to me over the months still stung, but her genuine apology and confession softened the blow.

Maybe, I thought to myself as I drove home that day, I could see myself getting along with Angela in the future. Maybe we could even be friends… Someday.

…

“Hello? Nathan?” I called out as I walked into the dark villa. “You home?”

My calls were met with silence. Nathan’s car was in the driveway, but it seemed as though he was out when I searched around for him.

I felt too ramped up after my final confrontation with Angela to relax, so I decided to look around for something to do. After a while of searching, I suddenly remembered the fully-stocked baking cabinet that Nathan prepared for me.

As I decided to channel my emotions into one of my favorite comforting activities, a smile crept across my face.

With determination, I set out to bake a cherry pie. It was a nostalgic treat that reminded me of happier times.

Flour coated my hands and apron as I lovingly prepared the ingredients, allowing the rhythmic motions of kneading the dough and patting it down into a pie pan to soothe my troubled mind.

Hours passed, but it didn’t feel like it. I was so absorbed in the process that it only felt like five minutes before I was pulling a golden, fragrant cherry pie out of the oven.

I was so lost in the process, in fact, that I was startled when the door creaked open. Nathan's familiar voice echoed through the room, easing my tense nerves. “Olivia, you home? What's that delicious smell?”

Turning to face him, my face adorned with a dusting of flour and the cherry pie in my gloved hands, I couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. “I decided to bake a cherry pie. Thought it might bring some sweetness to our day.”

Nathan's eyes went from confused to sparkling with amusement as he surveyed the flour-covered kitchen. “A cherry pie, huh?” he asked, glancing around. “Looks like you've been having fun. But you've made quite the mess along with it."

Chuckling, I set the pie down on the cooling rack then wiped my hands on my apron, smearing more flour on myself in the process. “Well, if you can't handle a messy baker, I guess you'll have to leave.”

He stepped closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, I think I can handle a little messiness if it means getting some free pie after a long day of work.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Following my laugh, though, there was a silence that hung heavily over our heads, broken only by the fragrant, fruity smell of the fresh-baked pie.

Nathan tentatively walked closer, peering down at the pie with its carefully handcrafted decorations on the top. Pies were my favorite things to bake, and I often enjoyed shaping little leaves and flowers out of the leftover pie crust to place on top.

“You want a taste?” I asked, my voice wavering as I realized how close Nathan was standing to me.

He nodded without saying a word, his eyes wandering away from the pie and up my floured apron, across my equally-floured neck, and then finally landing on my face.

With a swift motion, as though it was an impulse that he couldn’t control, he reached out and brushed a dusting of flour from my cheek.

I felt my face turn bright red.