17. Liam
Chapter seventeen
Liam
It’s been a week since I asked her to be my girlfriend, and she still hasn’t given me an answer.
Not a yes. Not a no. Just… silence.
And yet, she hasn’t pushed me away either.
I can’t tell you how many times in the last seven days I’ve played that moment over in my mind, the way her eyes widened, the way her breath caught, the way sheer horror flashed across her face like I’d just asked her to walk off a cliff instead of into my life.
That look… it stays with me.
And I keep asking myself the same question: who hurt her so badly? Who made her believe love is something to fear?
I don’t press her, though. As much as I want to know, as much as it kills me not to reach in and pull the answer out of her, I hold back.
One day.
One day she’ll trust me enough to tell me. And until then, I’ll keep showing up.
That’s why I planned this little surprise for her tonight. Nothing big. Nothing flashy. Just… us. Just something quiet.
I glance at her as she sits in the passenger seat of my car, her hair catching the last rays of the setting sun streaming through the window.
She’s wearing this light blue sundress that makes her look like she belongs in the middle of a painting — soft and delicate, and somehow untouchable all at once.
She catches me watching her and quirks an eyebrow. “What?” she asks, a little smirk tugging at her lips.
I grin. “Nothing.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s the faintest blush on her cheeks as she turns her gaze back out the window.
We’re driving toward Emma and Bryan’s house — though Lucy has no idea why.
She crosses her arms and leans back in her seat, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Alright, West, are you ever going to tell me where you’re taking me, or are you just enjoying making me squirm?”
I chuckle under my breath. “Little of both.”
She huffs and shakes her head, though there’s a smile playing at her lips. “You’re impossible.”
“You’ll thank me later,” I say confidently, reaching over to brush my fingers over the back of her hand.
Her eyes flick to mine briefly before she looks away again, her blush deepening.
We turn into Emma and Bryan’s driveway just as the sun dips low in the sky, casting everything in shades of gold and orange.
“Where are we?”
“Emma and Bryan’s place,”
Lucy frowns, glancing at me. “Why are we at Emma’s house?”
I don’t answer.
Not yet.
She tilts her head at me, suspicious. “Liam…”
“Trust me,” I say with a grin, parking the car and hopping out.
She sighs but follows me anyway, slipping her hand into mine as we walk up the driveway.
As we round the corner of the house, she gasps softly, her eyes going wide.
“Wow,” she whispers, taking in the sight of the house’s wrap-around porch glowing in the soft evening light, the climbing roses trailing up the sides, the little wind chimes dancing in the breeze.
I smile, glancing at her. “It’s beautiful, huh?”
She nods slowly, her voice quiet. “It really is. It… feels like it has history, you know? Like it’s seen things. Felt things.”
“That’s because it has,” I say. “It was Emma’s grandmother’s house. The reason she came back here. The reason she and Bryan ended up together.”
Lucy looks at me, her expression softening. “That makes sense. You can feel it. How much it means to them.”
I nod, squeezing her hand gently. “Exactly.”
She gives me a small smile, but her gaze lingers on the house for a moment longer, as though she’s trying to memorize it.
Then I tug her hand gently, leading her down the side of the house.
She shoots me a teasing look. “You still haven’t told me what you’re up to, you know.”
I smirk. “Patience, Whittier.”
“Not exactly my strong suit,” she mutters under her breath, though there’s amusement in her tone.
We step into the backyard, and her breath catches audibly as she finally sees where we’re headed — the little stretch of private beach just beyond the house, the sand catching the last of the sunlight, the waves crashing softly in the distance.
And right in the middle of it all — the picnic I spent the whole afternoon setting up.
A soft blanket laid out on the sand, pillows scattered across it, a wicker basket filled with all her favorites. Lanterns hanging from the low tree branches, casting a warm, golden glow over everything.
She stops walking, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes well up.
“Liam…” she whispers.
I step closer, my voice low but steady. “You deserve this.”
