15. Birthday Cake and Chocolate Shakes
Birthday Cake and Chocolate Shakes
CARTER
“Open sesame.” I knocked again, but nobody answered, leaving me standing in the hallway outside Liam’s penthouse, juggling a duffle bag full of sand in one hand and a massive bag of Sour Patch candy in the other.
As I reached for my phone, my bag slipped off my shoulder, hitting the floor with a solid thud, and just then, the door inched open.
When I finally looked up, the breath whooshed out of me as I stared into the deep brown eyes of the girl I’d been dying to see for months now.
Only her eyes weren’t alive and sparkling with mischief like the last time I’d seen her—they were hollow and gaunt, and I realized with utter devastation that she was way too thin.
“Happy birthday.” I chimed, my heart beating a mile a minute while I processed her far too emaciated appearance. “Alas, Sour Patch.” I murmured, the words nearly dying on my tongue as I held out the candy, trying to school my features.
“Hi?” Sara said, a little perplexed, though a small almost smile tugged at the corner of her wan lips, and then she shot a look over her shoulder. “Please tell me you didn’t plan anything for my birthday.” She complained to Liam, who had a sneaky grin plastered across his face .
“Okay, I didn’t plan anything for your birthday.” Liam put his hands up in fake surrender.
“Liar.” I coughed under my breath, throwing Sara a wink.
“Yeah, okay, maybe I planned a little something,” Liam confessed, pinching his fingers in the air for emphasis.
“Liam, I seriously do not have the energy.” Sara complained, and looking at her—I believed her.
“Don’t worry, we won’t make you do a damn thing unless it involves fun.
” I promised cheekily, realizing she still hadn’t smiled, not really.
I pulled her into a hug, being careful not to crush her small frame.
“Good to see you too, by the way. Absolutely incredible hospitality.” I said with dry sarcasm.
Liam waved me inside with a shake of his head and closed the door behind me as I shuffled forward, still embracing Sara. It was her birthday, so I supposed I could get away with an extra-long hug, but I decided not to push it, and let go a moment later.
“You two are unbelievable.” Sara rolled her eyes, and I caught the tiniest glimmer of something alive in there.
Liam took my duffel bag off my shoulders, brows shooting up in surprise. “Geez, Kensington, what did you even pack? You might have Gina beat for the heaviest overnight bag.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he continued in a medieval accent. “Come on, good sir, I’ll show you to your quarters.”
“Giddy up, squire.” Sara swung her arm half-heartedly, motioning for me to get a move on, and I swallowed hard, wondering how much weight she’d lost since the last time I’d seen her. Whatever the number was, it was far too much.
I followed Liam down the hallway as he asked, “How was the drive?”
“Long.” Did he even notice? Or was he too preoccupied with his own grief, dealing with his own demons?
“Yeah, I bet. Well, I’m glad you could make this work with your schedule.” He walked into one of the guest bedrooms ahead of me. “I know Sara really appreciates it, even if she doesn’t look like it. ”
I peered down the hall, making sure the coast was clear, and then quickly shut the door behind us as he dropped my duffel on the guest bed. Eyes wild, I silently, frantically, motioned to Sara through the door, but Liam spoke first.
He put his hand up, voice low. “I know.”
“She’s fucking skin and bones.” I whisper-shouted.
“I know.” Liam hissed back, the happy smile he’d just had plastered across his face, long gone. “Why the fuck do you think I tried to plan something fun this weekend?”
“Is she even eating?”
“A bit.” He grimaced.
“A bit?” I dragged both hands down my face. “Has she been to a doctor?” I demanded quietly.
Liam aggressively motioned for me to lower my voice as he whispered, “I’m finally making some progress with her this week.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” I threw my arms out.
Liam’s eyes shuttered. “She ate a piece of fruit yesterday.” He gripped the back of his neck, and I knew he was aware of the utter absurdity of that statement.
“Fruit?!” I whisper-shouted. “She needs more than fucking fruit, Liam.”
“You think I don’t know that? You think I’m not doing enough?
” Liam snapped. “I’m doing everything I can possibly think of!
I make her all her favorite foods every fucking day.
” He started counting on his fingers. “Lasagna, truffle grilled cheese, Chicken Piccata, stir-fry, Lebanese. I’ve baked her every type of goddamn cookie I can think of, and she hardly touches any of it.
” He threw his hands up. “Last week, I sourced the most insane ingredients from one of my contacts and made her a fucking omakase.” He wiped his hand through the air.
