"I'm going grocery shopping," Olivia said.

Both Cher and I looked up at her, then at each other from where we sat beside each other at the kitchen counter. "Really?" we asked in sync.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"No," we said in sync again.

"Then enjoy, bye Cher," she said, kissing her cheek before turning to me. "Bye, Miles," she whispered, pecking my lips on her way out.

"I thought your name was Ethan," Cher said, seemingly confused.

"My full name is Ethan Miles Archer, she's called me Miles since the third grade," I clarified.

"And you don't call her by her middle name?" she smirked.

"She- well, actually I don't know her middle name. What is it?" I asked.

I can't believe I don't know her middle name.

"She doesn't have one," Cher shrugged in response.

"No wonder I didn't know it," I chuckled.

"You didn't think to check your yearbooks or something?" she scoffed.

"No," I said slowly, "I did not think of that." We both laughed and then fell into a comfortable silence while eating cereal.

"I'm glad she's got you, Ethan. She deserves that," Cher nodded.

I eyed her quizzically, "I'm glad I'm there for her but uh, what do you mean she deserves that?" I asked in confusion. She deserves the world, I can't give that to her though.

"I mean, little Ethan, she's had a rough childhood," she sighed, standing up and leaving her empty dish in the sink.

"She has?" I frowned. She nodded, turning to me. "How come?"

"Well," she sighed, sitting down. I stopped eating, turning my attention to her. "You should probably finish, it's a long story," she said, eyeing my food.

"Well, we haven't got time, she'll be back soon," I said.

"Fair enough," she nodded, "So, when her parents had her, they were over the moon. Her father was, at least. But then they realized they weren't going to have time for her. I mean, they weren't planning on having a child, it just... happened. Her father got back to work within 2-3 weeks of Liv being born and her mother stayed back. For a long time. Liv's grandmother, our mom, helped a lot. I was still living in San Diego, in this neighborhood, in fact.

When Liv turned around 3 maybe 4 years old, her mom had it. She was sick and tired of being a stay at home mom and having to be a housewife. She decided to go back to work. Which was fine, nobody objected. But nobody expected Maya to completely neglect Olivia either."

I stared at her, slightly in shock.

Neglect?

"She started going into work, slowly, day by day and she started leaving Olivia with me. She would drop Olivia off at my house at about 7 in the morning. I would be the one going to drop Olivia at school, then pick her up, and then she would be with me the entire day. After dinner, and only if her parents told me they were back home, I would go and drop her off back at her place. Our mom would come and help me as well because I never have, and still don't have any clue on how to raise a child. That's why I don't have kids myself," she scoffed.

Now that I think about it, I did Cher there at school while growing up more than I saw Olivia's parents.

"And it started getting tough. She wasn't gonna grow up any faster but I had a few jobs myself. This is before the art gallery rolled around. And it started getting real difficult. I couldn't take her with me every single day. It would have been tough on her too, a kid comes home slightly tired from school, they're hungry, they want to nap, they're tired. I couldn't take her with me. I did sometimes. When our mom, my neighbors, or any of my friends couldn't babysit her. But how long could I keep asking for favors? That too for a child that isn't mine," she sighed.

I stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue.

"So when she was about 5 years old, I started leaving her home alone. It's really early to leave a kid on their own, I know that," she groaned, "But I had no other choice, get what I'm saying?"

I nodded slowly, my eyes trained on the now soggy cereal in front of me.

"So, I had to teach her how to do things around the house. She knew how to order food for herself, clean the dishes, everything she was doing on her own. I mean, for the love of God, her mother taught her to shower on her own when she was three years old. I mean, I don't know much about children but I know you don't leave a three-year-old alone in the bathroom."

We fell into a short silence.

Then she resumed, "So she kind of grew up on her own and raised herself." I looked up at her, not knowing what to say. "She grew up very lonely, Ethan. Very, very lonely. No one for her at home, no friends at school until almost freshman year when Skylar joined. I believe it was around that time. She wasn't just alone, she was lonely. It wasn't solitude, it was heartbreaking. And you, whether you know it or not, you saved her."

I blinked in confusion and surprise. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. You know, growing up she would have really low days where she would say, 'I'm never going to school again, I hate it there, nobody wants me, I don't have any friends!' and there was nothing anyone could do or say to convince her otherwise. As if kids aren't stubborn as it is," she sighed.

"And where exactly did I click into place?" I asked out of curiosity and surprise, both.

"Then there were days, almost all of them, especially after she had those days where she didn't want to go, where she would say, 'I'm going to school today, it's gonna be fun, I can't wait to annoy Miles, Miles is such an idiot, Miles is so dumb it makes me laugh' and those days are the reason she kept going to school. We stopped having to force her, she went just to annoy you, just to fight with you, just to hang out with you," Cher shrugged.

I stared down at my now empty bowl, smiling to myself. "No, she didn't," I chuckled.

"She did, I swear. Ask her about this. Just do it after I leave because she'll kill me. She hates when people talk about her, especially about what she's been through," she explained. "Ethan." I looked back up at her. "She's had horrible times growing up. I don't think you get how horrible," she paused, hesitating. "Like... suicidal horrible."

I froze. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to react. The weirdest part was, she never let it show. Any of it. She was always Oliver Twist, Olive, Olivia, the She-devil.

How did no one see it?

More importantly, how did I not see it? I've been with her since preschool. How did I not see it?

"She never tried, never did anything that stupid," she mumbled, "But she really hated her life for a long, long time. And intentionally or unintentionally, you helped her get through it all. I wanna thank you for that and just say, I hope you're always there for her. One way or another, always be in her life. As a friend, as a boyfriend, husband, whatever it is. Father of her children maybe," she chuckled. I smiled at her, moving the spoon around in the empty bowl. "She's okay now, Ethan," she said reassuringly, "She's had a tough past but she's alright now. She's got you," she nodded.

I sighed, looking up at her, "She's always had me, Cher," I smiled.

"She's a lucky girl," she chuckled.

I shook my head, standing up and leaving the bowl in the sink. "No, Cher. I'm a lucky guy."

We both turned to the front door as it opened and revealed Olivia with only a few more packs of Oreos, some chips, and some fruits and veggies. "I'm back," she sang.

Cher and I looked at each other. "She's back," we sang mockingly in sync.

"Screw you guys," she scoffed, taking the Oreos out of the bag and sliding a pack to Cher. "You don't get any for doing that," she scrunched up her nose at me.

"I don't want any Oreos," I said, walking over to her.

"He wants kisses," Cher said with Oreos stuffed in her mouth. We both stared at Cher. "Okay, Jesus, I'll take the hint," she said before going upstairs and into her room.

"Hi," I grinned.

"Hi," she smiled back, putting her arms around my neck.

"I missed you," I mumbled, hoisting her up onto the counter and standing between her legs.

"Liar," she whispered.

"Cross my heart," I replied, kissing her cheek softly.

"You seem a little extra lovey-dovey today, something you need?" she asked, pulling away to look at me.

I stared at her, my mind going back to what Cher told me. "Nothing special, I just need you," I sighed, pulling her into a hug.

She seemed confused because she hesitated but she hugged me back. "You've always got me," she chuckled.

I've always got her.

And she's always got me.

.

.

.

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Chapter 36

If you like romance books:

ALL YOUR PERFECTS BY COLLEEN HOOVER

10/10

IT'S THE SADDEST, MOST FUCKING BEAUTIFUL BOOK I'VE EVER READ