Chapter Twelve
L iam went back to fastening his shirt as I remained stretched out on the bed, naked, vulnerable, and more devastated than I ever could have imagined. It felt as if Liam had reached right into my chest and ripped my heart out. As if that weren’t enough, he threw the still beating muscle to the ground like so much trash. It occurred to me that it was a small miracle I was still alive; honestly, it hurt so bad I was stunned to find I hadn’t keeled over dead.
I grabbed a pillow and hugged it my chest, hiding myself from him and comforting myself all at the same time. I pushed the curls out of my face and willed myself not to cry. What had I been thinking, plunging headlong into sex with him when I knew he had to despise me for leaving town with Jessie all those years ago? If the situation were reversed...yeah, I would still love him...just like I knew, I knew , he still loved me.
He finished the last button and I sprang from the bed, moving to stand between him and the door. He’d had his say and now it was my turn.
“Move aside, Jules, we’re done here.”
“Liar!” I pointed a finger right at his chest to emphasize my argument.
He blinked. Obviously, I’d surprised him. Maybe he thought or even hoped that I’d curl up into a ball of sobbing heartbreak, but he hadn’t counted on one thing. I knew him better than anyone save myself. I knew when he was happy, sad, angry, frustrated, and being a big fat liar.
We’d spent much of our youth lying to our parents so that we could be together. We fibbed about going to the library, really, we were surfing. We prevaricated about going on a school field trip, when actually we were skipping school to hang out in San Diego for the day. And I’d stood silently beside him while he’d looked his parents right in the eye and told them we were just studying together; yeah, only if human sexuality was the subject at hand, by which I mean our hands on each other all the time.
Liam’s tell had always been to tip his head to the side and run the back of his hand over his lips, which he had just done when he told me there was nothing between us. Ha! Busted!
He raised his hands in a calm down gesture. So patronizing. Did he really think that was going to work with me?
“Listen, I get that you’re upset—” he began.
“Oh, I’m not upset,” I said, cutting him off. “No, I think a better word for what I’m feeling would be determined.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m not following.”
I laughed. “No, but you will be.”
Now he looked wary. Smart boy.
“What are you up to?”
“Me?” I tossed the pillow aside and placed my hands on my hips. He tried not to look at me standing in front of him butt naked with my chest thrust out and one knee bent in a red-carpet pose. He tried and failed.
“You.” He made it sound like a curse.
“Nothing.” I shrugged. “I am however calling you on your bullshit.”
His eyebrows shot up and he reared back as if I’d slapped him. Caught off guard, it was the perfect time for me to wrap my arms about his neck and pull him close. He hissed out a breath and I felt his crotch instinctively press closer to me.
“Jules, this doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “I’m a dude. If there’s a strong wind blowing my dick gets hard.”
“More bullshit.” I leaned up on my toes and pressed my mouth to his. I half expected him to push me away. He didn’t, so I made the kiss count. It was long and lingering, and he shuddered as if it was taking everything he had not to drag me back to bed.
Good.
“Here’s the thing,” I paused to run my lips up the side of his neck to the pulse point beneath his jaw that was beating pretty fast for a guy who said this meant nothing. “I get that you’re angry with me. You have every right to be, but there are reasons, things I can’t explain, well, it doesn’t matter. The truth is I know how I feel about you and I know you feel the same way about me, too.”
“You’re wrong,” he said. It might have helped his argument had he not said it through gritted teeth.
“I don’t think so.” I released him and stepped back, letting my eyes linger on his obvious reaction to my nearness. “I’m going to win you back.”
Liam looked equal parts aroused and affronted at my declaration. He closed his eyes and stretched his neck as if he could shrug off whatever he was feeling by cracking the tension in his shoulders. Yeah, no.
When he opened his eyes, it was clear that anger had won. He lowered his brows, looking foreboding, and took a step toward me. I refused to cover myself or back up and instead I tipped my chin up as if daring him to come closer. He did. He invaded my personal space and loomed over me. Despite wanting to touch him, I kept my hands to myself and made my face as bored as possible.
“Let me be very clear. There is no chance, none, that we are getting back together—ever,” Liam said.
