Chapter 46
whiskey balls
Lorien
“Well, who was that?” Mom asks as I exit the car. She gestures toward Strider’s truck, remembering too late her arm doesn’t do what she wants. She groans a bit and glowers at her wrist.
“Are you okay?” I round the hood and wrap an arm around her shoulders.
“No. I’m annoyed and hurting. You have a black eye, and I only have twenty-four hours left with you. For heaven’s sake, your sister is married,” she stresses the last word. “We have things to do, and you avoided my question.”
“The brewery downtown. They were checking on me after last night. Now let’s go bake. Tell me about this new lemon recipe you found.” I’m straight up lying to my own mom and then diverted. I didn’t do that as a teenager.
“They’re round shortbread cookies with a whipped filling—like lemon curd, but airier—dolloped in the center.”
“That sounds delicious.” Another lie. What is going on with me?
I blame the sex.
And my sexy neighbor growling.
And Sam for deciding she needed a husband on what’s becoming one of the most stressful weekends of my life.
Sure… blame your sister. That’s rich. You have a husband, too, and you’ve omitted that all weekend long. At least Sam is owning her truth.
“Well?” Strider asks when we walk through the door. Mom looks between the two of us and wanders toward the kitchen, muttering under her breath about my call with the bar’s management.
My brother quirks his brows and shakes his head like he’s disappointed in me, but the grin on his face indicates something different. “Tsk tsk, little sister. Look at you lying to our poor mother. Over a man.”
I put my hand over his mouth. “Hush. Do not say a word. I’m trusting you with this.”
He laughs as he pulls out of my grasp. “Oh, Mom.”
“Strider,” I call running after him. “Strider!”
“Yes, love.” Mom pops around the corner.
“Lorien says you’re baking.” He rubs his hands together. “Can we have chocolate chip cookies? His eyes do the thing that the orange tabby cat does in Shrek where they go all puddly soft and beg.
Grrr. I got played.
“You know what else sounds good? Rum balls. But with Whiskey.”
My eyes go wide and I turn on him. “That’s too much to put on Mom. You can tell she’s hurting, can’t you?”
“Lolo, come on. I’ll sit with you. I miss baking with my babies.”
“Coming, Mom,” I call as I glare at my brother behind my mom’s back so he knows my displeasure.
“I have his number,” he mouths to me, and I freeze.
Whiskey Balls!
Breakfast comes and goes.
Baking is in full swing, with Mom being overly directive with all of the instructions. There’s no need for such a level of detail when I make her recipes all the time. But, alas, I hear it for hours. Hours.
The kitchen is a wreck, but the whole house smells like spun sugar. I wish I could bottle it. The flavor, not my thing, but the smell is my childhood, and I miss it more than I can explain.
Sam and Billy take off for the airport with Strider dropping them off.
I wish she’d gotten one-on-one time with our brother.
I sort of wish she’d gotten some with me too.
Not that I know what we would’ve discussed but still.
This adulthood thing requires learning a whole new skill and this one should be at the top of my list.
Well, maybe not the tippy-top.
First, I need to hone my oral skills. And figure out how to handle Liam’s girth and that barbell. Nice down there but maybe not on the roof of my mouth. Would that trigger a gag reflex or stimulate something? We’ll see.
“Lolo?” Mom calls, as Strider walks through the front door.
Um. Dang it. “Yeah?”
“Are you getting overheated?”
I fan my face with my hand and lie. Again. “I must have. That’s weird.”
“How are those chocolate chip cookies coming?” my brother asks as he drops a kiss on Mom’s cheek.
“They’re resting now.” I swat his hand with a potholder as he reaches for one on a cooling rack. “They’re not ready. You have to wait.”
“But I’m the birthday boy.” He fakes one way, reaches another, and has a whole cookie in his mouth before I can stop it.
He sputters a little and makes a face.
“You are not. That was yesterday. You don’t get to claim multiple days.” I smack him on the shoulder with the potholder as he chokes. “Seriously, dramatic much?”
He looks at me wide-eyed.
“Do I need to do the Heimlich maneuver on you?”
