CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Olive

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Olive

"I'm coming!"

I drag myself out of bed, glancing at the clock on my bedside table as I stumble my way out of the room.

6:04 a.m.

Who in their right mind is pounding on the door this early, and where do they want to be buried—because I am so close to committing murder.

I slept like crap last night, which isn't all that unusual lately, but last night was really one for the books after I had a three-hour-long conversation with my mother that involved a lot of tears. We talked about Jude, my messages getting leaked, and most importantly, Dad. We haven't done that in years, but all my journal entries dredged up some stuff we haven't really sorted through before, and though it was a rough conversation, it was healing at the same time.

I shuffle through the living room, barely registering that Remi is still awake, a pair of noise-canceling headphones over his head as he types away on the laptop that's balanced across his legs. He is so immersed in whatever he's doing that he doesn't even look my way.

Man, I wish I had that kind of concentration.

I check the peephole and am stunned by who I see on the other side.

I unbolt the door, then tug it open.

"Dylan."

She gives me a tight-lipped smile. "Hello, Olive."

"What are you doing here?"

Her left brow ticks up slightly, a small curve to her lips. "I'd like to talk, if you have a minute."

"It's six in the morning, and you want to talk?"

Now both brows are up, which I'm guessing means yes.

I swing the door open wider, waving my hand. "Come on in. I have a feeling I'm going to need coffee for this."

She brushes past me, stopping just inside the entryway to let me pass and lead her through the tiny apartment.

I head straight to the kitchen, going right for the coffee maker.

I grab a cup and a pod, then pop it in and let it do its thing as Dylan takes a seat at the counter, her back straight as a board as her eyes carefully track the room, taking it all in with her absurdly large purse clutched tightly in her hands.

I'm sure this place is a dump compared to where she lives, but I don't really care what she thinks.

The machine gurgles behind me, filling the cup with coffee, the aroma permeating the room.

I notice from the corner of my eye that this is what gets Remi's attention.

He tips up his head when he spies Dylan, then shrugs and turns back to his work.

"What can I do for you?" I ask when she doesn't speak.

"For starters, you can forgive Jude."

I wrinkle my nose. "Forgive Jude? For what? He didn't do anything."

"If you think that, then why haven't you spoken to him in two weeks?"

"Because I ..." I sigh. "I can't be part of that world. It's too much for me."

She twists her lips to the side, nodding as she finally lets go of her purse, setting it on the empty stool next to her. "I get that. I do. But ..."

I open my mouth to stop whatever it is she's about to say, but she holds up her hand.

"Let me get this out, okay?"

I don't want to. Not really.

But if I'm honest, I am a little curious what she's going to say, so I motion for her to continue.

She clears her throat, pressing her shoulders back even more. "I can protect you from all this."

I scoff, giving her my back as I retrieve my delicious cup of caffeine. I go to the fridge, pulling out my almond milk. I drop a splash into the mug, then scoop in two teaspoons of sugar before turning back to Dylan.

"I know that sounds improbable, given everything that's already transpired," she says. "But that situation was different. That was completely out of anyone's control."

That's what it seems like. Remi is still trying to figure out the source, but Hollywood is secretive when it wants to be. He hasn't found anything concrete yet but thinks he's close.

"We know who posted your diary, Olive."

Now it's my shoulders that go straight. "What?"

"Last night, at an event, Keely Haart confessed to the leak."

My entire world spins.

There's no way she just said ...

"She was hurt because of that stupid date I set her and Jude up on," she continues. "He didn't kiss her at the end because he was hung up on you, and she felt slighted. So when she and Jasper started seeing one another and she snooped through his phone and found your messages, I guess all that anger came flooding back. She's the one who took the screenshots you've seen plastered all over the internet. She texted them to herself, covered her tracks, then sold them to the press under a pseudonym."

"You're kidding."

Dylan and I both look up to find Remi standing in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips.