I continued to stare at him like a mom patiently waiting out her child’s tantrum. Yeah, it was condescending and probably not my best strategy, but I was operating on reduced brain capacity since the man had just banged me senseless.
“I mean it, Jules,” he said. I continued to stare. “Damn it, I’m serious.”
“I’m sure you are.” I tried to sound sincere and not like I was humoring him, but I don’t think it came out that way, at least, not judging by his flared nostrils or jaw muscles bunched into hard knots.
“Years of my life were spent getting over you,” he said. “I am not going back there again. Not when I have finally moved on with my life.”
We had just slept with each other. How did he figure he’d moved on? My thoughts must have shown on my face because he stomped over to the bed and yanked off the comforter, shoving it at me.
“I’m seeing someone,” he said. “And before you ask, yes, it’s very serious.”
It was a punch to the chest that I hadn’t seen coming. I sucked in a breath as my cheeks flamed hot with mortification. He was seeing someone else? What? Who? And he’d just slept with me! Who did that?
He stared at me. “Do you get it now? I am over you.”
Well, that hurt. Oh, god, it was true what he’d said then. He really was over me. He’d just wanted to fuck me as he so nicely put it “to get me out of his system.” I felt a tiny bit queasy, okay, not a tiny bit. I was pretty sure I was going to gack on his shoes, the shoes he hadn’t even bothered to take off while we doing the horizontal mambo. Then again, I hadn’t taken off my shoes either...for some reason that leveled the playing field.
Wait a second. How could he be seeing someone and I didn’t know? Why hadn’t I seen this woman at his house, working out with him, in his yard, or at his coffee shop? If it was so serious, wouldn’t she have been around at some point since I’d been here?
“Serious, huh?” I shook out the blanket and wrapped it around myself.
“Very,” he said.
I don’t think I imagined his relief at my body being covered up. Interesting. I let the blanket drop, exposing one boob. His pupils dilated. Hmm. I let the blanket stay dropped.
“Are you going to tell her about this, about us?” I asked.
His gaze met mine. He ran a hand through his hair, making it even more mussed than it had been.
“Yeah, sure, of course,” he said. “There is nothing but honesty between us. I really value that in a woman.”
It was his way of slamming me. I got it.
“I don’t imagine she’s going to forgive you for giving your ex-girlfriend three orgasms in one evening,” I said. Yeah, because I can be bitchy like that.
He dragged his eyes up from my exposed nipple to my face, meeting my gaze with an angsty look of his own. He closed his eyes for a moment, probably trying to get his head together.
“I’m sure we’ll work it out. She’s very understanding,” he said.
“She’d have to be,” I said. Nope, not letting it go.
Liam straightened, irritation stiffening his spine before he walked around me to the bedroom door. He put his hand on the knob and turned back, saying oh so casually, “It’ll be fine, especially since I’m asking her to marry me and all.”
Boom.
He opened the door and walked through it, closing it softly behind him. I snatched up the pillow from the floor and hurled it after him. It bounced off the door and fell to the floor much like my heart. I stood staring at the closed door for a moment and then I picked up the pillow, tossing it on the bed. No. This was not over. Not even close.
Two hours later, I was sitting in a chair beside Babs’s divan—funny how no one ever sat there anymore—sipping tea and brooding when the door banged open. A ridiculous part of me hoped it was Liam, which was stupid since he didn’t exactly have a key, now did he?
I heard the click of heels on the tile foyer and then a handbag sailed into the great room, landing with a thump against the wall before it slid to the floor. Next a pair of legs came into view wearing boots that I was quite sure I had never seen before. They were black patent leather platform stilettos that went all the way up to mid-thigh, specifically Em’s thighs. She strode into the room, pairing the boots with a micro-mini skirt that outlined her butt. Huh. Little sis had booty, who knew?
Over the skirt, Em wore a cropped white halter top that showed off her toned mid-drift and her small but perky cleavage. The only thing she had on for warmth, aside from the boots, was a long black crocheted sweater with lacy accents. I squinted at her. I had never seen Em in anything other than Babs’s chosen outfits which were an homage to 1980s preppy housewife chic. While I admired Em for breaking away from headbands and Bermuda bags, she looked like she should be working a corner.