She shakes her head, her voice breaking. “No, I don’t. I… I don’t deserve any of this.”
I move in front of her, tipping her chin up so she has to look at me. “Yes, you do. You deserve all of it, Lucy. And more.”
She blinks rapidly, clearly trying not to cry.
I grin softly. “Come on. Let’s eat before the sun goes down completely.”
She lets me lead her to the blanket, still in awe, still shaking her head like she can’t believe this is real.
We settle onto the pillows, and she gasps again as she sees all the little details — her favorite fruit neatly sliced, her favorite wine already uncorked, little chocolate truffles sitting prettily on a plate.
“Liam… how did you…”
I shrug, trying to play it off. “I pay attention.”
She stares at me for a long moment before whispering, “You really do.”
We eat, and she relaxes more with every bite. She laughs at my jokes, even the bad ones, and tells me stories about her childhood — little ones, nothing too deep, but enough to feel like she’s letting me in a little more.
And every time she laughs, it feels like my chest could burst from how much I like her.
After we’ve finished eating, I get up and hold out my hand.
She raises an eyebrow. “What now?”
I grin. “Kite flying.”
Her mouth drops open. “You’re kidding.”
“Not even a little,” I say, already holding up the kite I’d tucked behind the basket earlier.
She groans but gets up anyway, and within minutes we’re both running up and down the sand like kids, letting the wind catch the colorful kites as they soar into the sky.
She’s competitive, teasing me every time her kite catches a better gust of wind than mine, and I pretend to pout just to hear her laugh again.
As the sky darkens, we finally let the kites fall and collapse onto the blanket again, breathless and grinning.
The stars are just starting to appear above us, the ocean stretching out like an endless sheet of black glass.
We walk down to the shoreline, our hands brushing together until finally I just take hers completely, holding it as we stroll through the shallow water.
The quiet between us is comfortable, but I can feel her walls still up — just enough to keep me out.
I glance at her, her hair blowing gently in the breeze, her expression distant as she stares at the horizon.
I want to tell her how much she means to me. How much I’m starting to care.
But I don’t.
Not yet.
Instead, I squeeze her hand gently, silently promising myself that I’ll keep showing up. That I’ll find out who broke her heart and prove to her that I’m not going anywhere.
She glances up at me then, her lips curved in the faintest smile, and I know — this is worth the wait.
We walk back up the beach, hand in hand, the stars above us, the ocean behind us, and something fragile but steady growing between us.
***
I wake up with a smile on my face, the kind that’s a little too wide, but it’s the only kind of smile I’ve got these days.
The moment my eyes flutter open, the first thing I think about is last night — the way she looked at me, the way her hand fit perfectly in mine, the way we shared something simple but real.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this.
I stretch in bed, the quiet morning surrounding me, and then the thought hits me — I want to hear her voice. I can’t help it. It’s become something I look forward to, hearing her soft tone, her laugh, the way she says my name like it’s only meant for me.
I grab my phone, almost reflexively. It’s like my hand has a mind of its own as it dials her number, my thumb moving over the screen before I can even stop myself.
The phone rings once, twice, then a soft click.
"Hello?" Her voice is warm, still sleepy, and I can hear the quiet rustling of sheets in the background.
I smile at the sound of her. "Morning, Lucy."
She lets out a small laugh, a sleepy, quiet sound. "Morning, Liam.”
“Did I wake you?"
"Not at all," she replies quickly, her voice lighter than usual. "I’ve been up for a while.”
“Same here. Just wanted to hear your voice."
She’s silent for a moment, and I can’t help but imagine her still lying in bed, the softness of her voice mingling with the warmth of the morning sun filtering through her window.
She finally answers, her tone softer now, almost shy. "Thanks for last night. It was... really nice."
"You don’t have to thank me for that," I say, my heart warming at the thought of how much she enjoyed herself. "I’m just glad you had a good time."
