Chapter 16
Britain
Liam joins me at the table, depositing his plate first, then returning with two glasses of white. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife, so I try to ease into something slightly more normal for dinner conversation.
“How was work?” I ask him in between bites. He looks up at me and pauses for a moment, like he’s not sure how to answer.
“It was good. Just working on the Sonoma property. Going over selection for the buildout on our sales center.”
“Will it be a lot like Broken Ridge then?”
“Similar concept, different style.”
“I love the French provincial look of everything at Broken Ridge. Really, it’s so well done. Were you behind those designs, too?” I can’t tell if he does or doesn’t want to talk about it. I know when I’m in a project at work, I could talk about it for hours, passionately, but he’s holding back. He nods in response to my question. So he doesn’t want to talk about it.
“I saw your mom today.” I’ll try a different approach now.
“Oh, yeah? Did you go to the cafe?” he asks.
I laugh first then say, “Yeah, um, may have made a scene. Jim might think I’m deranged.” He’s not laughing, though. He looks stiff, frozen midbite. Maybe I should elaborate.
“It’s a long story, but basically the only thing Georgia left me when she passed was a box full of her old notebooks. I’ve been trying to read through them while I’m here. Just a way to connect with her. We weren’t super close, I don’t know if you knew that beyond the obvious. I’m rambling, but basically the notebook I read today was the one where my mom confesses she’s going to stop seeking treatment for cancer. A cancer I didn’t even know she had. I didn’t find out she was sick until a week before she passed, when she went into hospice. So I went to see your mom because Georgia mentioned her by name in her entry. She said Sandy took her to her doctor’s office.” I look up to see he’s relaxed some, but is very concerned. “I just wanted to talk to your mom and thank her, mostly. But I ended up ugly crying in the cafe trying to explain why I needed to buy a coffee mug. By the way, I broke one of yours on the deck this morning. I was reading out there, and I just dropped the coffee cup, and it shattered. Sorry about that.” I finish and he’s already grabbing my hands in his.
“I don’t give a fuck about a coffee cup. Are you okay? I had no idea about any of this, the box, the notebooks. I didn’t know that you didn’t know she was sick. I just thought your relationship was strained. Baby, are you okay?” I forget how nice it is to have someone care about your emotional well-being.
“Yeah, I’m definitely better now. Your mom took me to her house for a mid-morning tequila, which turned into lunch with Carly, and um, I’m good now. Well, I mean, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for not being there for Georgia when she was sick. I feel bad enough for leaving her alone for so many years. I’ll have to add this new revelation to the ‘crap I need to work through’ list.” I’ve got tears in my eyes now. Great.
“I promise I won’t cry on every date.” I laugh as I wipe away a stray tear. He moves in and wipes away a tear on the other cheek.
“Bambi, your tears are my weakness. I’d do anything to take them away.” I give him a half smile, not sure whether that’s a good thing or not.
His phone starts vibrating on the kitchen counter, but he ignores it. It’s still going, but he’s still looking at me, looking like he’s dying a small death right now. Like he’s in pain.
“Please, go get your phone. I’m fine. Promise.” I urge him to go with my knee.
“Are you sure? I blocked out my schedule. They’re only calling if it’s really important.”
“Absolutely, go,” I tell him again, and this time he listens, walking over to the counter. He grabs the phone and walks to the hallway that leads to the pantry and mudroom. I can’t really hear what he’s talking about, but it sounds intense. When he walks back into the kitchen he’s no longer on the call, but his expression is stoic, like someone just died.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, but clearly it’s not.
He lets out a long breath and says, “I need to go check something, but I’ll be right back, okay?” I don’t really have any other option, so I just return with my best version of a reassuring, “okay,” punctuating it with a half smile so he doesn’t feel bad. Work is and clearly has been his life for a long time. I would never expect him to just stop that because of me. I hope that’s not something he’s worried about.
I’m basically just picking at the food on my plate, taking random sips of wine, alone, in his massive kitchen when he finally returns bearing a grim look on his face.
“When you came home from my mom’s today, did you notice anything off in the apartment?” That’s a random question.
“Um, no. I don’t think so? Why?”
“I’m so sorry to do this, Britain, but I need you to go make sure nothing is missing or stolen.” He looks ashamed when he says this, and I can’t figure it out.
“What? I’m so confused.” Like seriously, what the hell? He’s nervous, he’s bouncing the palm of his hand against his leg now.
