Chapter 46 Liam
forty-six
Liam
A Couple Hours Later
Steam dissipates from the shower.
I dry off, replaying the night in my mind.
Killer show. My family was proud. Avonna pale and shaking, Seamus urging a pregnancy test. Her fierce insistence she won’t be hidden anymore.
All the while, Linus’s eyes were on me. Silent. Knowing.
I’ve been a fucking coward for too long. I love them both and I know I don’t deserve either of them.
The mirror fogs. I wipe it clean. My reflection stares back, bare and unguarded.
Enough.
I pull on a T-shirt and joggers. Step back into the bedroom of our hotel suite.
Linus sits on the couch, shoes off, posture folded in on himself. Avonna lies across his lap, knees tucked. She looks smaller than she did an hour ago. Paler. Her eyes lift when I enter.
“Hey,” I say.
Linus shifts immediately, making room. “Come here.”
I sit on the edge of the couch. Avonna reaches for my hand and holds it tighter than usual. Linus strokes her hair. No one rushes to speak.
“You feelin’ any better?” I finally venture.
She nods once, then shakes her head, frustrated with herself. “I’m okay.”
I watch her free hand drift to her stomach without her realizing it.
The room is warm. Too warm. Adrenaline still zaps under my skin, but fear has started to edge it out. Sharp and cold. Until tonight, I didn’t realize how close I was to losing her.
“You want a shower?” I ask. “Might feel good.”
“Yeah.” She blinks up at me. “Please.”
We don’t rush her. Linus helps her stand, arm firm around her back. I grab a towel, turn on the bathroom light, test the water with my wrist before she even asks.
She undresses and steps under the spray. Exhales like she’s been holding herself together with string. Steam starts to rise. Linus leans against the vanity, fully dressed. I sit on the closed toilet lid, watching her wash the night’s performance down the drain.
“I didn’t mean to blow up,” she sighs, water running over her shoulders. “The pregnancy thing threw me.”
I close my eyes. “You didn’t do anythin’ wrong.”
“Aye.” Linus nods. “You told the truth.”
I swallow. The seat is cool through my joggers.
“I’m tired,” she says as she shampoos her hair. “I hate having to shrink.”
The water keeps running. No one interrupts.
“I’m tired of pretending I don’t notice when you pull away,” she continues. “When you choose silence over love. When you think protecting Padraig means hiding me.”
I shift, shoulders tight. “I thought I was buyin’ time.”
“For what?” She peers at me through the glass.
Neither of us answers right away.
I stand, step closer to her. “I guess I thought if I waited long enough, it would get easier.”
“It doesn’t.” She looks me in the eye. “It just teaches your body you aren’t worth being loved.”
Her words land like a right hook.
Linus exhales. “I’m not ashamed of us.”
“Then stop acting like you are,” she says gently. No venom. No theatrics. Just exhaustion.
Linus grabs a washcloth and cleans the stage makeup from her arms and neck like he often does after a show. He doesn’t treat her like she’s fragile. When she’s rinsed off, the two of us wrap her in towels and guide her back into the bed.
I scan the room service menu and order soup, bread, and salads.
She sits cross-legged on the bed, naked, hair damp and curling. She looks smaller now. Younger. The bravado from the stage stripped away.
“So, I’m pretty sure Seamus was on to something. I might be pregnant.” She pulls the sheet up around her.
Linus’s hand pauses on the duvet. I sit on the edge of the bed, heart thudding in my ears. We glance at each other. Not panicked. Or celebratory. The sobering possibility settles between us.
“I’ll run out and get a test.” He stands. “There’s a drugstore a block away.”
“Okay.” She pulls her knees up. “Either way, things have to change.”
I think about the way my family looked at her tonight. The kindness. The warmth. The unspoken line I refused to cross. How I introduced her to them as a role instead of a truth.
“If you are,” I squeeze my eyes shut, “I promise I won’t keep doing this halfway.”
She reaches for my hand. “I’ve got to hold you to it, Liam.”
“We’ll do it together.” Linus crosses the room and takes her other hand.
She looks at him. “Will you tell your parents?”
“Aye.” He doesn’t hesitate.
She turns to me, eyes filling with tears.
“I don’t want my child growin’ up learning silence from me.” I lean forward, press my forehead to hers. “I’m done hidin’.”
While Linus runs our important errand, Avonna and I huddle in bed waiting for room service. He’s back within ten minutes and the three of us eat. Quiet except for the clink of spoons.
Linus keeps refilling her water. Eventually, she has to use the bathroom and she takes the test in with her. The three of us wait, checking the clock like time might be something we can manage if we watch it closely enough.
None of us are surprised with two pink lines appear, clear as day.
Later, when she’s curled into sleep between us, I stay awake, staring at the ceiling.
This baby is a line in the sand for our family.
How are we going to show up for our child?
Linus reaches for my hand in the dark. “You okay?”
“No,” I admit. “But I will be.”
He squeezes once. Solid. Certain.
Avonna shifts, breath steady now.
Whatever comes next, we don’t walk into it alone.
Not anymore.