One Year Later
To-Do List
Pick up Abi from school (Liam)
Food shop (Kat) Already done it, Red
Prep food for tonight (Kat) In what world?
Collect Mum and Graham from the station (Kat) Sandra and Brian are on it
Make sure we have enough napkins. I brought some over from Lily’s
Just get ready, beautiful. I love you – L
‘Abi! Kat!’ Liam bellowed up the stairs. ‘We’re going to be late!’
‘Shit,’ I muttered furiously, flicking through my make-up bag, and Abigail laughed beside me.
We had been applying eyeliner for the past twenty minutes, sitting at my dressing table in our loft room.
We sat on matching stools, the mirror lights illuminating our irises – mine blue, Abigail’s a deep brown, like Liam’s.
I bought Abi her own after she liked to linger by my dressing table, asking me what products I used.
‘Oh yeah. I’ve seen someone use that before,’ she said after I showed her my Lanc?me mascara. ‘Some millennial on YouTube, I think.’
She pretended to play it cool until I bought her a tube, with Yasmin’s approval, and she jumped up and down, squealing. I will never forget the force of her hug around my waist, her small arms wrapped around my middle, and Liam’s satisfied smile watching us together.
Since then, we’ve always done our make-up together.
I checked my watch. ‘Shit. Seven twenty. We are late.’
Abigail hummed, concentrating on applying her eyeliner. We promised Liam to leave at quarter past by the very latest. I glanced over at Abigail. Her dark hair had grown so quickly this year. Her mouth was open in a perfect ‘O’ as she applied her mascara. Her eyeliner was impeccable.
I frowned. ‘How the hell are you doing that better than me?’
I swear she was practising this shit without me.
The girl was almost twelve and could apply make-up better than me – the cheek of it.
She shrugged. ‘I skive PE so I can practise.’
My eyes narrowed. ‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.’
Either Abigail was comfortable with me or testing how outrageous a statement could be before I was forced to tell her dad.
Abigail had forgotten that I had a step-parent.
I was well-versed in manipulation strategies.
But as Abigail’s teenage years set in, all grey moods and apathy, I was selfishly grateful to be seen as the ‘cool’ one.
Abigail saved her fights for Liam and Yasmin.
I had to take some wins, right?
‘Katherine! Abigail!’ Liam shouted.
‘Dad!’ Abigail shouted back. ‘Per-fec-tion’ – she sounded out each syllable – ‘takes time. Didn’t anyone tell you that?’
We giggled as Liam loudly grumbled something, and when we were ready, Abigail and I walked down the two flights of stairs.
The little 1930s semi was no longer a project or a deadline.
It was a home now – scuffs on the skirting boards and recycling piled up by the bins.
Abi had her own room at the back of the house, and we’d had a lot of fun designing it together.
She’d gone for a powder-blue wallpaper with birds and florals.
A very sophisticated choice that I thought would take her into her teen years at least.
I walked down the hallway with a wall full of bright and eclectic art prints we’d collected at art fairs and markets around the Northwest. Amidst the prints were a scattering of photos taken over the past year.
Liam and me next to the Christmas tree, his arms wrapped around my waist, his kiss on my temple.
Liam and Abi playing football on the beach when we visited Yasmin’s parents in Formby in February.
Lydia and I with our medals after we completed a 10K in April.
Mum, Graham, and me climbing a mountain in the Peak District on their visit a couple of months ago.
A snippet of our life up here, all on the walls of this house that wasn’t supposed to be mine. But now it was ours. Liam sold his house within a few months and moved in. I told him he could keep it or rent it out, but he insisted on selling it.
‘I don’t give a shit about that house, Kat,’ he’d said one morning while trailing his hands across my bare hips as we stood in the kitchen, looking out at the garden on a bright morning. ‘It was just a house. This is home.’
Liam used the money from his place to do a huge loft conversion, making us a master bedroom, walk-in wardrobe and en suite with a walk-in shower.
I got to design all over again, staying on Pinterest until the early morning hours.
Liam grinned and shook his head when I showed him the expensive marble I picked for the shower.
Then, the next day, he ordered it.
The loft conversion gave Abigail the first floor to herself and her friends during sleepovers.
We had plenty of space when Willa or Mum and Graham visited.
Mum was slowly coming around to Everly Heath.
She and Graham visited every three months at least. They were starting to get on with a lot of the locals in their own way.
On their first visit to the club, they sat in a quiet corner with their lager shandy, but I didn’t mind.