“I’m so sorry Britain, someone broke into the apartment today. I, uh, haven’t been checking the garage cam or the apartment doorbell cam out of privacy for you. But one of the guys at work wanted to know what my ‘hot date’ tonight looked like, and when they pulled up the feed, they saw Tori entering the apartment around noon. I just checked myself and that is what happened. She left about 20 minutes later. I don’t know what to say except I’m really fucking sorry.” His words send a shiver down my back. It’s the feeling of violation, like you have someone else’s dirt on your skin without giving your consent to be touched.
“Oh, um.” I’m a little bit in shock, honestly. “Okay, I’ll go look right now.” I get up from the table and I know my eyes have glazed over. I’m just going through the motions to get me to the front door. I don’t even realize Liam’s right behind me until I’m halfway up the stairs to the apartment. I instinctively turn to tell him he didn’t need to come with me, but then I remember someone was in my space without my permission, so having him with me is probably a good thing.
We step in the front door and I check the bowl on the entry table, keys are there. I open my wallet revealing all my credit cards, driver’s license, and cash are all there, too. I go to Georgia’s box and it looks untouched other than the notebooks I’ve read through already. I double check the jewelry box, but since I hadn’t opened it yet, I couldn’t tell you if something was missing or not.
I walk through the bedroom into the ensuite. I’ve been keeping my jewelry traveling case in the bathroom. I open it up, and my Cartier watch, bracelets, and earrings are all there. I flip open the pouch, revealing my wedding rings, all still in their spots. If she took something, it wasn’t something of value. I look up and see Liam standing right behind me, arms crossed over his chest. I can’t get a read on him right now, I just know he's not happy.
“Nothing is missing that I can tell. All my ‘valuable’ stuff is still here. The rest is just clothes and shoes, which I could care less about.” He just nods his head and steps back into the bedroom.
“Can you pack a bag for tonight? And then I can have someone come tomorrow and pack up the rest of your stuff, so you won’t have to come back here.” There’s nearly no emotion in his tone, but it's authoritative. This is not up for debate, but I’m going to try anyway.
“I don’t understand, are you kicking me out?” I’m still in the bathroom, frozen.
“I can’t have you stay here, not after someone just violated your privacy and potentially stole from you, and still has a key.” That’s that then.
“Okay, well the closest hotel is in town, so if that’s what I’m going to do, I’ll just pack everything now and leave tonight.” Shortest relationship I’ve ever had. I’m really making a splash back into this whole dating thing. I’m already mentally preparing to check for flight times as soon as I’m in the car. I grab my cosmetics case and begin mindlessly pushing items into it when Liam’s at my back.
“You’re not leaving me, Bambi. I don’t know why you would even think that would be a suggestion. You’re staying at my house now.” Oh.
Liam
“Bambi?” I ask, after she doesn’t say anything for a minute. I’m still right behind her, trying to judge where she’s at based on her reflection in the mirror.
“I don’t know, Liam. I mean this is pretty new. I don’t know if that’s the best idea, me staying with you, for the whole time.” It is, though, the best idea. I've been wanting her staying at my house since before we were together. I think subconsciously I was probably thinking it the day she showed up at Broken Ridge.
“Well, I won’t let you stay in this apartment, and there’s no other place I want you than with me. If you need, you can choose a guest bedroom and sleep there.” God, I hope she doesn’t do that, but I’d understand if she did.
She’s still looking pensive, undecided. “I think it would be good for me to at least have a room where I can put all my stuff. I don’t want to encroach on your life, or imposition you at all.” Is she kidding right now? She’s not an imposition, she’s a fucking wish granted. While I do wish this wasn’t because of Tori the dementor, I’m not mad if the end result is her in my house, in my bed. Our house, our bed. That wasn’t just a slip of the tongue when I said that earlier. If she wants to do a little role playing, let’s fucking do it. My fantasy is her, with me.
“Baby, I don’t know how to make this more clear, I want you. In my life, in my house, with me. I’m sorry that I put you in this situation, but I’ll never be sorry for wanting you close to me.”
“It’s not your fault that Tori is…deranged,” she says, and a shudder runs through her body when she says ‘deranged.’ Fuck, I feel terrible that Tori is fucking with her life. I don’t care about me, but someone messing with Britain feels like my achilles heel. I’ll bleed out for her, willingly.
“It’s my fault that she’s in your life. I’m sorry, truly sorry.” She just silently nods her head in understanding. “Do you need me to grab an overnight bag from my house, so you don’t have to deal with suitcases right now?”