He shakes his head, but stares at me before finding a glass of water and drinking the whole thing down.
“I hope the chocolate burns your palate and you notice it when you drink your coffee tomorrow morning. Speaking of, are you working tomorrow?” I can’t help the sadness in my tone.
I love being here, but I love being at home too. I just wish my family and my home were closer together. And not closer like in Peoria.
“Yeah. You leave in the morning anyway. By the time you do the check-in and boarding, I lose the whole day with you anyway. But I can have breakfast and get a late start?” He turns to Mom. “You cooking tomorrow?”
She lifts the arm in her sling and winces. “Probably not.”
“Let’s go out then,” he replies.
Weird. “I can cook, you know.”
He spins to face me as there’s a knock on the door. “Yeah, but there’s no need in having dishes if we can avoid it. Besides, Mom has her appointment tomorrow too. We might as well make it as easy as possible on Mom and Dad.”
What is he not saying? “Fine. That’s probably best. Dad tends to burn the bacon anyway.”
His eyes dance with mirth, and his lips twitch. “It’s settled then.”
Dad comes waltzing in at that moment and puts a package in my hands.
“What’s this?”
“Some door dasher delivery person just dropped it off and said it was for you. Were you expecting something?”
“No.” I shake my head. I most certainly was not expecting anything.
With more caution that I normally manage, I open the wrapping to—
Fudge Balls. It’s a new phone. Like the newest model and the biggest storage. It’s way nicer and so much more expensive than my old one.
I look around, trying to hide my reaction, and excuse myself because there’s no way my face won’t say everything… and I mean everything, about the gift in my hands.
There’s no doubt that Liam did this. It was—I check the clock—less than four hours ago when he heard my phone met its demise and that I had no way to communicate with him. In that time, he’s bought and paid for a new phone, found my parents’ address, and had the device delivered to me.
Sariah’s roots and shelter comment plays on repeat in my head. The man is incessant in his care.
“Be right back,” I offer the room, not listening for any response.
Tears warm my nose and prickle the backs of my eyes as I close my bedroom door and open the box.
Booting the device on, I see the prompt to set up from my old device and do so, waiting on pins and needles to…
what? Thank him. That’s obvious. Text him.
Sure. But the real answer, and the one that is more vulnerable, is to connect with him… not just send a message. Connect.
It takes a few minutes, enough time for my emotions to settle and the tears that threaten to subside, before the phone welcomes me and shows me very close to what I had before.
I dial Liam, the phone shaking as I press it to my face.
“Wifey?”
“It’s me.”
“I see you got my gift.”
“Liam.” My voice is earnest and filled with something… gratitude, maybe, or love. “This is… It’s too much.”
His voice drops to auditory sex. “I prefer the too much I give you in bed.”
A shiver runs through me, and I whisper back, “You know what I mean.”
“It’s basic safety. You can’t not have a phone. And I know you, you’ll work your old one back to life. But you need one that’s dependable.”
“But—”
“No buts, Lorien. Need you safe.”
Need you safe.
Be still my heart. How will I recover after this arrangement is over? Maybe I’ll take up eating all the cookies and baked goods and get more streaming services than I can afford. I can sit in a dark house, watching TV, and eating myself into pain.
After I move, of course. I’ll have to move.
And get new furniture. And anything else that reminds me he once existed. My bed alone will smell like him and that will send me into a tailspin.
Well, that went to shit.
“Lorien?”
I’m now broken-hearted, sitting in my childhood bedroom, wishing I could climb under the covers and hide from the world.
“Baby?”
Baby. Kill me now.
I suck in a breath. “I’m here.”
“Why are you breathing heavy?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, forcing it down, and put fake brightness in my voice. “No reason. Just… distracted.”
“Hmm. I don’t believe that.”
That’s not my problem. Okay, maybe it’s exactly my problem.
“Can I call you later? Later-later?”
“Later-later?” There’s humor painting his voice again. “Yeah, Wifey. Call me later-later.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.” He waits a moment before hanging up. It’s as if neither of us wanted to do it first but he did the hard thing so I don’t have to.
I leave the phone to charge and find my family in the living room all staring at each other like someone died.