Olivia

 

Seven weeks later.

 

T-minus seventeen days until Seth VS. Don

 

I squeeze the ceramic toilet bowl in my arms. This is the third time in my life that I’ve fallen victim to Selena’s chicken stir-fry. Food poisoning. It gets me every time she cooks it and as luck would have it, I’m the only one in the house who doesn’t have an iron stomach. Selena, Seth, Jackson, Darryl and his wife ate it, but it seems I was the only one who got the dodgy pieces. The only reason I ate it was because Seth and I are on lock down and have been for weeks. I was growing tired of his macho, get lean and mean meals. My stomach rolls and I quickly tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I gag. I gag again. I gag until I can’t breathe and my throat burns. Then, my stomach stills and the urge to vomit leaves me. I release the bowl and slump against the bathroom wall, completely exhausted. Strange, considering I woke up less than an hour ago. I drop my head onto my knees and close my eyes. I hate being sick. I hate being sick more than anything in the world. You don’t realize how healthy you are until you’re feeling unwell.

 

“O?” Selena calls from my bedroom. “You all right?”

 

I don’t call back. I’m scared that if I make one small movement, my stomach is going to escape through my mouth. There’s a small knock on the bathroom door and I groan my ‘come in’. Even I’ll admit that it sounded more like a seal dying than a human giving permission for another to open the door.

 

“How are you holding up?” she asks, her voice filling an otherwise silent bathroom.

 

“I hate you,” I grumble, not lifting my face.

 

She laughs. “I don’t know what to say, O. Stay away from my stir fry if you can’t handle it.”

 

The words ‘stir fry’ make me cringe. I never, ever want to eat any variation of it again.

 

“Do you mind if I chill in here for a little while? Jackson is here and I don’t really want to see him today.”

 

I nod. This has to be the worst room in the house to hide in, especially when someone is throwing up last night’s dinner and stomach acid, but hey, it’s her choice. There’s a routine Selena and Jackson follow every few days. He comes over. They talk. They have sex. He comes (literally). They argue. He leaves. He’s here so that means it’s ‘fuck’ day. My stomach churns at the thought. I’m really starting to regret the arrangement we have with Selena… and the amount of arguments Seth and Jackson have had between the two of them is ridiculous.

 

I think Seth is also going mad being locked up in here all the time. He never leaves and because of the whole ‘Don’ issue, he even trains at home. The living room is a mess, filled with weights, treadmills, jump ropes, barbells, boxing gloves and other weird shaped gloves—our house has become a gym and Seth has established his own routine. Sex. Train. Eat. Sex. Train. Eat. More Sex. Don’t rinse, just repeat. He’s so caught up in his routine he doesn’t seduce me into sex anymore. He gives me this look… this sexy, dark look from under his brow that says ‘clothes off’ and away we go. He’s aggressive and moody, and he has been for the last four weeks. He does tend to change a little in the lead up to a big fight so I won’t hold it against him. I only hope that when it’s all over, I get my Seth back, the Seth I married—the one who’s charming, sweet, passionate and caring.

 

“Olivia,” Seth calls through the wooden door, pulling me from my own thoughts.

 

Exhaling, I lift my head and let it fall back against the wall. Selena sits against the cupboards under the bathroom sink. Her blonde curls are tied up in a cute, messy bun on the top of her head and she pulls her fluffy dressing gown around her shoulders more.

 

“What’s the time?” I ask Selena and she retrieves her phone from the inside pocket.

 

“Eight.”

 

I sigh. “Seth has finished training and he’ll want a shower.”

 

Wow. His routine has gotten so extensive I actually know the times of his showers.

 

Selena raises her palms to me and rises to her feet. “Say no more. I’ll go hide out in another room until Jackson leaves.”

 

“I’ll be down in a minute. Maybe I can scare Jackson off with my deathly pale face,” I tell her, and with an uneasy smile she exits the bathroom, letting Seth in.

 

I stay seated against the wall, watching while Seth pulls his sweatshirt over his head. It’s three shades darker than it was when he put it on and all the sweat it holds makes it fall quickly to the floor as he lets it go. My sight rakes over his back as he turns his body in my direction. I wait patiently, trying to decipher which Seth I’m going to be dealing with this morning.

 

“Feeling any better?”

 

I think about his question. My stomach no longer hurts, my throat no longer burns, but I still feel lethargic.

 

“I’m feeling a lot better now that I’ve thrown up all of Selena’s chicken.”

 

Seth laughs and extends his large hand to me. I glance at it, but hesitate taking it. Seth frowns.