She shakes her head,“Um, no. I think I’ll just pack everything up now, and then I can deal with it tomorrow at your house. No use in dragging this out. It’s just a couple suitcases, and Georgia’s box.” Even better. I want to smile at her because I’m so happy she's staying with me, but I don’t want her to think I'm some sort of sociopath who can’t empathize with the fact she was just violated. So I just nod my head and offer help packing.
“What can I do to help?”
“Can you just take Georgia’s box over and choose a room to put it in?”
“Definitely. Are you okay to be here…alone? I can wait if you want.”
“No, I think I’m good. By the time you come back, I’ll have two suitcases and will probably want some help with those.” She gives me that half smile of hers, the one that tells me everything’s going to be okay.
“Okay, baby, I’ll be right back.” I lean over and place a kiss on the top of her head, and shoot her a smile through our reflection in the mirror. She returns it and my insides squeeze tightly.
I leave her in the bathroom, heading back to the living room for the U-Haul box. I grab it and head towards my house. What would she do if I put it in my room? She asked for her own room, but I don’t know, the thought of her being in my house but not my room stings. As much as that would please me, I can respect her wishes, though. I’ll put the neanderthal in me away that says she should be in my room, my cave.
When I get back to the apartment, she’s standing in the doorway. Two suitcases, a tote bag over her shoulder, and a pillow under her arm. She sees me looking at the pillow and says, “Yes, I travel with my own pillow. I’m old.” I laugh. She’s not fucking old. She still looks like a 25 year old. It’s unbelievable that she has two teenagers, and in three years she’ll have adults.
I grab both suitcases and head down the stairs quickly. I never want her worrying over this shit ever again and the sooner she’s under my roof, the better.
I’m closing our front door behind Britain when she asks, “How did she get in? How did she know I wasn’t there? Is she stalking me?” I owe her some answers. I was secretly hoping she’d just move past it, but that’s unrealistic, and unfair.
“She used a key, same way she used a key when she broke into my house. She must have made copies when she was managing the listings. I had a locksmith come change out my locks after that day, but I didn’t even think about doing the apartment. I’m sorry.
And my only guess is she was checking the Nest garage cam and doorbell cam. Which is how she knew to show up the morning after we kissed to try and get you to think the worst of me. The office has access to those feeds, so if I’m out of town, they can help the tenant if needed. Again, I failed to have the passwords changed after we let Tori go. It’s all been my fault and my mistakes that led to this…I’m sorry.” She just nods in understanding, but I still feel awful.
I wouldn’t have even known if Max and Niko hadn’t decided to snoop. I want to be pissed at them, but at the same time, that’s just shit little brothers do. And the end result is something I wanted anyways. I start moving the suitcases upstairs, but before I can maneuver them into the guest bedroom, she stops me.
“Do you want me to stay with you, in your room?” She asks so quietly, I forget that she can be really shy. It’s like getting a glimpse of that 18-year-old girl all over again.
I give her my answer in a firm tone, I hope it leaves nothing to doubt, “Yes.”
“Okay, then can you put the blue suitcase in your room and the black one with Georgia’s box?” Fuck, yes. I give her my best smile, taking the black suitcase down the hall and sliding it next to the U-Haul box. I come back to her and her suitcase, grabbing the handle in one hand and her hand in the other. I push the door open to the primary suite.
“I don’t know what I was expecting, but this was not it,” she says. Her eyes are big and she’s looking over the space. It doesn’t look like a typical bachelor’s room, I wanted it to look like a home, a space built for partners even though I’ve been perpetually single. I hoped some Kevin Costner magic would work. If you build it, she will come. I laugh to myself, no pun intended.
There’s a huge stone fireplace dividing the ensuite from the bedroom and there’s two oversized lounge chairs set up in front of it. The bed is a four-poster from Noir, and the bedding is all neutral-toned linen. The bedding matches the window treatments, which I doubled up, blackout curtains over blackout shades, all in Belgian linen. I hope she likes it.
“This is beautiful Liam. I mean, it’s like straight out of RH Ski House, but better.” I laugh at her comment. I appreciate that she’s at least interested in design, because I eat, breathe, sleep it. Well I did until she showed up. Now all I want to do is eat, breathe, sleep Britain.
“I’ll give you some time to unpack and get settled in. Just come back downstairs when you’re ready, okay?” She nods in affirmation, “But um, couple things: One, please don’t change out of that dress yet, and two, where’s your cherry bag?” She blushes instantly, pulling it out of her tote bag. I take it from her hand, unzipping it and pulling out a handful of condoms, then I put the bag on my nightstand. She’s just watching me. As I head towards the door, I turn around and give her a wink, “for the kitchen,” and she goes beet red. I fucking love it.