CHAPTER 153: CHAPTER 153

Olivia’s POV

I was at home, having the best time of my life.

For the first time in like forever, I was doing something I enjoy doing so much - watching the newest episodes of my favorite romantic comedy series. This time, Mitchell was curled up on my lap, staring at the TV like she could understand what was going on.

This was something I’d been postponing for weeks because of stress, exhaustion, and the general chaos of working for my crazy boss. But today - blessed, beautiful today - I’d come home early (thanks to Maxwell), and I finally had time for my favorite movie.

Next on my list was a horror movie I’d seen on TikTok. I needed to watch a trick or two from it so I could use on Maxwell.

I stared down at my beautiful Mitchell. She was getting used to staying alone now, I’d noticed. As long as she had her toys, her treats, her position by the window, and her food puzzle that kept her entertained, she seemed content. Though she still gave me the cold shoulder for the first ten minutes whenever I came home, just to remind me that abandonment was unacceptable.

"You’re such a drama queen," I told her, scratching behind her ears as the show’s credits rolled. "Just like your dad."

Mitchell meowed in response, which I chose to interpret as agreement.

After the show ended, I’d had a deep, peaceful, glorious sleep.

I woke up at 6 PM feeling refreshed and really hungry. My period was still making its presence known with occasional cramps, but the pain medication was working, and It felt good to be free of pain.

You know what? I’m going to make dinner.

I hadn’t cooked a proper meal since starting at Wellington & Sons. It had been all takeout, microwaved leftovers, and Kira’s cooking.

But tonight, I had time, and energy.

I pulled out ingredients, mentally planning the menu. Pasta, with homemade marinara sauce, garlic bread, and maybe a salad if I was feeling ambitious.

Mitchell supervised from the counter, where she sat.

"You’re not helping," I told her as she knocked a cherry tomato onto the floor for the third time.

She just stared at me with those green eyes, completely unapologetic.

I was just finishing up, when my phone started ringing from where I’d left it on the counter.

I glanced at the caller ID and groaned in frustration.

Mom.

"No," I told the phone. "Not tonight. I’m having a good day. Don’t ruin this."

The phone kept ringing.

Mitchell looked at me, then at the phone, then back at me, as if to say, Are you going to answer that or what?

"If I don’t answer, she’ll show up here by midnight," I muttered, reaching for the phone. "She’s more than capable of doing that."

I picked up on the third ring, bracing myself. "Hi, Mom."

"Olivia! Finally! I’ve been trying to reach you!"

"I was at work."

"How’s Kira doing?"

I blinked, surprised by the question. Mom didn’t usually ask about Kira first. "Kira’s... fine? Why?"

"Good, good. I need both of you to be available for lunch on Sunday. Two o’clock. Don’t be late."

Suspicion immediately crept in. I knew that tone. That was Mom’s "I’m planning something" tone.

"Mom," I said slowly, "are you trying to set Kira and me up with the neighbor’s sons again? Because I told you, that’s never happening."

"I tried that before and you refused, remember?" Mom said dismissively. "This is different."

"Then why are you suddenly requesting a family lunch out of the blue? You never do this unless..."

"Kennedy is visiting from London," she interrupted, and the excitement in her voice was clear as day. "He arrives Saturday night, and I want all my children together for Sunday lunch. Is that so wrong?"

I froze.

"Kennedy?" I repeated, still in shock. "My brother Kennedy? Your son Kennedy? That Kennedy?"

"How many Kennedys do we know, Olivia?"

"Oh my God!" I shrieked, causing Mitchell to jump off the counter and glare at me reproachfully. "Kennedy is coming home? After how many years?"

"Three years," Mom said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "Since his wedding."

His wedding. The memory flooded back - Kennedy in his suit, looking so happy and nervous as he married Phoebe, the love of his life. I’d attended with David back then, before everything had fallen apart between us. It had been a beautiful ceremony, full of hope and joy and promises of future family gatherings.

But then Kennedy and Phobe had moved to London for his job, and visits had become rare phone calls, which had become occasional texts, which had become... silence.