“Who are you and what have you done with my baby sister Em?” I asked.
“The name is Emily,” she said.
Em slid herself onto the divan and crossed her boots at the ankles. Well, so much for the sacred space. She closed her eyes and I noted the dark circles beneath her lashes. She was either utterly drained or possibly sauced.
“I’m guessing you didn’t wear this outfit to work,” I said. She ignored me. “Been doing some shopping?”
“Something like that.” Em didn’t open her eyes or elaborate.
Irritation battled with empathy inside of me. Of all of us, Em was taking Babs’s death the hardest. I knew I needed to be patient and yet the desire to shake her was really strong. I opted to try some humor and see if that sparked a little life in her.
“So what’s with the new duds, exactly?” I asked. “Planning a new profession, one that involves swiveling around a pole in a G-string by chance?”
“Shut up, Jules.” Em rolled away from me, pressing her face into the fabric of the couch.
I stared at the back of her head. Em was twenty-five years old. She’d just lost her mother, her best friend. I needed to be here for her and not beat her up about her current fashion choices. Clearly, she was going through stuff.
When I heard her emit a soft sigh, I rose from my seat and went into the kitchen where I texted Soph to let her know Em was home and seemingly still pissed at us. I did not mention the outfit.
When I returned to the living room, Em was snoring. Not super loud, just the exhausted deep breathing of a person who’d spent the entire day running away from herself. I got that, too.
I pulled a thick aqua afghan off an armchair and tucked it around Em so that she was completely covered. We could talk about this, whatever this was, tomorrow.
Back upstairs in my room, I was hit with the lingering scent of Liam. How had he managed to fill my bedroom with his particular scent of sea and sunshine? I glanced at the rumpled covers on my bed and actually debated going back downstairs and crashing in the chair beside Em.
He was seeing someone, but he’d made love to me. How could he do that? Had he lied just to put distance between us? That seemed highly likely, especially as I had never seen this supposed girlfriend.
It didn’t matter. I had things to tell him, important things, things that I probably should have told him nine years ago, and definitely before we got naked but, hey, it had been a really long time, and I’d been watching him for days. A girl could only take so much hotness before she got a little mental and, honestly, impulse control had always been one of my bigger issues.
I crossed the bedroom to look out across the yard. His window was dark. Not a big surprise given that his nightly workout had happened over here instead. Just the thought of it made me a little dizzy. How could he be so dismissive of what had happened between us?
I was no expert but there was a connection there that seemed to span years, miles, hurt, and betrayal. But maybe I saw it that way because I was the betrayer and not the betrayed. I so desperately wanted to tell him why I had left and explain that it hadn’t been what it seemed, that I was given no choice, but I had no idea how to get his attention and keep it, you know, while fully clothed, long enough for him to listen to me.
When designing websites, I knew the single most important feature was navigation. If a site was too hard for a user to page through, then it needed to be simplified with an intelligent use of space and a clear layout.
I stared at Liam’s window. Surely, chasing a man could not be that much different than designing a slick website, right? Nervous flutters erupted in my belly as I contemplated my crazy idea. I would use the tools at hand, Em’s boots sprang to mind, and manipulate the space between Liam and me so that he became accustomed to seeing me in his world. My invasion would be constant, relentless, and yet, with enough pull back to make him miss me when I wasn’t there. Either that, or I’d have him nervously looking over his shoulder, waiting for me to spring out at him. That mental picture made me laugh.
Yeah, I supposed I could do as Liam wished and let him have the last word, breaking things off between us forever. But I was a bit too contrary to be that accommodating, especially because if this woman he was seeing really did exist, it was as obvious to me as the nose on my face that she could not possibly be the love of his life. Firstly, because that was me, and secondly, because there was no way he could have been with me the way he had if he was head over heels for someone else. No freaking way.
There were years of hurt in between us, yes, but the Liam I had known would never, could never, be with me like that if he didn’t still have feelings for me. Even if they were really angry feelings right now, they were still feelings, and that was as good a starting place as any.