Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Are you my dad’s girlfriend?’ Abigail asked as she slurped her cereal at Liam’s kitchen island, her black Adidas trainers swinging from the barstool.
I sputtered into my coffee, dread settling in my stomach. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? No, Abigail, but your dad and I have a no-strings-attached relationship where he blows my back out and cooks me dinner.
‘It’s fine if you are,’ Abigail said, smiling. ‘Mum has a finance.’
‘A fiancée?’
‘Yeah, that one. Kirsty is really cool. She climbs rocks, and she’s a woman. Some people at school think that’s weird, but I tell them what Dad told me to say.’ She puffed out her chest. ‘Fuck off.’
I gave a stuttered laugh. ‘Your dad told you to tell other kids to fuck off.’
Abigail nodded, her dark hair the exact colour of Liam’s moving around her shoulders. ‘Yep. Dad says they are bigamists.’
‘Bigots.’
‘Exactly.’ She nodded solemnly. She shifted in her seat, impatient. ‘So, are you his girlfriend? Because if you are, I need to invite you to my next football match. We’re playing Heath Prep. They think they are so much better than us.’ Abigail rolled her eyes. ‘Snobs.’
I swear, this girl was ten going on twenty-five.
‘Abs, are you ready to go?’ Liam strode into the kitchen, his eyes flickered down my blue jeans and jumper, warming his dark irises.
I was relieved to see him, not only because he was wearing a fitted green T-shirt that showed the outline of the chest I had yet to see naked but also so that I could yeet myself out of this conversation about girlfriends.
‘Yep. I was just asking Kat if she would come to my football match now she’s your girlfriend, and you know Kirsty always comes too –’
Liam winced. ‘Abs –’
‘I’ll come.’
‘Are you sure?’ Liam asked. His eyes widened as if to say, You don’t have to.
I turned to Abigail, her face bright and beaming. Who the hell could turn that face down?
‘Are you going to win?’ I asked, giving Abi a conspiratorial grin.
Abigail grinned back. ‘Duh. I’m the best goalie. Dad taught me when I was five.’
‘Then, I’ll be there.’
Liam’s face flickered with surprise, shepherding me to the door with a hand at my lower back. Abigail ran to the car, her book bag swinging from her hands.
He leaned in. ‘You look beautiful, by the way. Those jeans –’ His voice lowered.
‘Dad!’ Abigail shouted, making us jump. ‘Hurry, we’re going to be late!’
I laughed as Liam’s eyes closed in a wince at Abigail’s piercing voice. We all piled into Liam’s van and dropped off Abigail at school first. She jumped out of the van, giving a wave.
‘See you later, Kat!’ she shouted and ran off to her gaggle of friends waiting by the school gate.
‘She’s cute,’ I said, turning to Liam.
‘She can be.’ His lips upturned. Proud. That was a proud dad face.
‘You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to,’ Liam said a few moments later. ‘To Abi’s match. Don’t let her twist your arm.’
‘I’d like to,’ I said. Even if it scared the shit out of me and it felt like we were teetering near ‘girlfriend–boyfriend’ territory already. The line that I had set in the sand. ‘If that’s okay with you and Yasmin. I don’t want to overstep –’
Liam glanced at me. ‘If you want to be there, you’re coming.’
‘Yes, boss,’ I said, adding a flirty edge to my tone.
‘Kat,’ Liam warned.
‘What?’ I laughed.
‘It’s been three days. Don’t push me.’
My cheeks burned.
Three days since Liam and I had made our agreement.
Three days of missed opportunities. On Monday, Liam had set out earlier than me, flying off in his van to fix some crisis at the Joneses’ extension.
On Tuesday, Sandra took me for lunch and then to watch Ray, the high-maintenance jazz performer, at the club.
Sandra and I silently elbowed each other, our shoulders shaking with laughter, as Ray’s toupee flipped up as he stormed off in anger at someone talking too loudly during his set.
Then, last night, Liam helped Abigail with her homework and cooked dinner. I wanted to give them some space together, so I read my book in the annexe. Later in the evening, I got a knock at my door – Liam delivering a hot, lingering kiss and a foil-covered meal.
So we certainly hadn’t had time to fully…
explore our new agreement. And the tension was painful.
It was like I was aware of every breath he took and the moments he was watching me from the corner of his eye, his gaze dragging across my legs or my breasts.
I noticed how easily he lifted shopping bags out of the car, his muscles flexing.
I smirked when I saw his eyes lingering on my mouth as I finished my breakfast and at his warning glare when I took a bit longer licking the spoon.
Liam’s van came to a stop. I heard the creak of the brake handle. The click of our seatbelts.
