Chapter 14
fluffy mcgunnigans
Liam
Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When that doesn’t work, I do it again.
A cat. Tell me she doesn’t want a cat. Tell me the condition of my freedom, as it were, isn’t a furry, pissing, clawing menace.
I open my eyes to see hope in her eyes and determination on her face.
This is a test. It’s a fucking test. And it’s a lose-lose for me.
I’m going to end up with a fucking long-haired Persian cat named Fluffy McGunnigans and three-million-dollar vet bills or, alternately, a lawsuit for poking someone’s eye out.
She’s playing chess, offering me an option that I’d never take, and just called “Check.”
Well, two can play that game, little one. “Only if I get to name it.”
The collective gasp around my dining room communicates how little Cian and Ayla thought I would take the deal.
“Do you want to pick out your ring, or would you like me to?”
Her head jolts back. She certainly didn’t expect that question. A little shrug is followed with, “You can if you want.”
I nod. “Now please eat. You’ve pushed your food around long enough. Daddy likes your ass.”
“Gag. Oh God, no,” Ayla starts. “This just gets worse and worse. I’m out of here. Franklin has better manners than you do.” She stands, takes her plate to the sink, and returns to kiss me on the cheek. “Love you, Li,” she whispers quietly. “Even when you’re ridiculous.”
She kisses Cian and hugs Lorien. She pulls back, still holding my fiancée’s upper arms. “I like you. You’re family as long as you want to be. Come by the house for dinner sometime.” She tilts her head to me. “You can leave the brute. Or bring him and we’ll assign him baby duty.”
“I’d like that.”
“What a hardship,” I reply sarcastically.
“Liam has my number.” She turns to me. “Pass along my contact, yeah?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I salute my sister. “And bring my goddaughter back soon. Or I’ll be on your doorstep.”
“Counting on that, Liam.” She’s out the door when Cian stands. “I’d better get too. Sariah’s doing great with Wills, and she has Renée for help, but I’ve been gone a while. When are you coming by? It’s been too long.”
“Next weekend if not before.”
“Bring Lorien. Angel’s going to be pissed this all went down and she wasn’t here.”
I stare at the woman at the foot of the table, my gaze rooted to hers, but speak to my brother, “When she’s up for it, we’ll be there.”
“Make it soon.” Cian slips around the table, taking his plate and adding his and Ayla’s to the dishwasher, before slipping out the front door with another wave.
“So…” I start but don’t know where I’m going.
“Wills? Renée? Sariah?”
“Sariah is my sister-in-law.” I point to the picture on my counter that’s visible from where she sits.
“Renée is her daughter from a previous relationship.” That’s the easy explanation.
“Cian adopted her. She’s fifteen and one of my favorite people on the planet.
Wills is a few weeks younger than Sophia. ”
“Do we really need to live together?” Lorien gnaws her bottom lip while staring at her plate.
“It’s not my favorite either, but we both have two bedrooms, and appearances matter.”
The sigh that leaves her is in time with her diverting her eyes.
“What? You might as well tell me. If this is going to work, we need to be honest with each other.”
“Why would someone like you choose someone like me?”
What the fuck? I’ve more than once been shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe but having it thrown in my face in my own home is not okay.
“I’m not beneath you, sweetheart.” The last word comes out dripping with acid. “See yourself out. I’ll come find you when I’ve cooled off.” I head to my bedroom, slamming the door, and flop onto my back on the bed.
Why do people always assume the tattoos or the bike or the piercing mean my character is lacking?
Fuck them.
Fuck her.
Lorien
Well that went down like the Titanic.
That wasn’t at all what I meant.
The man is sex on a popsicle stick, great with his family, and witty to boot. His brother and sister respect him, love him, and want him around more than they already have him.
He saved me, has looked after me, and even noticed I wasn’t eating.
He’s, apparently, business savvy, or at least financially so, since he can’t be mid-thirties and has already paid off his mortgage. The fact that his siblings, who he’s obviously close with, didn’t know, says even more about his character.
I’m trying to figure out why that kind of man—the one every woman would drool over—would ever choose an average nerd who’s this socially awkward. Not in this situation, obviously. This one fell in his lap, but to the rest of the world, who would ever believe we’re real?
I wait in his kitchen until it’s obvious he isn’t going to return, find a pen and paper, and write a note.
Liam,
I’m sorry. What I said hurt you and I can’t fathom why.
Your family is incredible.
I left you the brownies. We never got around to serving them.
Lorien
I leave my number and place my plate and his in the dishwasher. I load all the glass and flatware and then wipe down the table after putting the leftovers in the fridge. His house was already clean. No sense in leaving it worse off than when I arrived.
I’m almost to the front door when I see the abandoned to-go coffee cups. I set those in the trash just outside the back door and am walking toward the front when he wanders from the back.
“I—” I toss my thumb over my shoulder. “I took out the garbage and was leaving. I didn’t leave my backdoor unlocked and didn’t want to walk all the way around.”