He shakes his head, his long hair swishing back and forth. "That would explain things. I found a name, but it went nowhere. Not a trace of the person on the whole internet. I had a hunch it was a fake, but I never thought to connect it to Keely Haart."

He looks as pissed as I feel, though I suspect he's more upset he couldn't find the person.

The Keely Haart sabotaged me?

"I know it's a lot to take in, but I need you to believe that Jude had nothing to do with it. And neither did Jasper. It ... it wasn't expected, and it caught us all off guard. But I promise you, Olive, I can protect you from anything else. I can make sure you're out of the headlines. That you're left alone by paparazzi. That whatever other fears you're harboring, I can solve."

Her words sound sweet and sincere, but there's really no way to ensure what she's saying is true.

The world is too unpredictable for that.

"He's miserable, Olive."

"He didn't look miserable last night."

Because I'm a glutton for punishment, I might have convinced Annie that I was feeling much better and gotten her to give me back access to my Instagram account.

I then spent the entire night watching the photos roll in from Jude's latest red-carpet event, hence the crabbiness over the 6:00 a.m. wake-up call.

Jude didn't look miserable. He was smiling and laughing. He looked like he was having the time of his life.

Dylan points a long red fingernail at me. "That's a lie and we both know it. He looked miserable."

I guess if I'm being completely honest, something did look off with him last night.

Sure, he was smiling, but that smile never reached his eyes.

Yeah, he was laughing in interviews, but it sounded wrong. Forced.

And yes, while it might have looked like he was having the time of his life, I'm almost certain that's because he had Cait and Jasper there, cutting the tension and getting him to loosen up.

"He misses you," Dylan says, her voice much softer this time. "I've never seen him like this before, and I don't like it. I want the old Jude back."

I want the old Jude back too.

"He loves you, you know."

Maybe I've not had enough caffeine yet, because there is no way she said what I think she did.

"He loves you, Olive."

Oh god. She did.

"And if my intuition is as good as I believe it to be, then you love him too."

"She does." Annie steps into the small kitchen, her eyes still puffy from sleep. "She loves him too."

"Annie!" I hiss, but she doesn't seem to care.

"She's been awful these last two weeks. Barely getting off the couch, avoiding her job. She's not even been drinking wine, and she loves wine. She's heartbroken because she's too damn stubborn to admit that she was wrong to push Jude away. That while she's terrified of his fame, she's still in love with him."

"Annie ..." I say again, but the bite in my words is gone.

Everything she's said is true.

I am miserable, and I am in love with Jude.

But mostly, I am being stubborn.

Can I truly be blamed? After everything that's happened, is it really that irrational for me to fear his fame? Or his reach? I had two brands drop out of contracts because they were worried about future scandal. That's my business. My livelihood. Sure, one of the companies that dropped, I wasn't even that excited about working with. And yeah, my followers are going down, but I'm okay with that too. I'd rather be followed for my actual work, not because I'm making headlines.

Maybe I'm just being stubborn because this thing with Jude scares me. Not just his fame—though that is terrifying in its own right—but also the way he makes me feel. The way my heart races when he's around. The way I like that it races.

I never want to have my heart broken like it was when my father died, and Jude has the power to do that.

And I am absolutely terrified of that possibility.

"Listen, Olive," Dylan says, dropping her shoulders and losing the edge that always seems to be in her voice, "I'm not trying to tell you what to do. You're not my client, so I can't." She laughs lightly. "But if you want my unsolicited opinion on it, as someone who has known Jude for a long time, he wants this. He'll fight tooth and nail to make sure you're safe and taken care of, no matter the cost. So if you're scared, don't be. When a Rafferty loves, he loves for life, and he'll do anything to protect that love." She shrugs. "Think about it, okay?"

I nod, unsure of what to say to her right now.

She basically told me the man I love loves me back and that I should push aside every single doubt and fear running through me and put my faith into him.

She sends me a smile, then grabs the oversize purse she walked in with, slinging it back over her shoulder. She gives Annie a small smile and sends Remi a wave before making her way to the door.