 

“I’m scared that if I stand up… I might throw up everywhere,” I confess, pulling my knees into my chest.

 

“I’ll help you. Go slow.”

 

I take in his sweet demeanor, confused. “Why do I need to get up?”

 

“Because I’m going to shower you. It’ll make you feel better.”

 

Strange. Seth has taken all of his showers alone since training at home. When I asked Darryl about Seth and the way he’s acting, he assured me it’s all part of Seth’s ‘mental preparation’.

 

“What’s wrong, Olivia?” he asks, his hand still outstretched.

 

“We haven’t showered together in weeks,” I remind him. “Are you sure you want—”

 

“I want to shower together this morning.” His voice is low and commanding. “Give me your hand.”

 

Without a second thought, I slip my hand into his and he brushes a rough thumb over the back of it as he pulls me to my feet. I sway minutely and he pauses, waiting to see if he needs to bend me back over the toilet bowl. Thankfully, my stomach stays in its place. Seth grips the hem of my shirt before tugging it over my head. In the cool morning air, my nipples harden and my skin bubbles with goosebumps. Seth takes in my breasts and their hardened peaks and opens his mouth.

 

“I—”

 

“If you say a single nipple joke I swear to God I’m going to hit you where it hurts.”

 

He closes his mouth and turns his attention to his drawstring pants. I knew it! I knew he was going to say a nipple joke. One by one he pulls at the strings while I make quick work of my underwear and toss them aside. I step past Seth and into the shower. Seth likes his showers hot so I turn the handles. Eighty percent hot tap and twenty percent cold tap. Personally, I prefer cooler temperatures, where it flickers between warm and cold. I stay out of the way of the hot stream, wetting only a sponge and adding a drop of pomegranate body wash. Seth says he hates my fruit scented shower gel, but I think he secretly likes it. We’ve been together for a while now and I haven’t seen him replace it yet.

 

Seth comes into the shower and immediately soaks his large frame underneath the steady flow of water. He tilts his head back, letting the water run over his face and down his body.

 

A few minutes pass and he glances at me over his shoulder. I stand on the sidelines with my soaped up sponge, just waiting for him to let me know if he wants my help. Droplets of water roll off the sharps edges of his face before dripping onto his chest.

 

“Are you all right?” I hear the concern in his voice, and although Seth has been a little distant and obnoxious, he’s always been protective and concerned about me. That hasn’t changed.

 

I nod. “I’m just staying out of your way.”

 

His naturally well-shaped eyebrows pull together. “Why?”

 

He steps out of the shower and closer to me. His body is a slight shade of pink from the hot water and even a shade so feminine looks great on him.

 

I shrug, dropping my stare to the floor. “You’ve been different lately. Distant and hard to handle…I don’t know what you want.”

 

“What I want is still the same,” he tells me, hooking a finger under my chin and drawing me closer. “Bear with me, O. Once this is over, I’ll be back to normal, I promise.”

 

I nod again and hold the promise close to my heart. Seth takes the sponge from my hands.

 

“Turn around.”

 

Doing as I’m told, I turn around and give him my back. He shifts my hair out of the way and presses the sponge to my shoulder. I almost moan aloud as he circles my left shoulder blade and then my right. I lean forward, resting my forehead against the cold tiles.

 

“It’s good to know my Seth is still in there somewhere,” I murmur as he follows my spine with the sponge.

 

“I’m still here,” he responds, brushing my hair away from my neck. “I’m under a lot of pressure, but I’m still here.”

 

I smile. That’s all I need to hear.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

Seth

 

 

 

 

 

“Wow.” Jackson announces from the couch as Olivia and I walk down the stairs. “Selena’s cooking really did a number on you.”

 

Jackson’s eye has healed up completely and the only thing giving away the fact he’s been back to Lucky’s is the cut across the bridge of his nose. I’m curious to see if he can still fight—if he’s as good as I remember.

 

“Shut up, Jackson,” Selena snaps from the kitchen.

 

Olivia leans most of her weight against me, but I don’t mind. She doesn’t weigh much. She insisted on climbing back into bed, but I managed to convince her that being out of the dark room and with her friends would make her feel better. I forgot that her friends currently hate each other and make every second you’re around them a living hell. This is why you don’t fuck people in the same social circle. It gets weird and makes everyone uncomfortable. I think if you’re going to set up any rules in regards to friendships that should be one of them. There’s a thought, if I quit fighting I could always make those quote plates that people stick on their cars. You know the ones that say ‘honk if you’re horny’ or ‘my other car is a BMW’. Mine will say, ‘If you want to join my social circle, don’t bang my friends. Shit gets REAL weird, REAL quick’. If only I could go back in time and slap Jackson’s hands away from Selena… that would save the present me so much stress and time.

