Life Support (The Breathe Series Book 2) (2 page)

I stop pumping against her and wrap an arm around her shoulder and across her chest, drawing her back against my front. I lovingly kiss her neck. “You look beautiful. For serious. Please. Let’s go before you and this dress change my mind and I call my mother to tell her we’ll be there for dinner, not lunch. This dress is incredible, by the way. Is it new?” I ask as I skim my hand down her side to rest on her hip.

Olivia surveys her short, little sundress in the mirror and pulls away from my grasp. “You don’t think it’s too short?” She turns from side to side and sweeps her hand over her firm ass, seemingly skeptical of her outfit. The dress fits her perfectly and it definitely has an effect on me. “I think I look like a slut,” she pouts. “I’m going to change.”

As Olivia turns on her heel toward the walk-in closet, I grab her wrist and yank her back and into my arms, pressing her against my solid chest. “Listen, I think you look phenomenal. There’s no need to change.” I bend to kiss her reassuringly on the lips.

“But I—”

“Let me put it another way,” I interject. “If you change again, I’m going to leave you here and visit my mom without you. That will make me upset. It will make my mother disappointed, and you know I try very hard not to let down my mother.” I smile sarcastically and tilt my head to the side.

Olivia purses her lips and looks up at me through her long, dark eyelashes. “Okay. No changing,” she acquiesces.

“Good. Thank you.” I give her a kiss on her forehead and release her from my hold. As Olivia bends to slip on her strappy sandals, my hand makes contact with her ass. I grab a handful and give it a firm squeeze. “I’ll grab the wine from the fridge and meet you by the door. Ten minutes, Olivia. Ten,” I stress.

Olivia yelps and stands up quickly. “You tease! Keep that up, mister, and there’s no way we’re making lunch at your mother’s.”

“Promises, promises.” I grin to myself as I make my way toward the kitchen.

The drive to Woodbridge is relatively uneventful. We run into traffic—as I suspected we would—but we manage to make it to my mom’s house without too much delay. As I shut off my black Range Rover, I turn in my seat and look at Olivia. She’s twisting her fingers in her lap and looks a pasty shade of white.

“How are you feeling? Ready?”

Olivia runs her hands over her legs, pulling her dress down as far as it can. I can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“What?!” she asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” I grin. “It’s just I’ve never seen you this nervous before. I think it’s kinda cute.”

Olivia rolls her eyes at me and drops down the sun visor to check herself out in the mirror yet again. I reach over and flip up the visor. After grabbing her hand, I bring it to my lips and softly kiss the inside of her palm.

“You look beautiful. I love you.
They’ll
love you. They already know how happy you make me, and honestly, that’s enough for them. Please. Do me the honor of meeting my family?” I ask hopefully.

Olivia’s tense shoulders instantly relax and she inhales a deep, cleansing breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

She smiles back at me with a renewed resolve, and I give her a reassuring wink as we both exit the vehicle.

“Wow…” Olivia gasps, getting a good look at my childhood home.

The 3,800 square-foot house sits on an acre of property with my mother’s pristine lawn greeting all who visit. The stark, white Craftsman, complete with black shutters and a gleaming red door, seems to sparkle in the late morning sun.

“Is this the famous lawn?” Olivia asks with a knowing smile.

My mother is just north of obsessed about her lawn. When she resodded the grass a few years ago, she did her research and knew that she needed to have a hybrid of four types of Kentucky bluegrass strains and two types of perennial rye grass strains. Now, it is with great pride that she has a lawn that would put any major league ballpark to shame.

“It
is
the famous lawn. Beautiful, isn’t it? You’ll score major points if you tell my mom how immaculate it is,” I halfway joke in an effort to help calm Olivia down, but she doesn’t take the bait. I pull Olivia toward me and grin as I slink an arm around her waist and tilt her chin up to look at me. “
Relax,
beautiful. It’s going to be a nice day, okay?” I lean down and give her a quick kiss.

Olivia offers me a hopeful look. “Okay. You’re right. It’s going to be a great day,” she states so emphatically that I almost believe her.

