Chapter 22 Liam
Liam
Want to try something new for your first date?
Take them to get the worst coffee you know of.
That’s what Jane (name changed for anonymity) does for the more than fifty men she goes out with each year.
But Jane isn’t exactly looking for a second date.
No, these men are ones who seek her out for her services: to have a date for an event.
Why bad coffee? Well, we all think we know the person we are, but when coffee grounds coat your tongue and you’re fighting off gagging in front of the barista who made it, that’s a whole different story.
And that’s how she gets her dates to talk: bad coffee. The thing is, you want to tell her everything because she makes it so damn easy. She sits and listens and for the first time in your life you feel not just listened to but understood.
You want to return the favor. You want to know her. But she won’t let you. She won’t let you care about her. You try and you try and you try and—
“The words are just pouring out of you, aren’t they?” Dad asks. His lips wear an amused tilt from where he’s standing on the other end of the table looking down at me.
I lift my hands from the keys and place them in my lap, knowing that I’ll have to delete some of what I’ve just written.
I came to the lodge this morning to write, setting myself up at one of a collection of tables set around the central hearth in the lobby, because I need to make significant headway on this article if I’m going to submit it in time for it to go live on New Years.
I sure as hell am not able to be productive when I’m in the house with Henri.
She’s so fucking deep in my head and I can’t get past what happened yesterday in the library.
But every time I get close, she shoves me away.
It’s the smart thing—the right thing. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Yeah, they do that sometimes. When I’m really into it, I work for five hours straight.”
“That can’t be good on the bladder.” He places a hand on the back of the chair across from me. “May I?”
“Go ahead.” I nod.
“I know your mother doesn’t want me talking about this, but you and I haven’t really had a chance to chat, just the two of us.” His fingers knit together, hands resting on the dark stained wood separating us.
“You’ve been busy and we’ll have time later. I know I’m not at the top of the priority list right now—there’s the fundraiser and all the other holiday madness.”
“Your sister is working so hard to put that together.” He heaves a sigh.
“I’m just so worried she’s going to overexert herself, and I can’t stop thinking about if she gets injured.
She’s got a decade left before retirement and a coaching career that will follow that. Keep an eye out for her will you?”
“I will,” I promise.
“It’s so good to know that I can count on you again. And you know, I don’t want you to stop your writing thing. You can do a newsletter about the lodge. A monthly thing and you can have complete control over it—no pesky editors to tell you what to do.”
“Sounds like a great idea, Dad.” I try to sound enthusiastic at the idea of a newsletter that would be created only to be deleted the moment it hits people’s email inboxes. But at least he’s trying?
His phone chimes with a text and he pulls it out to check.
“Duty calls. Only ever a few moments of peace during this season. Go home, spend time with that New York girl of yours. Maybe you can pull a Christmas miracle and convince her to move here.” He puts his phone down and digs out his keychain—a vintage style we sell in the gift shop—and slips a key from the loop. “Speaking of which.”
He tosses it at me and I manage to catch it before it thuds against the table. Unfurling my hands, I find a gold key resting between my palms.
“Dad, this is the key to the cabin.” There are plenty of cabins on the property, though online we call them luxury chateaus, fitted with fun additions like personal saunas and game rooms. But this cabin, like the main house, is something just for family.
“Didn’t think you were going to live with your parents, did you?
I thought it would be the perfect place.
Spend a few days there and catalog any maintenance issues we need to take care of before all your stuff arrives,” he suggests before his phone chimes again, this time with a call that he picks up as he walks away.
I put in another ten minutes of attempting to work on the article, get maybe fifty more okay-ish words in, and decide to call it a day.
Outside the lodge, I’m about to text Henri to tell her I’m on the way back, but there she is, walking toward me.
Well not me—she doesn’t see me—but in my general direction.
She smiles at something Pen says, and I notice Mom is with them and they all have skis propped over their shoulders.
I guess that’s what she got up to when I was working.
I take the moment to just watch, etching the image of her into my head.
Then she sees me. God she sees me and I’m surprised the snow doesn’t melt around her with how she brightens like the damn sun breaking free from a cloud.
“Liam!” Pen yells, her voice threatening to shatter my eardrums as she waves.
I jog up to meet them and kiss Henri, holding her cold cheeks in my hands.
“Good time on the slopes?” I ask.
But Henri isn’t the one who replies, Pen is. “Someone had to take her.”
