Chapter 29 #2
She gives me an incredulous look, and I shrug. “You boxed with me. I’ll do your weird woo-woo stretches and pretend they’re exercise.”
“You’re going to like it,” she insists, sunshine flooding her expression. “It feels amazing.”
“If you say so, boss.”
And what do you know? She’s right. Even if most of my enjoyment comes from the excitement she seems to get out of leading me through her pretzel maneuvers and occasionally collapsing on the floor, plus the sight of her body curved into the different forms.
Afterward, we eat granola together—the next step in Briar’s routine—and she tells me all about “Great-Aunt Sky,” who taught her yoga and drew pictures with her.
I’m glad not everyone in her childhood was an asshole, not that I’m surprised.
Someone good had to be involved in the making of this woman.
“Where does Great-Aunt Sky live?” I ask as we clean the dishes in her kitchen sink.
“In the mountains in Georgia.” A frown creases her beautiful face. “I was hoping she’d come visit this month, but it didn’t work out this year.”
“I think I’d like to meet your aunt someday.”
She gives me a look of skepticism that’s not flattering to my ego. “You don’t need to say that.”
“Obviously not, but I mean it.”
With her hands still submerged in the dishwater, she tips up on her toes and kisses me.
We go to the brewery together, and I help her take down the tinsel tree, then convince her we should donate it and get ourselves a real one next year.
“I didn’t think you’d care about Christmas trees,” she comments, giving me a sidelong glance.
“I definitely don’t care about fake ones. Real ones smell nice.”
“There are a lot of hidden depths to you, Liam.”
Ann, who came in to escape her son-in-law (her words), says, “You got debts? You should consolidate those, son. The interest payments will do a number on you.”
As the day winds down, Briar and I exchange a look, and she says, “Maybe you could stop by later. If you want to.”
Oh, I want.
It’s late evening by the time we get back to Briar’s place.
I’m surprised by the need I feel to learn more about her through her things.
While she changes in the bedroom, I stroll around the living room, studying the framed art prints on the wall, and then pause by the wooden chest next to the sectional.
It looks almost like a decorative piece, but it’s heavy and there’s nothing on top.
“What’s in this?” I ask as she emerges from the room in some flowing blue pants and a clingy white T-shirt I instantly appreciate.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” The panicked look on her face says differently.
“You secretly a drug dealer?” I tease.
She opens the lid, showing me the collection of stones, crystals, and metal wire inside.
“So you and Dottie have a secret side business peddling rocks?”
“Very funny.” She looks away. “I…I used to make a lot of jewelry. I loved it. That was my last business.”
“You kept this,” I comment, studying her. “Do you still love it?”
She rubs the spot between her eyebrows, her gaze still on the crystals. “I don’t know,” she says after a long moment. “I stopped. Or mostly stopped. It made me feel like a failure.”
“Because the business didn’t do as well as you wanted?”
She looks conflicted for a moment, but then she says, “It was doing well. The woman I worked with…I thought we were a team. Turns out she was embezzling money, and then she ran off with everything in our bank account. I didn’t even try to recover the business after that.
That’s why my dad doesn’t trust my judgment.
I should have known better than to trust her, but I wanted to trust her. ”
“So he figures you should have known she’d run off with all your money?”
“Yeah.”
“And now you’re worried that I’ll take off into the night with a sack of hops.”
“No,” she says with a soft smile. “Should I be?”
I know what she’s really asking. She wants to know if I’m going to fuck her over, like so many other people have.
I wrap my hand around her chin and lift it slightly, needing her eyes to meet mine.
“I wouldn’t intentionally hurt you. I’m on your side, no matter what.
I want to protect you and your interests.
And I have to tell you, you had no way of knowing that woman had bad intentions.
You’re not psychic, and thank God. You’re already a triple threat. ”
She lifts her eyebrows, a smile spreading across her face. “Oh, yeah?”
I run a finger across her lips. “Beautiful. Smart. And kind.”
She leans into my touch and says, “Considering other people’s feelings is a weakness. I didn’t make the rules.”
“But we make our own rules, remember?”
“We’re not very good at following them.”
I smile as I lean in and kiss her. “Maybe not, but I’ll bet you’re good at making jewelry, and it just so happens I got my sister a spectacularly shitty Christmas present. Maybe you can help me not embarrass myself. Teach me how to make something for her.”
“You don’t actually want to learn,” she quips, smiling as she says it.
“Like hell. I’ve been waiting my whole life for a beautiful woman to teach me how to do something useful.”
Her smile stretches wider. “Okay, but remember you said you wanted to learn. You have no one to blame but yourself if you don’t like it.”
“I will.” I steal another kiss. “But let’s put on Rocky II so I feel extra manly while we make jewelry.”
We watch Rocky II while Briar shows me how to wrap wire around the stones. She makes it look easy, but it is not fucking easy, and mine looks like a Macaroni Picasso a toddler would take home.
“That’s really good,” Briar says, tracing her finger over the pendant I’m trying to make.
“Look at you, lying to my face.”
She laughs. “It is good. You just got started.”
“My hands are too big for this.”
“We can fix it.”
And no shit, she gets right in and makes it look like I made something worth keeping.
“Only with a great stretch of the imagination can I say I made that,” I point out.
“We made it together,” she replies, and a warm feeling spreads through my chest. I never thought much of group projects. But maybe all those teachers who assigned them to us were onto something, because it feels good, building things with Briar.
Or maybe that’s just Briar. She’s a natural leader. A person who builds people up rather than tearing them down. The true opposite of her shithead father.
I lean in and kiss the side of her face. “You’re a good teacher. Maybe this will butter Hannah up enough that she won’t kill me.”
“We’re going to tell her about us?” she asks, her voice tremulous. “Does this mean you want to keep doing this?”
“I don’t want it to be the end of something when she gets back. I want it to be the beginning.”
“Me too,” she says with a smile that wrecks me.
She wants me too. I take a moment to revel in that before continuing:“And it may not be my place, but I don’t think you should give up something you love because you had the shit luck of having a bad friend. As you know, I’ve had some bad friends too.”
“Sure,” she says, looking pointedly at me, “and I wouldn’t give up trying to make friends because one of them wasn’t good.”
She surprises a laugh out of me. “Look at you calling me out. But you’re right. I think maybe we’re both right.”
We pack up the jewelry supplies and fall asleep on the couch together. I wake up past midnight, and she’s asleep beside me, tousled and cute. I gather her in my arms and carry her to the bed.
I’m tucking her in when her eyes flutter open. “You’re still here.”
“Is this my cue to leave?” I ask, grinning.
“No. I want you to stay. If you want—”
“I want.”
I climb into bed beside her and pull her close, my head buried into her hair and my arms wrapped around her.
“Liam, what are we doing?” she whispers, gripping my arms as if she’s afraid I’ll leave her.
“I don’t know, but I like it.” The dark interior of the apartment emboldens me to admit, “I like you, Briar Sterling.”
“I like you too,” she says, nestling closer. “So much.” And I fall asleep, feeling completely happy for the first time in a long, long while.