I give her another reassuring kiss and we turn to walk up to the house.

“Mom? Em? We’re here!” I call out as we walk through the front door, pulling Olivia inside the house. Okay, maybe I’m just a tad anxious.

“Owen!” my mom calls out from the kitchen. She rounds the corner, drying her hands on a hand towel before laying it over her shoulder. “Olivia,” she says with a bright smile and her arms outstretched. “It is so nice that Owen has decided to finally share you with us for a few hours.” Mom lifts a shoulder and winks, teasing me. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

Bypassing me, my mom embraces Olivia in a warm, welcoming hug. Olivia returns the hug and looks at me over my mom’s shoulder, looking somewhat surprised by the instant show of affection.

I lift my brow and smirk. “We’re kind of a touchy-feely family,” I explain.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Maxwell,” Olivia replies, pulling away from her.

“It’s Mimi or Michelle. Family calls me Mimi, so I’d prefer that,” Mom says with a wide smile. “And my Owen,” she says, finally giving me a hug. “How are you both?”

“There he is!” Emily interrupts. She and her husband, Vince, walk down the staircase hand in hand, beaming when they see that we’ve finally made it.

“Emmers!” Once they hit the foyer, I give my sister a big hug that lifts her off the ground. “It’s great to see you, Em,” I say with genuine affection as I place her back on the floor and place a kiss on her cheek.

“You too, you big goober.” Emily runs a hand over her sandy-blonde hair and straightens her shirt before turning toward Olivia.

“Emily, you remember Olivia?” I am one month and four days post my work accident where I fell in a collapsed fire escape outside a brownstone in Brooklyn. When I was recovering in the hospital, Olivia was introduced to Emily. I’m told that the meeting went well, but I can only imagine how awkward that initial meeting was, especially since Olivia and I were broken up at the time.

“Of course. I think we both look a little better than the first time we met,” Emily chuckles, fluffing her hair dramatically. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Olivia.”

“Agreed!” Olivia extends her hand with a warm smile. “That was—”

Emily takes hold of Olivia’s hand and pulls her in for a hug. Olivia laughs softly and quickly wraps her arms around Emily, hugging her back. Emily pulls away briefly, not actually letting go of Olivia, and waves toward her husband.

“This is my Vince,” she says with an affectionate smile.

“Hi, Vince. So nice to meet you!” Olivia says, reaching out her one free hand to shake his.

He squeezes her hand and smiles. “As you can see, we’ve been dying to see the woman who finally got Owen to settle down. We thought you might be a figment of his imagination or something.”

I punch Vince in the arm and he falls into a fit of laughter. “Seriously, Vince? What the fuck!”

“Language!” my mother calls out.

I look at her apologetically. “Sorry, Mom.”

“Okay, enough of this silliness. Let’s get into the kitchen and catch up.” Mom grins. She reaches for Olivia’s hand and starts to drag her toward the kitchen, pulling her from Emily’s death grip. “Come on, Miss Olivia. Time for me to start grilling you properly.”

“Be easy on her, Mom. And, Olivia, just remember that I love you. A lot.”

Olivia looks back over her shoulder at me with a smile. I know Olivia will be able to handle herself with my mom. But just in case, I start to follow them into the kitchen. After taking a seat at the counter, I watch as Olivia deflects the conversation from herself by getting my mom to talk about her yard.
Nice move, baby. Well played.

While Olivia steps into the kitchen to speak with my mom, I pick a spot at the counter far enough away to give them some privacy, but close enough to step in to redirect the conversation if necessary. “So,” Emily begins, pulling out a stool to sit next to me while Vince flanks me on the other side. “What took you so long to get her over here? She’s quite charming.”

“She’s a lot of things—charming being just one of them. I don’t know why it’s taken us so long to get out here. I just know that I was ready and our weekend schedules lined up, so here we are. Mom’s coming with us out to Seattle for Travis’s wedding in a few weeks, so I wanted to make the formal introductions before then.”

