Chapter 7: Olive's POV
I'd found a reasonable place to have coffee not long after, tucked into a corner of the hotel café, nursing lukewarm coffee and debating whether my life had always been this much of a trainwreck or if it was a recent development.
Spoiler: it was recent.
Three days in Chicago, and I'd already been mistaken for a creative director, cornered by the hottest hockey player alive, offered some mysterious deal I'd been smart enough to refuse, and spent every waking moment trying not to think about said hockey player's bare chest and wet dreams.
I was doing great.
The café was quiet—thank God—just the soft hum of espresso machines and the occasional clink of dishes. I'd needed this. Space to think. To breathe. To figure out what the hell I was doing with my life.
And th
