The Opportunist
Page 35

I hold my breath while he dials and pray that he isn’t calling Leah.
“Mum,” I hear him say and I slump against Pickles in relief.
“No, no, I’m fine. I just decided to take a little trip…she did? What did she want?”
I didn’t think about Leah calling his parent’s house.
“…Oh, but she didn’t tell you why?…well, I’ll be back in a couple of days, I’ll talk to her then…Yes I’m sure mum. Love you too.” I watch his face carefully. He looks worried.
“Hey,” I say taking my telephone from his hand and stuffing it in my purse.
“Come flirt with me while I heat these beans up.”
I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the plug outlet.
For the next four days, we stay cozened in our tent as the temperature drops to forty. We eat cup o’ noodles and fight over who got to sleep next to the portable heater. When it grows dark outside we pull our beach chairs together and wrap ourselves in blankets to watch the fire. Caleb keeps bringing up my failure to fill out my law school applications and I respond with a jab about his failure to propose to Leah. By the time we crawl into our separate sleeping bags at night, we have stupid smiles plastered on our faces. Every night Caleb engages me in an exchange that makes my toes tingle underneath all four pairs of my socks.
“Olivia?”
“Yes, Caleb?”
“Are you going to dream about me tonight?”
“Shut up.”
And then he laughs that beautiful, sexy laugh.
Chapter Eleven
The Past
“Do you love me?”
“I’m sorry—what?!”
“Do you love me? That’s a simple enough question. Would you prefer if I asked you in another language?” He rolled from his back onto his belly, rearing up above me. “M'aimez-vous? Você ama-me tanto como o amo?” Caleb, who was fluent in French and Italian, was showing off. The grass beneath my back began to itch like his question.
We had been dating for exactly one year and I had successfully skirted, ignored, and deferred my way through not answering it. It was hard work putting any of those techniques into use when Caleb Drake was inches away from your face, staring at you with his intense eyes. I took a deep breath to level myself and thought about the millions of starving children in Africa. We were in Georgia, camping much to my chagrin. I was tired and sweaty and wearing the same pair of pants that I wore the day before. We had been here for twenty-four hours and all I had received other than this rather obtuse question, was a bazillion bug bites and sore muscles.
“When I get home, I’m going to sponsor one of those kids from Kenya,” I said scratching my knee. “You know—from those Children’s Fund commercials?”
Caleb gave me a look.
“I…I…love…ice cream…” I said squirming underneath his gaze. “And I love hot showers and clean clothes.”
“Olivia?” he said in a warning voice.
“Caleb,” I imitated his tone. He frowned at me and I looked away. It wasn’t like I was holding back the Canaan wine here. He hadn’t said I love you to me either, though he asked me this question often enough.
“Why do you always ask me that?” I sighed, ripping a piece of grass from the ground. I began tearing it into little shreds and tossing it to the breeze.
“Why do you never answer?”
“Because it’s a hard question.”
“It’s a yes or no, actually. You have a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right.”
If only it were that simple. Did I love him at this point? I loved him from the first point…the point where our two lives crossed the first time. I couldn’t tell him that though, I didn’t know how and every time I tried, the words would get stuck in my throat.
“You’re pressuring me.” I pushed him away and sat up dusting my hands on my sweats.
Caleb sprang to his feet, paced, and then turned around to face me. He was seething.
“I’ve never pressured you to do anything.”
I felt my face turn white. It was true. It was a lousy thing to say to a twenty-three year old man who never complained when his girlfriend always stopped short of second base.
“You’re trying to make me say something that I’m not ready to say,” I choked looking away.
“I’m trying to find out where we are going. Olivia. I already know you love me.”
I glared up at him in shock and he shrugged.
“The fact that you can’t say it—is a problem. I love you.”
My lip trembled. Pathetic, but it did. I felt my chest heaving in an effort to breathe. He loved me.
“You can’t say it because you don’t trust me. If you don’t trust me, I can’t be with you.”
I felt panic swell in my chest. Was he threatening me?
He was still towering over me, so I stood up. It didn’t do much good because he was a foot taller.
“I hate you,” I said and he started laughing.
“You fight like a child. I’m not dealing with you.” And he walked away, leaving me both utterly bewildered and buzzing in excitement from this new information. He loved me. I collapsed back into the grass and smiled up at the sky.
Later, when I grew tired of sulking by the lake, I went back to our tent and moped around. Caleb had yet to appear from wherever he stalked off to and I was getting hungry. I was digging around in our food stash when he walked through the flap of our fancy tent. Our eyes met and I dropped the bag of pretzels I was holding. Something was wrong, there was trouble written on his face. Was he going to break up with me now? I prepared myself and lined up some nasty things to say to him.
“You’re spoiled.”
“I’m an orphan,” I pointed out. “Who is there to spoil me?”
“I spoil you. I let you get away with too much. I give you free reign, and you take advantage.”
“You don’t own me, to give me free reign,” I said narrowing my eyes at him. “What an ass**le thing to say.” I turned away but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.
“I own you,” he said pulling me against his chest and holding me there. I stared up at him openmouthed.
“No,” I shook my head, but I wasn’t so sure what we were talking about anymore.
My wrists were tiny and they were clamped so securely in his big hands, that I didn’t even bother trying to pull away.