There’s a pause, and I can hear the hint of a smile in her voice when she speaks again. "Yeah. It felt... different. I haven’t felt that relaxed in a long time."
I chuckle softly. "I’m glad I could help with that. You deserve to feel relaxed."
We fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, just the sound of her breath on the other end of the line, and I let myself enjoy it.
Finally, I break the quiet. "How’s your day going so far?"
"Pretty boring," she admits with a sigh. "I want to cook something, but most of the shops are closed today, and I’m out of groceries."
My mind starts working. I know I’m overthinking it, but I can’t help it. She sounds so... defeated by something as simple as not having food in the house. And that’s when it hits me — I can fix this.
"Well," I say, already standing up from my bed, "why don’t you come over? I’ve got all the food we need. We could make something together."
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. She doesn’t respond right away, and I start to wonder if maybe I’ve overstepped. Maybe she needs some space today. But then she says something that makes me smile.
"You really don’t have to, Liam."
I can tell she’s trying to be polite, but there’s a hesitance in her voice. I can’t let her back out now.
I press, trying to sound cute, playful. "Come on. What’s the harm in having some company while you cook? Plus, I can’t let you starve. That’s just not in my DNA."
She laughs softly, and it’s the sound I’ve been waiting for all morning. "You’re impossible, you know that?"
"But you love it," I tease, walking toward my closet to throw something on.
Another pause, this one filled with reluctant amusement. "Alright, fine. But I’m taking a cab."
I stop mid-step, my heart thumping a little harder. "No," I say quickly, almost a little too fast. "I’ll come pick you up. It’s no trouble."
She hesitates again, clearly wanting to protest. "Liam—"
"I insist," I say, cutting her off gently. "I’m coming to get you. You deserve to be treated right."
There’s a soft sigh, but I know she’s given in. "Okay," she says, and there’s a hint of warmth in her voice. "You win."
"Great," I reply with a smile that I know she can’t see but can probably hear in my voice. "I’ll be there soon."
As I hang up, I can’t wipe the smile off my face. The idea of having her over at my place, cooking together, spending more time with her, it feels right. Too right. But I can’t ignore the fact that it also scares me.
What happens when we cross that line? When she spends more time in my world?
I shake the thoughts away. For now, I’m just going to enjoy having her with me.
I quickly get dressed, a simple t-shirt and jeans — nothing flashy, but enough to look like I’m trying. A part of me wants to wear something more, to make her feel like this is a big deal, but another part of me knows it’s just about us. The two of us.
As I grab my car keys, a thought crosses my mind. What would it be like to have Lucy around all the time? To wake up with her next to me every day? To cook breakfast together, to share simple moments like these without the need for secrecy or pretending.
It feels like a dream, something I didn’t think I could have. But now… now it feels possible.
I shake my head, smiling at the thought. I need to slow down. I don’t want to scare her off with how much I’m thinking about our future. But the thought lingers, impossible to ignore.
I leave my apartment and drive toward hers, the anticipation building with every turn. This will be her first time in my house. I’m excited, and I’m not even sure why. Maybe it’s because it’s the next step. Maybe it’s because I want to show her the kind of life I could give her.
I park outside her apartment building, my mind racing. I reach for my phone and shoot her a quick text:
“On my way. Get ready to be spoiled.”
I can’t stop myself from smiling as I press send.
Moments later, she opens the door, and the smile on her face makes my heart leap in my chest. She looks perfect, as always, even though she’s dressed casually. The way her eyes brighten when she sees me, the way she greets me with a shy smile — it’s everything I’ve been wanting.
"Ready to go?" I ask, walking toward her.
She nods, but I notice a little hesitation in her posture. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.
"Let’s go," I say, holding out my hand. She takes it, and the simple contact sends a rush of warmth through me.
As I lead her to the car, my mind starts racing again. The idea of having her in my space, cooking together, enjoying each other’s company — it feels natural. Like it’s supposed to be this way.