“Your front door is unlocked?” He scrapes a hand over his buzzed head.
I nod.
“You’re not in Peoria anymore.” He’s back to wherever he was when he was hiding, returning with a pistol that he cocks as walks down the hall. “Stay here. Let me go check it out.”
I’m stunned silent. How does he know about Peoria? He never did answer how he knew I was a doctor. There’s no such thing as clairvoyance, so how does he know?
And I haven’t been in Peoria in a long, long time. St. Louis is a far cry from slow suburban safety. I’ve done just fine on my own, thank you very much… the movers, notwithstanding, of course.
He returns, drops the pistol on the coffee table, and hands me my keys.
“Today I’m changing your locks. I’ll add a keypad lock for you just in case, but not a Wi-Fi one.
Those are too vulnerable. You can pick the code.
But when you’re home and when you leave, use the deadbolt lock.
Same goes for here. We do not need more trouble. ”
“How did you know I grew up in Peoria?” I slam my hands on my hips and stare into his still-angry gaze.
His hands fist at his sides as he looms over me, leaning down, trying to intimidate me. “I looked into you.”
I gasp. “That’s creepy. And disrespectful. And…”
“Your first day here, trouble followed you to your door. I wanted to know what to expect. Seems it was worth digging a little deeper.”
I want to slap him. I want to run. I want to fight. I want to kiss him. My eyes inadvertently drop to his lips before bouncing back up.
His eyes rove my face, and his beard twitches with his grin. “Where’s that backbone you show me so often?”
I grit my teeth but stand straighter. I wish I had a parting shot, but I can’t think of a single thing. Fudge nuggets. I slide around his hulking form and take my unmarried butt home.
When I arrive, I find a message from Dr. Patel.
Dr. Patel: Are you available to have a conversation?
Am I? My mood is sour, and I have fire in my soul. It’s probably best if I put it off. I check it again. The message came in hours ago. Sheesh.
Me: I just got home. Is now still a good time?
My phone rings, and I drop onto my sofa before answering it. “Hi, Dr. Patel. How are you?”
“I am well, Dr. Anderson. And you?”
Peachy? Hunky Dory? I’m crazy as a loon. Instead, I offer, “I can’t complain.”
“I’ve been thinking about your data.” His chair lets out a wretched squeak in the background. “I’m afraid I cannot be connected to it in any way. My Nisha would want my integrity to be irrefutable. I cannot have that in question. As much as I want the data, I must recuse myself.” My Nisha.
“That’s the nicest ‘please leave me out of this’ anyone could ever offer. And I understand. Truly I do.”
“When you win some award for all your research, please add a footnote that I loved being your advisor and always knew you’d do great things.”
Pride mixes with other emotions as tears prickle the backs of my eyes. “You are a gifted professor and researcher. There was never another choice for me. You know that, don’t you?”
“Thank you.” His lilted voice is quiet.
“Can I ask you something way off topic?”
“Yes.” The word stretches long in question.
“You had an arranged marriage, right?”
“Yes.” Another question but with less wariness in his tone.
“How did you manage your first couple of months? I’m assuming you were strangers who were stuck and needed each other but didn’t know each other.”
“You’ve watched movies and think you know.
” There’s displeasure in his voice. “It was much easier than that and much harder. Divorce was never an option. Never. We were together. We could make it terrible for each other, or we could find a way to be to one another what we needed. My Nisha and I sat down early and decided what was off limits. Things like cruelty, throwing things we could not control in each other’s faces, and talking negatively about the other to our children or parents.
Those were behaviors that were unacceptable.
We discussed what kindness looked like in our home and when we might need it most. That’s when things got hard.
We knew each other’s vulnerabilities and how to inflict the most damage, and we had to choose not to do that over and over and over again. ”
“Did it work?” My voice is a whisper.
“Yes. Eventually we didn’t have to decide, because it was second nature.
Mutual lives and similar goals became friendship and then deep-seeded respect and admiration.
Young people these days want fireworks and zero problems. They don’t understand that an inconvenience isn’t a problem.
That loving the people in your home is not just a choice, it’s the foundation of peace in life.
Quarrelsome homes are miserable for everyone. ”
“Thank you for that wisdom.”
“Why do you ask?” His tone is prodding and fatherly.
“I want to set my life up for success. And you are one of a handful of people who have the kind of life I want for myself. I need to know what it’s worth.” My voice drops, “And what it costs.”
“It cost me my pride and my right to be selfish. It cost Nisha so much more, but times were different then, and much has changed. My daughters won’t be in the same situations, even if they accept an arrangement.”
Oh. I hadn’t considered that even exists here. “Are they considering that?”
“It is customary, but their mother and I decided early on they could choose. We were fortunate, you see.”
“You were kind.”
“Ah yes, but we also had, in the other, a willing partner. This is not always the case.”
That’s the crux of it, isn’t it?
A willing partner.