Her voice is shaking with anger and I’ve never felt more disappointed in myself.
“I wasn’t think—”
“That much is obvious. But I won’t be a part of this little lineup you have. You won’t get the chance to embarrass me again, Sebastian. I’m officially removing myself from your sick little roster.”
“There is no roster! Would you just fucking listen to me?” I shout in frustration.
“You don’t get to be angry with me!” she yells right back, not missing a beat. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Unless you count trusting you.”
Her words sting, but I don’t have time to dwell on them.
“Olivia, please.” My voice is pleading. “I didn’t do anything with her. She means nothing to me.”
“She obviously means enough if you went running as soon as she called.”
“It’s not like that. I told you I felt bad.”
“Well lucky her,” comes her snide remark. “Listen, Sebastian. I have to go. Your pathetic excuses are the last thing I need to add to this shitty day. I’m jobless and homeless. I don’t really have the extra energy to deal with this at the moment.”
Her initial voicemail comes to mind and I want to know what happened. Even though I know the likelihood of her confiding in me is slim to none.
“Olivia, talk to me. What happened, baby?”
“I called to tell you all about it, but you were too busy taking a trip down memory lane to answer me. Look, I clearly misinterpreted my role in your life but I was serious when I texted you earlier. I won’t bother you again and that’s a promise. Please don’t contact me anymore, Sebastian.”
“Olivia, wait—”
She hangs up on me.
This isn’t over, Olivia.
As soon as I send the text, it bounces back with a generic message informing me that the recipient has blocked me from sending messages.
Furious, I shove everything off my nightstand. The loud crash doesn’t even register as I stand there fuming.
This cannot be the fucking end. I refuse to lose her like this.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
OLIVIA KING
One month later…
“But I don’t understand, I didn’t apply for any scholarship. There must be a mistake. I’m here to pay with a check,” I explain.
I’m standing in the middle of the accounting office at Tennessee State and while the lady in front of me is kind looking, she’s clearly confused me with some other student.
“My name is Olivia King. K-I-N-G. Maybe it’s a popular last name but I assure you I haven’t received any scholarships.”
Talking with my hands, I shuffle from one foot to another waiting for her to reevaluate her computer screen and recognize the error.
“Honey, I don’t know what to tell you; it posted to your account this morning. An anonymous donor set up the funding and you’re the only recipient in the whole school,” the gray-haired lady informs me.
The only recipient in the whole school.
It doesn’t take me long to piece two and two together and come up with Sebastian. There’s no way another stranger would feel inclined to randomly cover the cost of my education.
I’m stunned and angered by his interference all at once. He refuses to just leave me alone.
Magically, he found out about the new apartment I’ve been renting and huge bouquets of peonies arrive every other day. Each time, there’s a card attached with a straightforward message letting me know that he has no intention of giving up on us.
The same day I’d received my acceptance letter to nursing school, a brand new car was delivered to my doorstep. Not just any car — a shiny, red BMW with a bow on the hood to be exact. Upon opening the driver’s side door, balloons with the word “Congrats” written all over them floated up into the air.
As stunned as I was by the gesture, I haven’t driven it once.
No amount of expensive gifts can make me forget the pain he caused me. At least that’s what I tell myself. I’ve been second guessing my decision so much lately.
What if I overreacted because of the shitty day I was having? Sebastian had no reason to lie. Was he really telling the truth?
It doesn’t matter. It’s over.
“The scholarship covers your tuition for every semester, as well as a book stipend. So make sure you come back a week before school and we’ll cut you a check so you can buy your books,” she continues to go on and on, knocking me out of my reverie.
Numb, I thank the woman and turn just as she tells me congratulations.
A thank you doesn’t fall from my lips because I’m too busy rustling through my bag to find my phone.
This is enough. I’m calling Sebastian to get to the bottom of all this.