The familiar creak echoes through the apartment as she pulls it open; then I hear, "Oh, and Olive? He'll be at Cait's bakery this morning. You know, just in case you wanted to go looking for him."

With that, she leaves, her words still echoing in my head.

When a Rafferty loves, he loves for life, and he'll do anything to protect that love.

With a steadying breath, I tug open the door to Cait's Confectionery, the scent of warm sugar hitting my nose almost instantly.

But that's not what makes me smile.

No. It's the man sitting in the middle of the busy bakery, his head dropped low as he stares at a laptop.

Jude.

He's right where Dylan said he'd be, a coffee and piece of fudge beside him on the table. The mere sight of him after two weeks apart is enough to steal the breath from my lungs.

He looks the same yet different. A little worn and defeated—the same two things I see in the mirror every morning.

It took me all of ten seconds after Dylan left to decide she was right. Annie and Mrs. Hammish too.

I can't let this pass me up because I'm scared.

I've been scared before. Many times. Like when my dad passed away. Or when I moved to New York City on my own at eighteen, fresh out of high school. When I applied to Uma's agency. When I went to my first shoot, not having a clue what I was doing. Hell, I still get scared when I post certain outfits to my Instagram.

But this? Love? Trust?

I can't be scared of that.

It's too big. Too important. Too damn real. I can't keep pushing those things from my life just because I'm scared they'll bite me in the ass.

If there's anything I've learned, it's that life's too short not to forgive. And really too damn short not to love.

A low murmur moves through the crowd when people realize I've walked in, heads turning my way. I'm still not used to being stared at and talked about, but I guess it's something I'd better get accustomed to—and fast.

A gasp travels across the room to grab my attention, and I find Cait standing behind the sweets counter, her eyes wide and her smile even wider. Her belly is finally starting to poke out, and I already know she's going to be one of those pretty pregnant people, thanks to those damn Rafferty genes.

Jude doesn't miss the sound, either, his head shooting up, turning to check on his sister.

He follows her line of sight, turning back around, searching, searching, searching ...

Me.

For the first time in two weeks, our eyes collide, and just like that, everything feels right in my world again.

Then he smiles, and I realize I was wrong.

Now everything feels right.

My feet move on their own, dragging me through the bakery and right to Jude.

He stands in a rush, pushing aside his laptop and clumsily knocking his knees against the table, almost sending his coffee falling to the floor. He catches it just in time, setting it back down on the table, then looks up at me with a crooked smile.

"Hi."

I laugh. "Hi."

He clears his throat, then lifts his hand, running it through his hair like I've seen him do so many times before, his biceps flexing with the movement.

"Uh, do you want some fudge?"

I tuck my lips together. "That's what you have to say to me? Two weeks pass, and you ask me if I want some fudge?"

He chuckles, tucking his hands into his front pockets, the tightness of his plain gray T-shirt apparent as it stretches over his chest. "In my defense, it's really good fudge."

"Is that so?"

He rocks back on his heels, looking extra cute. "Yep."

I grab the back of the chair. "Can I?"

"Yes!" The volume of the word startles even him. He coughs. "I mean, yeah. Yeah. Sure."

I pull the chair out, sitting down slowly, and Jude matches my pace, dropping back into the chair opposite mine.

We sit in silence for several minutes, staring at one another.

Me, because I can't believe I'm seeing him again.

Him, because ... well, I don't know. But I guess the goofy grin on his face means it's for a good reason.

The crowd in Cait's Confectionery slowly turns their attention back to their own tables and conversations, scraping their forks against their plates, ignoring us like good New Yorkers.

Jude rests his arms against the small table, leaning closer, just enough for me to get hit with a wave of what's quickly become my favorite scent—pine.

"Hi."

I laugh. "You said that already."

"I did?" He shrugs. "Guess I'm nervous."

"Why?"

He shoots me a look. "You know why, Sunshine."

Sunshine.