I watch Olivia, deep in conversation with my mom. When she looks up at me, I smile and mouth, “You okay?” She nods her head slightly and winks at me reassuringly.

I try to keep an ear on Mom and Olivia’s conversation while talking with Emily and Vince—more like avoiding their incessant questions. I catch bits and pieces of both conversations, but my attention is focused on Olivia. I overhear them talking about my mom’s newest obsession of growing eggplants and watermelons.

“When I come to stay with Owen before we fly out for Travis’s wedding, I’ll bring you some veggies and fruit if you want?”

“Oh! I’d love that!” Olivia tells her excitedly.

I would like that too, actually. One of the things I have come to enjoy when Olivia stays over is her cooking. It makes me feel like we’re a real couple, which is a feeling I’m still growing accustomed to. It’s kind of like we’re playing grown-up, X-rated house and it gives me a sense of what it will be like when Olivia moves in with me.

“Owen!” Mom points her finger over to me, jarring me from my thoughts. “Lunch will be another half hour or so. Why don’t you show Olivia around the house or sit outside with her and have some lemonade on the back porch?”

“Mimi, are you sure you don’t want some help?” Olivia asks.

“No, no. Emily is going to help. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself. There’s a little brook in back that runs through the woods. It’s pretty back there. Have Owen show you around and relax.”

Olivia nods her head, still seeming unsure.

“Come on, beautiful,” I assure her. “I’ll show you all my childhood hangouts.” I smile mischievously, and Olivia lifts her eyebrow, knowing that I have a plan brewing.

I take Olivia’s hand in mine as I lead her out of the kitchen and down the hallway toward the formal living room. I point out a picture of my father’s swearing-in ceremony when he became a senator for Connecticut. After taking the picture from the mantel, I trace my fingers around the framed glass, remembering that day with great pride and fondness. I recall how stoic and official my dad looked talking with the Vice President of the United States and the beaming smile on my mom’s face as she held the Bible while dad recited his oath to dutifully serve his constituents. It makes my heart ache that he’s not around to meet Olivia. I know he would have loved her too.

Silently, I put the picture back in its place and glance down at Olivia, who looks contemplatively at me. She lovingly strokes my arm and leans her head against my shoulder as if reading my sad thoughts.

I chuckle reflectively as I pick up another old family picture. I was maybe twelve years old with a mouth full of braces and wearing a hideous navy-and-yellow-plaid shirt complete with silver snap buttons. Emily is seated on my dad’s lap with pigtails in her hair, looking adorable in a pink, floral-print dress. I recall the photographer positioning my hand uncomfortably on Emily’s shoulder and how Mom kept complaining that the poses were too fake. As I look back at the picture, I realize that Mom was right. This picture belongs on one of those awkward family photo websites.

As I recount the story to Olivia, she laughs and comments how handsome I was even back then. I pull her close and give her a chaste kiss on her temple. My hand absently travels down her waist and over her ass, trying to feel if she’s wearing any underwear under her dress.

“Owen! Stop!” she scolds.

“What? I’m just trying to figure out what you’re rockin’ under this dress. I’m going a little crazy thinking about it, actually.”

“Someone could walk in,” she whispers loudly through a clenched jaw. “Do you think that’s a very good impression to make on your family?!”

“I really don’t care what they think, to be honest. I blame you for making yourself so damn fuckable.”

“Owen. Seriously. Stop.”

“Sure, you say that now, but you won’t be saying that later.” I lean in to her ear and whisper, “You’ll be saying, ‘Oh God, Owen, don’t stop! Don’t stop fucking me. Harder, Owen! Faster! More!’” I say with a breathy chuckle as Olivia pushes against my chest, feigning shock.

She gives me a chastising look and shakes her head. “You are such a horndog,” she says, stifling a laugh.

I lean forward and place little kisses on her shoulder and up the side of her neck. A soft moan escapes Olivia’s mouth, and after getting the response I was after, I pull away, leaving her reeling. Her eyes flutter open at the loss of my mouth on her warm skin. I smile playfully and take hold of her hand to lead her out of the living room and toward the backyard.