I choose me.

Part 19: It didn't freak me out

Too early, it was too early. She hated how much of an early riser she was. Her mouth tasted like old cake and cotton balls, still a little woozy, she leaned up and saw it was only nine o'clock. Water was first, then she went into the bathroom and turned the taps on in the jumbo shower and leaned up against the cool, smooth black tiles, letting the hot water beat down onto her body. She was just grabbing the soap when her last conversation with Crawford surfaced in her mind and she started shaking. He loved her, he wanted to marry her. Marriage. Something that had never felt right, something she never thought was for her, but when Crawford had mentioned it she saw that white dress, the wedding cake, the honeymoon. But all that joy gave her a deep rolling pit in the bottom of her stomach, that's all Benny had wanted, her to be his wife, but whenever he mentioned it, it always felt so scary and wrong, all he did was love her so much, so loyal and dedicated to her, her protector. She began to feel nauseous so she got out and went dripping wet to the toilet and threw up last night's party.

She cleaned up the mess, dried off and quietly dressed, then went downstairs without waking him. Orange juice sounded good and he had a big bottle in the fridge. That is how he found her, hair in a towel and sitting against the dishwasher with an empty OJ glass. He was freshly showered wearing just jeans, he looked down at her. "Are you okay?" She simply nodded. "Look I didn't mean to freak you out with what I said last night, but I meant it." He said it gently and poured himself some juice.

"It didn't freak me out, which is what is freaking me out." He sat on the ground across from her. "All Benny wanted to do was marry me, always, he'd been asking me since the day we were both eighteen but I never would. It always felt impossible and scary, then when you said that, I expected it...when you said that-"

"And it didn't?"

She shook her head and the towel fell off her hair and into her lap, she set it aside.

"Which then strangles me with guilt, he just loved me you know, so much. I'm sorry to talk about him to you, I just—all he wanted was me—to love me, to love him—to be his wife, and I never could, after fifteen years I couldn't and I've known you for two damn seconds and now it just sounds...so nice." She saw him try not to smile.

"Sometimes things aren't a good fit, regardless of time or love."

She picked at her cuticles, "You shouldn't love me Crawford, it's messy and I'm crazy and I'd be no good as a wife."

"How do you know?"

"You're so good and whole and nice and relaxed and I'm the polar opposite of that."

"Are you trying to talk me out of caring about you?" He chuckled.

"Maybe a little." She said sadly.

"Stop okay? Like I told you, I needed to say it, no expectations of a return, I can't tell you how to feel about it, or your ex or your past."

"I'm not asking you to!" She exclaimed. He held up his hands, waving the white flag.

"I'm not fighting with you Olivia." She took in a deep breath and looked down "Why don't we go to the gym?" They did shoulders and abs, grabbed a raw juice for lunch and showered together, 'made the bed', then it was time for him to take her to the airport.

"This really was the best birthday present ever." He kissed her forehead.

"I'm glad I came." They kissed goodbye and she went through security and walked to her gate, stomach still in knots. The whole plane ride home her mind was going a million miles an hour, replaying so many things, trying to make sense of anything. Andrew picked her up from the airport. "April 29th." He clapped, she just glared at him. "What?"