“I was going to,” I protest.
“But you only go on the kiddie slopes and the toddlers pass you.” Pen scrunches her nose.
I turn to Henri. “I really was going to take you. I can again later if you want.”
“I believe you. That could be fun.”
“She really was a natural,” Mom says. “Productive morning?”
“I got a bit done. Hard to stay on track knowing she’s around.” My arm slips to hug Henri’s side. “Dad gave me the key to the cabin; he suggested we take a few days there.”
Mom puts a hand over her heart. “Oh, you have to. You had the best times there as kids.”
“If you call getting up at five in the morning for bootcamp good times,” Pen mutters.
“What are you signing us up for, Liam?” Henri teases.
“My dad would take us up there for a week each year and put us through a bit of a training camp. There’s a solid run there and it’s private so we never had to worry about anyone else getting in the way,” I explain.
“You know, normal family bonding,” Pen adds.
“Who wants to be normal?” Henri asks. “Count me in, especially if that means I get a few days alone with you.”
“You best head into town to stock up on groceries,” Mom suggests. “And if you leave this evening, I can make sure to have my gingerbread ready so we can make the houses before you leave. How does that sound?”
“Great, Ally,” Henri says.
“Amazing, well I better get that started.” Mom leaves us, heading to store her skis.
“Can we keep her?” Pen asks, leaning into Henri so their shoulders smoosh together. “I know you guys aren’t really together, but please? I like her too much.”
Henri lets out a strangled laugh as an unreadable expression flashes across her face. “Could be fun.”
“Don’t be weird, she’s not a kitten you found in a box by the tavern,” I admonish.
Pen turns to Henri. “Even if you don’t like him, we can still talk and hang out. I’m objectively more fun, so honestly, it’s the better deal.”
A soft sad smile tugs at Henri’s lips. “Only if you promise to pretend to hate me when I break up with him. Like make me your worst enemy.”
“God, why?” Pen jerks back.
Henri reaches behind me and I feel her fingers against my back pocket and she works my notebook and pen free.
I have to try particularly hard not to think about the lingering feel of her hand on my ass.
She places them in my hand and nods. I flip to a blank page and only then does she start.
“Because Liam is going to tell everyone I broke his heart—I did the worst thing we can think of. I get to walk away as the villain and no one doubts that it was real. That way, there’s no going back. ”
At her final words, her gaze snags against mine. I don’t know what to say to that.
“Well that’s shitty.” Pen shrugs. “But I can play along.”
The three of us head to our family’s storage area where we store our gear.
It looks like a small locker room, and protein bars and electrolyte drinks are always available on one table, just in case we need the boost. Next to them is a typed-up training plan with Pen’s name on it.
A hand darts out to swipe it before I can read more than the first few lines, but I’d know Dad’s style anywhere.
“You don’t need to listen to him, you know?” I say to Pen. “He’s not your coach anymore.”
“I do. But it’s easier to let him have his way, and it’s nice to get a different perspective.
It’s only for two weeks.” I can’t tell if she means it or if she’s trying to brush me off.
“And according to this, I have a massage right now, which sounds really nice. You two have fun preparing for your fuck fest,” she hollers the last bit as she runs for the door.
“Pen!”
“Who knows, anything could happen in the cabin! Oh, they moved the condoms to aisle three!” She ducks out as she makes herself laugh.
I shake my head. “I don’t even want to think about why she knows that.”
“I’m hoping she forgets about us, about me,” Henri says, still wearing that odd expression.
“You aren’t going to stay in touch?” I join her where she’s sitting on a bench along one wall.
She lays her head on my shoulder and grabs my hand, running the tips of her fingers over the creases in my knuckles. “I like her, but it’s a bad idea. It’s always the hardest when I like the family.”
“You like my family?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“So, tell me, how will you break my heart?” I try to make it sound like a joke, but the ache in my chest gets in the way.
“I pick a fight with you.” She drops my hand, shifting away so she can look at me. Her eyes well with emotion. “I tell you it’s me or the lodge. You choose the lodge because it’s your family legacy and I’m being selfish, not even willing to try and figure out how we can have both.”
“That is shitty.” She helps people only to be remembered as a bad person. “I don’t want my family to see you like that. Let it be my fault. Let them think I’m the asshole.”
“You wanted to know my process, right? This is the way it is.” She pulls away. “Let’s go get those groceries.”