 

“You’ve never had a problem with my cooking, Jackson,” Selena adds.

 

“You’ve cooked twice and both times we had to leave and get take out.”

 

As I walk Olivia to the couch and lay her down, Selena storms from the kitchen with her eyes narrowed in on Jackson. His lips twitch as she snaps at him. I have no idea what she’s saying—when Selena gets mad she talks too fast. Add a frustrated Jackson to the mix and you’ve got a loud mess no one can understand.

 

“Enough!” I shout, making everyone in the room jump. “Olivia is sick. If you want to fight, do it somewhere else.”

 

They shut their mouths immediately.

 

Olivia rests her feet on Jackson’s lap and he moves his hand before placing it on her ankles. The gesture is too casual for my liking, especially when his thumb brushes over the ball of her ankle. He’s protective of Olivia, too and I know he doesn’t mean anything by it. Jackson is my loyalist friend and would never betray my trust, but Olivia is my wife. I should be the one to comfort her when she’s ill, not someone like Jackson, who—let’s face it—doesn’t deserve to touch someone as sweet as her.

 

I step forward and grab Olivia’s legs, holding them off of Jackson. “I don’t think so, Jacks.”

 

With a smirk, he slips from the seat and I take his place. I grab Olivia’s knees and pull her down more until her legs completely drape over me and her ass is against my thigh.

 

“Better?” she teases, shaking her head at me.

 

“Much better.” I smile, dropping my hands to her legs as Jackson settles in the arm chair on the other side of the room.

 

I like him over there, where he isn’t influencing my wife and making her breathless. She claims she likes the ‘passion’ that Selena and Jackson have, but I saw the desire in her eyes when she saw them against the car in the desert. She likes Jackson’s intensity, his aggressiveness. I’d be jealous of him if I wasn’t, well, me. Jackson Quinn is badass, but he’s no Seth Marc. I clear my throat and make a quick mental note to never refer to myself in third person again.

 

“You two have a lot of sex,” Selena states, slinging a tea towel over her shoulder. “Maybe you’ve knocked her up.”

 

My entire body goes rigid and I feel Olivia’s body do the same. I look at Olivia, who’s glaring at Selena.

 

“Or maybe your cooking is just shit, Sel,” she replies with all of the confidence in the world. It relaxes me. Women know their bodies better than anyone… right?

 

We spoke about children in the bath briefly a while ago and I want kids with her, but I decided I don’t want kids right now. I glance at Jackson, who’s watching me intently. There’s no emotion on his face, but I know what he’s trying to say to me; ‘she better fucking not be’. I give him a subtle shake of my head and he imperceptibly relaxes back into his chair. I don’t know why I felt the need to assure him she isn’t pregnant. It’s none of his Goddamn business. Both Jackson and Darryl are scared of my relationship with Olivia. They’re worried she’ll ruin everything we’ve worked so hard for. They don’t give her the respect she deserves. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be where I am. It was her that spurred me on when I didn’t want to continue. It was her that picked me up after my fight with Don.

 

“Now that I think about it,” Jackson says. “I feel a little off as well.”

 

Selena whips her towel off, bunches it up in her small hands and throws it at him. Her blonde bun tied up on the top of her head sways as she archs up. “You’re talking shit, Jackson. You loved my stir fry.”

 

He shrugs. “Maybe I only said that to get in your pants.”

 

He laughs and looks at me for validation, but I’m not stupid. I don’t willingly stick myself inside Selena and Olivia’s kill circle. He’s an idiot who lacks the self-preservation gene.

 

“Screw you, asshole.” Selena whips around on her heel and disappears.

 

“Way to go, jerk,” Olivia snaps at Jackson. She attempts to swing her legs off me and gets up to follow Selena, but I drop the weight of my arms on her legs, preventing her from leaving. “Stay out of it,” I warn her.

 

Her gorgeous green eyes flare at me, daring me to try and stop her. I look at Jackson and don’t say a word. A second later, he exhales and pushes off of the couch. “Fine.” He runs the palms of his hands over his shirt, straightening out the green fabric. “I’ll go sort it out.”

 

When he leaves the room, it becomes silent and awkward. Olivia fiddles with a rogue string on the sleeve of her hoodie—my hoodie, actually.