“Nothing.” Sheer panic filled his eyes. “She used to beg me for that kind of shit all the time and now—all she eats are those shitty little cheese sticks.” He laughed wildly. “Cheese sticks, Carter.”
I motioned for him to lower his voice.
“I could make her any dish she wanted, but she won’t eat.” He hissed, the exhaustion taking over. “I can’t force the food down her fucking throat—though trust me, I’ve debated it. Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore.” He was on the verge of hyperventilating.
“Liam, breathe.” I gripped his shoulder supportively. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you aren’t doing enough.” I lowered my voice, continuing carefully. “But I think she needs actual medical attent?—”
Liam pinched the bridge of his nose and cut me off.
“Just,” he blew out a breath, begging, “ Please , just for this weekend, don’t make a big deal about it, okay?
” His shoulders slumped in defeat. “She needs this weekend to go well. I need for her to enjoy her birthday.” He conceded authoritatively, “I promise I’ll take her in. After the weekend is over.”
There was a knock at the door, and Liam ripped it open and leaned against it, looking only mildly guilty.
Sara looked between the two of us. “You two making out in here or something?”
“Yup.” I forced a smile. “Bromance for the win.”
“Right.” Her tired eyes darted between us, trying to figure out the weird energy. “Well, I need some long arms. I don’t care which ones.”
“At your service, milady.” I followed her back into the hallway, shooting Liam a stern look over my shoulder. “First thing Monday.” I mouthed a silent shout.
“I know.” He mouthed back.
Sara had a small journal tucked under her arm, and at the end of the hallway, she opened a set of built-in cabinets and pointed to a dark green felt box on the top shelf.
I pulled the box down, realizing it was far heavier than it looked.
“Thanks,” Sara said, her long hair falling limply over her shoulder as she opened the box and carefully tucked the journal inside, next to several rows of identical journals .
“What is all this?” I asked curiously, if not hopefully, because projects were good, staying busy was good.
She put the lid back on the box and smiled sadly. “My mother's journals. I don’t want them out, you know, if people are coming over.”
I nodded, waiting to see if she would say anything else, but she didn’t as I slid the box back up on the shelf.
“Thanks.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and left me standing there, trying to figure out how to make the next two days as happy as humanly possible for her.
While we grazed on appetizers at the kitchen island, I kept my gaze casual as I kept track of what Sara ate—which was all of nothing, so far. The wine, however, was a different story.
“Can I do anything to help?” Gina asked, sliding her arms around Liam’s neck.
“No, baby.” Liam threaded an arm around her waist and hauled her against him, while he whisked something on the stove with his free hand.
“You’ve been working so hard, and I want you to go sit down and rest.” He paused, giving her a long, slow kiss with enough tongue that I awkwardly fidgeted with my watch, pretending not to notice.
“Think you can do that for me?” He asked.
“Are you sure?” She hummed, a sound that was definitely a moan, and I was glad he had her to help him cope with all this, but I certainly didn’t need to hear that.
Liam smirked and leaned into Gina’s ear, whispering something that had her biting her lip, and moment later, when he dragged his finger through some sort of sauce and slid his finger into her mouth—Sara and I both picked up our phones, getting awkwardly busy.
Liam eventually carried Gina around the kitchen island and planted her on a barstool next to me and Sara, before he returned to the stove.
As Liam milled around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up his tatted arms, towel tucked neatly into his waist apron, he was totally in the zone.
Liam moved through the kitchen the way I maneuvered my jet through the skies—with utter precision and focus.
One minute he was skewering a spoon in and out of a shiny sauce so fast you’d wondered if he’d even tasted it, and the next he was plating something with such intensity, you didn’t dare breathe while you watched.
Where Sara was an artist with paint and brushes, Liam was an artist with ingredients and flavors. He created tiny little pieces of architecture, each plate so beautiful you wondered if it was even edible. He was a master at his craft.
In between Liam moving through his kitchen with such fluidity that you could almost consider it a form of dance, he had a small staff working on a variety of dishes—and I knew, there was no way the four of us were going to make a dent in all this food.
I wasn’t sure if the full-scale production was just for Sara’s birthday weekend, or if Liam had been keeping this whole thing up for weeks now, but it was clear he was trying, really fucking hard to take care of her, and I hoped he was taking care of himself too.
I shook my head, knowing at least Gina was.