The single word sends a blanket of warmth through me. I didn't realize how much I missed it until now.

"I didn't think I'd see you again," he tells me.

"I didn't think I'd see you again either."

"I hoped."

"Me too," I confess, because it's true. I did hope I'd see him again, even if it was just running into him at JT's. "Dylan told me you'd be here."

"You're stalking me through my publicist now?"

"You stalked me through my best friend, so I guess we're fair."

"Technically, I stalked you through your nurse."

I roll my eyes.

"That's a good one, by the way. The eye roll. Is it weird I missed that?"

"Yes."

"Well, then I guess I'm weird because I missed that almost as much as I missed you." He inches closer, dropping his voice. "And I really, really missed you, Sunshine."

I sigh. "Say that again."

"I missed you."

"I missed you too." The words fall out effortlessly. "So much, Jude. I'm so—"

"Don't," he cuts me off. "Don't you dare apologize. You don't need to. I'm the one who should apologize. I should have ... Fuck, Olive. I should have been more careful. Should have eased you into this world slower. I grew up in this. I'm used to the cutthroat aspects of it. You're not. That wasn't fair of me to drop you into this and expect you to be okay with it. I'm so sorry."

His eyes—those gorgeous green ones I missed so damn much—shine with emotion, and I know without a doubt he means what he says.

"And to make up for that, I'm going to do something equally embarrassing."

He grabs the laptop, pulling it back in front of him.

Eyes scanning the screen, he taps the keyboard, concentrating hard.

He exhales heavily, then forcibly presses the Enter key.

"There. Done."

"Done? What's done?"

He grins over at me. "We're even now."

"Even now . . . ?" I shake my head. "What do you . . ."

Phones start going off at random tables in the bakery; then the stares return. People dart their attention between their phones and us, their eyes widening as they take in whatever is splashed across their screens. They lean together, whispering, their murmurs growing louder by the second.

Did he . . . ?

Oh no.

No, no, no.

I snatch the laptop off the table, pulling it over to my side.

My eyes search the screen, confirming my worst fear.

It's his Instagram profile, and each little square looks like a piece of paper, all of them containing several lines of writing that all start the same way.

Hey Journal,

It's Jude. Today, Jasper broke Mom's Tiffany vase. Yeah, we're in our twenties and shouldn't really worry about getting in trouble with our parents anymore, but my dad is scary as hell. Of course I'm going to worry!

I wouldn't admit this to anyone else but ... it was my fault. I shoved him.

But I'm still letting him take the blame.

I grin, knowing that story well from Joel Rafferty himself. It's even better now, knowing it was really Jude instead of Jasper who broke it.

Hey Journal,

It's Jude. I met someone today at that coffee truck I love going to.

She called me an Asshat.

Can you believe it? ME!

Is it wrong if I found it kind of hot?

Probably.

Hey Journal,

It's Jude. I had a meeting with Larry Brickey today. We did a video call and I farted. Like LOUDLY. In my very empty, echo-y apartment. It was embarrassing as hell, but I think I played it off well enough.

At least, I hope.

Can you be kicked out of a movie you've already filmed? I'm the star, so I don't think it's possible, but who knows with technology these days.

Note to self: No farting on video calls.

Hey Journal,

It's Jude. I popped a boner in the park today because Olive was grinding on my lap.

I really, really, really, REALLY hope that paparazzi didn't get a picture of it. Yeah, I'm proud of what I'm packing, but I don't need the entire world to see my underwear and my boner all within one year, you know?

Hey Journal,

It's Jude. I took my sister to a movie premiere today. I'll totally never tell her this, but I actually had fun.

Fuck, I can't wait to be an uncle. I'm going to be the best uncle ever. Way better than Jasper, that's for certain.

Jasper, if you somehow find this and read this like you used to do back in high school, I'M UNCLE NUMBER ONE, YOU FUCKER.

I peek over the screen at him, torn between the horror and hilarity of what I'm seeing. "Jude, tell me you didn't."

"I did."