 

“You feel normal?” I ask, after a few painful minutes.

 

She nods. “As normal as one can be with food poisoning.”

 

“Good.” I run the palm of my hand up her leg and back down again. “I don’t need a distraction like that right…” I swallow. “I don’t think I could handle it at this point in my career.”

 

I haven’t told Olivia that I changed my mind about quitting the MMAC. It’s been months, but I was waiting for the right opportunity to break it to her. She hasn’t exactly been the greatest person to live with these past few weeks either, making it a lot harder to be open with her. I think being locked up in here is making her feel a little trapped, and I know she’s looking forward to me quitting, though she’d never admit it. Avoiding eye contact with me, she nods her head.

 

“Right. I’d hate to put you out by growing a baby inside of my belly and birthing it out of my vagina. I’m sure that would make things very hard for you.”

 

I drop my head back against the couch. “That’s not what I meant, Olivia, and you know it.”

 

She exhales, shaking her head. “I don’t even know why I said that. We shouldn’t fight over something that isn’t happening.”

 

Olivia pulls her legs from me, sits up, and rises to her feet. “But if it does happen one day, I hope you remember everything you said to me in the bath… there are a lot of things in this world I can handle, but lies aren’t one of them.”

 

“I would never lie to you.”

 

“I hope so,” she replies over her shoulder as she strolls towards the stairs. I watch her back as she drags herself slowly up the steps and disappears behind the bedroom door.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

Olivia

 

 

 

 

 

I can’t resist a glance at Seth as I pass him on the way to the bathroom. He lies on the bed facedown with his entire back exposed. His black sweatpants sit low on his hips, almost revealing the tempting curve of his ass. The room is dark—to be expected for ten p.m., I suppose. After I left Seth on the couch this morning, I came back to our room and had a nap. When I woke up, all traces of nausea, exhaustion, and cramps were gone. It’s good to know Selena’s poison didn’t linger too long in my body.

 

“I can feel you staring,” Seth speaks into the pillow. “Do you like what you see?”

 

“If you’re referring to the way you’re just lying there, not saying a word, then yes.”

 

He rises up on his elbows and I quickly dip into the bathroom and lock the door before he gets a retort in. Seth hates not getting the last word. Smiling, I open the shower door and flick on the water. Then, I hook my fingers around the hem of my sweatpants and push them to the floor. The jets quickly fill the bathroom with steam, making my lungs fill heavy and warm. I’m happier now nausea isn’t weighing down my stomach, and the fact that Seth has decided to continue with his career doesn’t bother me. It’s not my call to make and I’ll support him no matter what he chooses to do. I just hope that although his mind changes, his promises don’t.

 

I pull my shirt over my head and throw it to the side. I’m dying for another shower. Even though I slept all day, the oil on my skin feels heavy and gross. I step into the stream and inch the cold taps until the steam ceases to bellow from the water. I turn and tip my head back, letting the water collide with my scalp and wash away today’s problems. As the water beats steadily on my head, I lean sideways and reach out for the shampoo. Suddenly, a jet of water directly collides with my nipple and it freaking hurts! I wince and clasp my hands to my chest, turning my body away from the shower. My nipples tingle, sending a radiating sensation through my body. Sickness in the morning… nipple sensitivity… I recall my high school Health Ed classes and my entire being stills as all sounds fall into the distance. Oh no. No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. In my head, I try to count how many days it’s been since my last period. I take my pill regularly… that’s, after I forget and have to catch up. Though I take my pills late sometimes… that doesn’t mean it becomes less effective, right? I can hear Selena’s voice in my head. ‘You gotta treat your pill instructions like your bible. Read that shit every morning—make sure you follow every rule, note every important instruction and pray to God that it all works out.’ That’s awfully rich coming from her. One, she doesn’t own a bible. Two, she skipped every religion class in elementary and high school, and three, well, she doesn’t believe in anything she can’t drink, wear, or put on her face. The doctor told me ‘take one at the same time every day. If you miss it, you have 24 hours to catch up.’ Alcohol also reduces the effectiveness… but I figured Selena drinks like a camel, so what are the odds of my pill failing before hers? I lean against the glass, still cupping my own breasts. Maybe you’re just reading too much into this… Your breasts hurt just before you get your period, too. The thought would offer comfort if I knew when I was due for my period exactly.