Our lips met, and I gasped at the contact. Liam’s hands were back in my hair. It was hard and fast. Liam’s tongue stroking mine. Memories of Liam’s head between my legs resurfaced, as they had every moment since.
Then, he was gone.
‘Sorry,’ Liam said, his forehead against mine. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for three days.’
‘You should have texted me.’
Liam winced. ‘Abigail –’
‘Yeah, it’s weird,’ I admitted.
‘She’s back at Yas’s tonight.’ He winced. ‘I don’t want it to come across like I want her out –’
‘I didn’t think that, Liam.’
‘She is my priority. Always.’ Liam’s eyes flicked to me, serious. ‘I just want to say that upfront. She will always be my priority.’
My throat thickened. God, that was such a lovely thing to say.
I knew the bar was on the floor when it came to fathers.
They just picked their kids up, and it had everyone swooning.
But it didn’t mean it wasn’t lovely to hear from Liam’s mouth.
His expression was serious, like he was ready to jump into action for Abigail, no matter what.
I knew from experience how lucky Abigail was to have a dad like that. I’d been without one.
‘I know, Liam. I wouldn’t expect anything less.’
He nodded. ‘Come on.’ Liam smirked. ‘I need to get through a day without thinking of that mouth.’ I snorted, and Liam’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I’m not joking. I’ve got a serious case of blue balls.’
‘Such a baby.’ I shook my head. I leaned across the console, grabbing a fistful of his soft hair. ‘If you get through today, maybe I’ll come around tonight and –’
‘Careful how you finish that sentence,’ Liam said, his eyes burning.
I leaned closer and whispered, ‘I’ll get on my knees and use my mouth.’
Liam closed his eyes and groaned; the noise shot straight to my core.
Liam shook his head, and a grin overtook him. ‘You don’t know what you just started.’
*
With the first fix on the electrics and plumbing completed, with my cute new antique bronze switches hanging off the walls, Liam enlisted Danny, a plasterer.
Danny was in his mid-thirties, with a stocky build, a moustache, and a mullet.
His strange blend of New Zealand and Mancunian accents made me want to smile.
As Danny set up his radio, Liam got a call to pick up the bathroom materials, leaving me twiddling my thumbs.
I paced from room to room, energy humming around my brain and legs.
I bit my lip.
God, I hated having nothing to do.
I poked my head around to see Danny drilling the plasterboard into the walls.
An idea hit: a cartoon lightbulb above my head.
‘Danny,’ I said, my voice going sing-song.
Danny raised an eyebrow when I asked him.
But, like most people being asked about their skills, he enjoyed teaching me and gained enthusiasm with each question I threw at him.
He taught me how to fix the plasterboard, mix the plaster mixture with a power stir and then apply a thin coat of plaster over the joints.
As we chatted away, I learnt that Danny moved from New Zealand five years ago and had lived all over the UK.
He settled in Manchester because he liked the city and had supported Manchester United from afar since he was a kid.
He raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘Liam mentioned you were from the Big Smoke. Are you liking it here?’
‘Yes,’ I said, and I realised I was telling the truth. ‘Even if it’s a bit mad here.’
‘It’s barmy.’ Danny grinned. ‘But I wouldn’t live anywhere else.’ He arched an eyebrow at me. ‘London is mad expensive.’
I nodded. ‘It is.’
‘And everyone is fucking rude.’
‘Liam said the same thing.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s not that bad. People are busy – not rude.’
‘Trust me; this town is full of busy people – mainly busybodies. But we still have time to say hello and ask how you are.’ Danny shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t be able to do it.’
‘Live in London?’ I asked, a bit incredulous.
‘I lived in a small town back home. I never liked cities. I get why people do, but even going into Manchester stresses me out. I only go to do my Christmas shopping.’
‘On Christmas Eve?’
‘Yep.’ Danny grinned.
As I began to mix the plaster, I thought about Danny’s and Liam’s aversion to London.
I didn’t get it. But then, I hadn’t known any different growing up.
It was natural to move to London. Could I even imagine myself living somewhere else?
I tried to picture myself in this house – living here in this town.
I could maybe go freelance, but I was so sure I would fuck it up.
But then, a slower pace of life sounded lovely.
I could do exactly what I wanted to do. No more shitty meetings with clients I hated.
No more packed Tubes. No more roommates and their crusty Super Noodles on the kitchen worktop.
It took an hour to complete one wall in the front room. Danny was laughing at my shoddy attempt when I smelt cedar and rain. Liam. I turned my head enough to see him from my periphery. He was leaning on the doorway, his hands crossed over his chest.
Danny’s hands moved to mine, guiding me. ‘Just go to the edge.’