"I can’t believe he’s actually coming home," I said, my excitement bubbling over. "Is he bringing Phoebe? Oh my God, I need to buy her a gift. Does she still like those fancy teas? Or..."

"He’s visiting," Mom said carefully, not quite answering my question. "That’s all I know. Now, Sunday at two. Don’t be late. And make sure Kira comes too."

"Of course! I’ll tell her right now..."

"Good. I have to go, I’m making arrangements. Love you, sweetheart."

She hung up before I could respond, leaving me standing in my kitchen with a huge grin on my face.

Kennedy was coming home.

My brother - the one who’d taught me how to ride a bike, who’d beaten up my first boyfriend when he’d been mean to me, who’d helped me move into my first apartment, who’d been my favorite person before life and distance had pulled us apart - was finally coming home.

I was still smiling at this wonderful news when I heard the key turning in the lock.

"Kira!" I ran to the door as she walked in, dropping her bag on the floor with a tired sigh. "Kira, you’ll never believe... my brother is coming home! Kennedy! From London! And Mom wants us both there for lunch on Sunday and..."

I stopped mid-sentence, when I finally noticed Kira’s expression.

She’d gone stiff, her face looking emotionally drained. Her shoulders slumped, her usual bright energy suddenly vanishing.

"Kira? What’s wrong?"

She walked past me into the living room, collapsing onto the couch without even taking off her shoes. "I’m not going."

"What? To the lunch? But..."

"I’m not going, Liv." Her voice was flat. "You can go see your brother. That’s fine. But count me out."

I sat down next to her, trying to read her expression. There was something there - pain, maybe, or old hurt that had never quite healed.

And then it clicked.

"Kira," I said softly, "do you still have feelings for Kennedy? After all this time?"

She didn’t answer, just stared at the wall with that same blank expression.

"He’s married, Kira. Happily married. To Phoebe. You know this."

"Is he bringing her?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "His wife. Is he bringing her to the lunch?"

I hesitated. "Mom didn’t mention his wife. She just said Kennedy was visiting."

Kira closed her eyes, and I saw her jaw clench. "I really don’t want to go, Liv. Please don’t make me."

My heart broke a little for my best friend. I’d known about her feelings for Kennedy - how could I not? She’d confessed them to him years ago, right before his wedding, in what had to be one of the worst-timed declarations of love in history.

Kennedy had rejected her. He’d explained that he loved Phoebe, and while he cared about Kira as a friend, that’s all they could ever be.

And Kira had smiled, said she understood, attended the wedding anyway, and then quietly broken apart in private.

"You can’t keep hiding from him forever," I said gently, taking her hand. "Yes, you confessed your feelings and he rejected you. Yes, it hurt like hell. But that shouldn’t be the end of the world. He’s still my brother, and you’re still my best friend, and eventually, you’re going to have to be in the same room together."

"What if I see him and all those feelings come rushing back?" she whispered. "What if I can’t handle it?"

"Then you’ll handle it anyway," I said firmly. "Because you’re my Kira, and you’re strong as hell. You can handle one awkward lunch with your best friend’s brother."

"It’s not the same," she said, but I could see her resolve weakening.

"Plus," I added, playing my trump card, "Mom’s cooking. You know you can’t resist her cooking. She’s probably making that lamb dish you love. Are you really going to miss that?"

Kira’s lips twitched - just barely, but it was there. "That’s playing dirty."

"I play to win." I bumped my shoulder against hers. "Come on. It’s just lunch. A few hours. You can sit on the opposite end of the table from Kennedy if you want. I’ll run interference. And afterward, we’ll come home, eat ice cream, watch terrible movies, and never speak of it again if you don’t want to."

She finally opened her eyes and looked at me. "You promise? You’ll stay with me the whole time?"

"I promise. I won’t leave your side. And if it gets too uncomfortable, we’ll fake a work emergency and bail. Deal?"

Kira sighed deeply, then nodded. "Fine. I’ll go. But I’m holding you to that emergency exit strategy."

"Deal." I pulled her into a hug.