"Why?"

"All your secrets were shared with the world, so I figured it was only fair all of mine were shared too." He shrugs like this is no big deal. Like he, Jude Rafferty, didn't just post his journal to his Instagram for the whole internet to pick apart.

And they will. I know from experience.

They'll dissect every single word and create their own stories from it.

He's in for a world of hurt.

My shoulders sag. "Jude . . ."

"No. No Jude. I had to do this, Olive. You shouldn't have had to endure all that alone, and now you won't have to."

I shake my head at him. "You're nuts."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"You are."

"That remains to be seen."

I point at the laptop. "Oh, it's seen all right. And it's about to seen by millions."

"That's fine. Let them read it. I just really, really hope they read all of it, especially the last page." He grins slyly ... suggestively.

The last page?

I drag my finger over the trackpad, scrolling past every post that contains all Jude's secrets that I want to read, but I'm not going to. I'll wait for him to tell me about them himself.

Except for the last page. I have to know what that says.

After fifty posts, I finally find it.

I lean forward, reading each line carefully.

So, journal, that's it. That's everything. That's all of me. Everything you'd ever need to know about.

Except one thing ... One little, tiny thing I haven't told anyone yet.

I'm in love.

Like madly in love. Stupidly, if posting this is any indication.

I'm in love with Olive O'Brien, and I want the whole world to know.

And I guess they do now, huh?

Until next time . . .

XOXO

Jude Rafferty

I can't help it. I laugh. Hard. So hard I snort.

"Hey!" He chuckles himself. "Are you laughing at my love confession?"

"No, no. I'm laughing at ..." I exhale sharply, trying to get it under control. When I finally do, I say, "Why did you sign off like you're Gossip Girl?"

He lifts his shoulders. "Kind of felt fitting, you know? I mean, I did spread a ton of gossip about myself."

I grin, shaking my head at the man sitting before me.

The man I'm madly and stupidly in love with.

"You know, there's probably going to be some other Olive O'Brien out there who will be very happy with this confession."

"I'm really only worried about what one particular Olive O'Brien thinks of it."

"Yeah? Do you have her number to check in with her?"

He narrows his eyes, trying to play along, but I see it—the worry in his gaze.

He's scared I don't feel the same.

"Hey, Jude?"

"Yeah, Sunshine?"

"I love you too."

His breath catches in his throat; then he exhales slowly. "Say that again."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Olive. And if you decide to give this another shot, I promise you, I'll do everything I can to protect you, even if that means giving all of this up."

"Jude . . . no."

"I would," he continues. "I'd do it right now if that's what you wanted. The movies, the TV shows, the fame and glitz and glam ... I'd give it all up if it meant spending another day with you. You know that, right?"

I can't even find the words.

I don't want him to give up his dreams. I want him to be happy. And I want to be happy with him, just like he is.

So I don't say anything at all.

I lean over the table and press my lips against his like I've been dying to do since the second he came home from London.

He's stricken for only a moment before he's returning the kiss with equal eagerness, his hand slipping to the back of my neck, holding me to him like he never wants to let go.

I don't want to let go either.

Not now and not ever.

Because this thing with Jude? It's real, and it's everything I've ever wanted.

He's everything I ever wanted.

And I can't imagine giving him up now.

The crowd bursts into cheers and applause. A few people even let out loud whistles. It's enough to break us from our spell, our kisses slowing until our lips are barely brushing together.

When I pull away and peel my eyes open, Jude's smiling like a loon.

"You look crazy," I tell him.

"Only for you."

I roll my eyes, and his grin grows wider.

"I missed that."

"What? Me rolling my eyes at you?"

"Yep. The good ones and the bad ones."

I shake my head, doing a poor job at trying to tame the grin that's threatening my lips. "You're so annoying."

"I know. But you love me anyway."

"I do, Jude. I really, really do."

Loving Jude is going to be scary. I know that.

But this time? I'm facing my fears.

Because loving Jude is worth it all and more.