Olivia had had one job, one means of proving to Margot that she was in, that she was all in, and she’d blown it. Sure, she could apologize, but would Margot even care to listen?
“Do you happen to have the Coopers’ number? If not, I can give it to you.”
Maybe she could ask Margot’s dad for her new number.
Mr. Miller scrolled through his contacts and nodded. “Here you go.”
Olivia took the proffered phone and hit call, raising the phone to her ear. It rang four times before going to voicemail. She handed the phone back to Mr. Miller and shook her head. “No answer.”
“I, uh, could call the Taylor kid.” His lips twisted. “Brad?”
Brad. God, no, Brad was the absolute last person on Earth she wanted to . . . well.
Asking a favor from her ex was just about the least appealing thing she could fathom, but not as terrible as missing the rehearsal. Not showing up. Letting Margot down.
If she was going to do this, she didn’t have time to stand around debating it. If she was going to go, she needed to go now.
“It’s okay, Mr. Miller.” She hurried around the car, popping the door, and grabbing her duffel from the back seat. “But thanks, anyway.”
Mr. Miller frowned. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, already moving down the drive. She waved. “I’m sure. I’ve really got to go. Tell Mrs. Miller I said hi!”
Brad’s house, her old house, was two streets over, a ten-minute walk at a brisk pace. Olivia booked it, moving as fast as she could in a pencil skirt that kept her from being able to fully spread her legs. Her underwear were beginning to ride up, the lace chafing against the insides of her thighs while the outsides of her thighs and calves burned from this hybrid speed-walk/jog combo. Even though it was only in the midfifties, sweat dampened her hairline and the space between her boobs, leaving her sticky and gross. By the time she made it to Brad’s, she was breathless, and her hair was stuck to her neck and forehead, but she made it.
Hustling past the god-awful bass-shaped mailbox, which was definitely new, she made a beeline to the front door and pounded the side of her fist against it. “Brad.”
Her heart pounded, chest heaving with every rapid breath that burned the back of her throat. She waited less than thirty seconds and rapped her knuckles against the door, following it with a long, hard press of her thumb against the doorbell.
For a moment, she could’ve sworn she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, thundering down the stairs to the front door, but that was just blood thrumming inside her head.
Olivia whimpered and let her forehead fall forward against the front door. How stupid. It was Friday, midday. Of course Brad wasn’t answering the door. He was at work. She scrunched her eyes shut. Just like she needed to be in an hour.
For a second there, she’d honestly believed she could have everything she wanted. As if wanting badly enough could translate into having.
Olivia dragged a hand across her eyes, ruining her makeup. Not that it mattered. No one was going to see it because she wasn’t going to make it to Seattle, not on time. Showing up late was better than not showing up at all, but what would Brendon and Annie think? Lori? God, goodbye promotion, goodbye raise. And Margot?
Her heart clenched.
Olivia didn’t want to say goodbye.
She had promised. One simple thing: show up. She couldn’t even do that. With the way she’d left, how she’d left things between them, Margot might think Olivia didn’t want to show up, when that wasn’t it at all.
How ironic that the moment she decided to get out of her own way, life had to toss umpteen obstacles in her path. How the hell was that fair?
Olivia backed away from the door. Sunlight glinted off metal out of the corner of her eye. She sniffled and turned toward the side yard and—almost fell over.
The red Ford F-650 six-door pickup that she had failed to convince Brad he didn’t need—he’d had a perfectly good Ford F-150 he planned to keep—was parked in the grass beside the house. Nine feet tall and with wheel wells higher than her hips, the truck had intimidated the hell out of her to the point where she’d never even dreamed of getting behind the wheel. Why would she when she had her efficient, reasonable, reliable Subaru that could get her everywhere she needed to go?
She pinched her lips together and threw one last glance over her shoulder at the front door before crossing the yard. Her flats sank into the grass, wet blades tickling her ankles. She stopped beside the truck and held her breath as she reached up for the handle on the driver’s-side door. All she wanted was to see whether it was unlocked and—