Mum was making an effort, like I’d asked her.
I could accept she had her own way of doing things.
Then on the next visit, Graham had one too many and started chatting to Peter.
I was convinced it was game over. The men couldn’t be any different.
But then, Peter’s face lit up and they talked for three hours, bonding over their shared love of Egyptology.
Last week, I’d been tidying and I’d found a list of walks they wanted to do in the Peak District, and it made me well up.
‘Finally,’ Liam grumbled as Abi and I descended the stairs.
His eyes softened as he took us in. Abigail was in a racerback mid-length dress with platform trainers, her hair styled in braids down the back of her head.
She looked cool – like her mum. Meanwhile, I tried to ignore the way Liam’s gaze travelled up my body.
I was wearing a new floral green dress, summery and feminine – a homage to the dress he’d bought for me last year on our first date.
Liam scanned over my curves and I had a feeling he was thinking how much better the dress would look on the dark hardwood floors of our bedroom later.
‘Ew, Dad,’ Abigail said, ever insightful. ‘Stop perving.’
I laughed, and Liam’s eyes flicked away. ‘I was not.’
‘You so were.’ Abigail scrunched up her nose.
Liam kissed Abigail’s forehead. ‘Go get in the car, trouble.’
‘Happily.’ She held out her hand for the keys, and Liam dropped them in her palm.
‘You can start it but do not move it. Not again. We’ll piss off Pat if we run over Noodle.’
‘I barely ran him over,’ Abigail argued as she walked out of the porch. ‘He was in the way!’
I chuckled, shaking my head. ‘It’s only going to get worse.’
Liam smiled and shrugged. ‘I’ve got help.’
I arched an eyebrow. ‘I’m busy being the favourite, thank you. I’m not raising my head above the parapet.’
‘Coward,’ he said and pulled me into a searing kiss, his palms travelling down my hips and down to my bum. ‘You look fucking incredible.’
I smiled into his kiss and thought about how this was the same man I’d called a prick in a car park. Both of those people felt so far away like we were completely different people.
Liam pushed me against the wall, his thigh coming to rest between my legs, and I melted. A year on and he could still set me on fire with one kiss.
‘Do we have to go now?’ I complained, my heart racing.
Liam chuckled. ‘It’s your party, Red. I think people would notice if you were missing.’
I groaned, pushing Liam’s chest away so I didn’t press him closer to me. Liam’s smug smirk told me he knew exactly how distracted I was.
‘Come on, you’re going to be late.’ Liam laced his hand through mine and ushered us towards the pink front door.
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Can I be late to my own party?’
Liam laughed. ‘It’s a good job I told you the wrong time. Now, we’re bang on time.’
I swivelled towards him. ‘Not again.’
Liam shrugged, a wide grin on his handsome face. ‘And yet, you fall for it every time.’
*
I bit my lip as the last of the evening sun lit up the KAT WILLIAMS DESIGNS sign, giving it a warm orange glow.
It felt obnoxiously big. Too big. It dwarfed the little shop I had picked because of the adorable bay window.
The outside was painted a soft white, and I was sure it would get dirty in the winter.
I could paint a new colour to reflect a new season – burnt orange for autumn, dark blue for winter, and duck egg blue for spring.
I shifted on my feet, my gaze drifting back to the sign.
Liam stood beside me as Abigail had already run into the shop to find her mum.
A year ago, Liam’s restaurant was full to the brim with people, all buzzy and warm and full of laughter.
Now, it was my shop opening, three doors down from Liam’s restaurant, which, after a rave review from a well-known national restaurant critic, was booked up weeks in advance.
Now, I had people asking me for favours in the club – bookings at Liam’s restaurant for their daughter’s birthday or a big anniversary they’d forgotten about.
Liam always kept a table back and called it the Everly Heath Tax.
He usually took care of the bill if he liked them well enough.
I gnawed at my lip. ‘Is the sign too big?’
‘No, love.’
‘I think it looks stupid.’
Liam rubbed his hand across my arm. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘Are you sure? Maybe I should call the signage people and ask them to mock up something else –’
‘Kat.’ Liam turned my shoulders so I faced him.
He tilted my head up to meet his eyes. ‘You’ve worked fucking hard for this.
All those nights studying and the money you saved to open this place.
’ Liam offered the money to help, but I said no.
I wanted to do this on my own and know I did it myself.
He reluctantly agreed because he knew how much that mattered to me.