 

“Just wait it out,” I whisper to myself. I run my hands over my face and tuck my wet hair behind my ears as I expel a short breath. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

 

I grab the shampoo, turn my back to the harsh jets, and finish off my shower, mindlessly scrubbing my body and ignoring any thought that passes through my head.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

In the dark, I slide my feet along the carpet to feel for abandoned pieces of clothing or shoes. Tripping in the dark isn’t fun, especially when your room is filled with glass tabletops and random ceramic ornaments. You’d think they’d take all of their breakables out when they hear Seth is coming to town.

 

Not far away, I hear his steady breathing and it sends guilt swirling in my stomach. It’s the kind of guilt that eats at your stomach lining and feels like there are rocks in your intestines. Even though I’ve done nothing wrong, I feel like I’m hiding something from him… like all of the thoughts I had in the shower were behind his back and he wouldn’t approve. My toes glide against the edge of the bed and I hunch forward, reaching for the mattress with my hands. I slide myself into bed on my belly, like a quiet seal. Rolling onto my back, I use my feet to slide the satin sheets out from underneath my ass. I move as little as I can as I grip the edge of the sheet and cover my body in the smooth fabric. Sleeping in your underwear is an amazing idea when you have sheets as silky as these. I turn away from Seth, curling up into a ball. I don’t hold him while he sleeps… in fear of him smelling my thoughts. Not a second later, his large body shifts in my direction. I hold my breath, hoping—praying—he doesn’t wake up. For the first time ever, I cringe as his hard arms circle me and drag me in to him. I breathe him in—he smells amazing.

 

“Not in the mood for snuggling tonight?” he asks and I can sense the smile on his lips.

 

He’s warm—incredibly warm—and it soaks into my skin, heating my organs. I press against him. “I thought you were asleep.”

 

Not a complete lie.

 

He squeezes me tighter against his body, letting his thumb brush over my flimsy bed bra. His thumb brushes my nipple and I grit my teeth. The sensitivity is too much to bear. It’s almost painful. It hardens immediately and I’m sure he can easily feel it through the ultra-thin lace fabric.

 

“Without you? Nah.”

 

My lips twitch as he kisses my head once. Twice. Three times. When he’s done, he nestles his head against the back of mine, burying his nose into my damp hair. “God, you smell good,” he murmurs, breathing hot air onto my scalp.

 

His hands drop to my tummy and he runs the rough palm of his hand up and down, hesitating at my panty line, before returning to my ribs. His touch makes my skin prickle, yearning to feel it all over my chest—between my legs. He does it over and over for a few minutes, almost lulling me into dreamland. Then, his hand stills and grows marginally heavier.

 

“Seth?” I mutter. I squeeze my eyes shut suddenly hoping I don’t get a response.

 

“Hm.” His chest vibrates against my back, waking every cell in my body. I feel them gravitate toward him, trying to pull his body into mine.

 

Dammit. Here goes nothing.

 

“We’re in this together, right? For the long haul, I mean.”

 

“Absolutely.” He pauses and the air becomes tense. “Why? What’s wrong?” His voice is loud and awake—all traces of sleepiness gone.

 

“Nothing… I’m just thinking about what Selena said.”

 

He exhales and shifts on the bed, pulling his arms away from me as he rolls onto his back. He takes the warmth with him and I place my hand on his hip just to feel it again.

 

“Selena talks just to hear her own voice, you know that better than anybody.”

 

“I know, but what if—”

 

“Look, if you’re that worried, take a pregnancy test and see for yourself. You’ve been taking your pill. I’ve seen you do it.”

 

I roll towards him with more confidence to talk about the ‘issue’. “And if the test is positive? What happens then?”

 

Another long, tense pause fills the room and I hate it. “It won’t be.”

 

“But what if—”

 

“Goodnight, Olivia,” he interrupts, rolling his body away from me. The disappearance of his body mixes with the darkness of the room and if I didn’t know any better, I’d assume I was alone in here… it sure feels like it. Weight settles on my chest and I inhale in an attempt to clear it. No such luck. Weeks ago, this kind of conversation was welcomed… then he went and saw the MGM arena with Darryl and all doors that lead to children and progressing as a family have been locked and the key hidden under a rock that I can’t locate. It’s conversations like these that make me worry about him… about the promises he’s made.

 

Trust. At the end of the day, I have to trust Seth. He’s my husband… I’m the girl he chose to spend the rest of his life with. I have to trust that no matter how this pans out, he’ll be there the whole way supporting me like he’s always promised. He’ll support me like I support him… I know he will.

 

Tomorrow I’ll take a pregnancy test and get this over and done with.

 

It’ll be all right… we’ll be all right.