26. Madison #2
Her question is the pinprick that slowly deflates the joy ballooned in my heart.
I sigh. “I don’t know. I really don’t like the idea of a long-distance relationship.
At least, not for an extended time. I also really don’t like the idea of moving to Houston.
A relationship with Liam doesn’t actually make very much sense.
Maybe starting something with him is the wrong thing to do. ”
I pause, trying to find words for how I feel.
Clara waits patiently for me to continue.
“But cutting him out of my life feels more wrong. It’s like my gut knows we’re supposed to be together, even if my head can’t wrap itself around how we’re going to make it work on a practical level.
I guess we’ll just cross each bridge as it comes. Forge our own way forward.”
Clara smiles at me. “I have to say, I’m impressed at your willingness to go with the flow here. Are you sure you don’t have a secret Excel spreadsheet somewhere with check boxes mapping out your future relationship?” she teases, and I laugh heartily.
“Now that you mention it, maybe that’s not a terrible idea,” I quip back.
“Would Liam want to join us for Tuesday dinner this week?” Clara asks hopefully.
“Ehhh, that might be a stretch. Close friendships haven’t really been his . . . thing in the past. I might need to slowly ease him into the friend group,” I say. “But I’ll work on it.”
Clara gives me an impish grin. “If he kisses you anything like you claim he does, I have a feeling it might be easier than you think to convince him to play along with any request from you.”
After my abbreviated barre workout and lengthy conversation with Clara, I head home to get some work done on the dream manuscript I’m editing.
Elizabeth, the author, contracted me to do both copyediting and proofreading.
She sent it to me last week, and I’m taking extra time to ensure I don't miss a thing.
Although I shouldn’t be surprised, I’m disappointed to see the empty driveway, meaning Liam’s probably at the factory putting in some extra hours on this Sunday afternoon.
It’s a good thing he’s gone, Madison. You need to get some of your own work done. You have to nail it with this author if you hope to land more clients like her.
I decide to take an extra few minutes to make a cup of matcha for an afternoon boost of energy.
Filling Liam’s water kettle and programming it to the green tea temperature, I begin sifting the matcha powder into a bowl.
When the kettle chimes, I pour a small amount of water into the bowl and whisk it side to side with my bamboo whisk.
Once it’s frothy, I pour it into a mug to add the rest of the water.
When I make matcha in the mornings, I usually add half milk and half water to make a matcha latte, but I settle for just water this afternoon. I drizzle maple syrup into the tea to sweeten it. Carrying the steaming mug to my bedroom, I set it on the desk and turn on all of the Christmas lights.
I pull up a snowy Christmas ambience scene on my tablet, and compare it to the hot, sunny summer outside the window. If I did move here permanently, I would sure miss snowy winters.
Turning to my laptop, I drill down my focus on Elizabeth’s manuscript. I’m about a third of the way through and loving every second. About an hour later, I’m distracted by Hamlet’s loud meow. He’s sitting just outside the door to my bedroom, looking at me with those intense eyes of his.
Meow.
“You want to come in here, Hammie?”
Meow.
Rising from the desk, I move to the doorway and scoop him into my arms. “I suppose since we’re friends now, you can come into my room. As long as you promise to behave. Remember—no double crosses, okay?” I tell him.
Meow.
After nuzzling him briefly, I set him down on the floor so I can resume editing. He trots over to my Christmas tree, giving it a thorough sniff inspection. When he’s satisfied with his findings, he crawls under the tree and sprawls onto his side, looking up at the lights.
Smiling, I tell him, “That used to be my favorite thing as a kid, too, Hammie. I’d lie under the tree and look up through the center to see the rainbow of lights filtering through the branches.
Sorry that these are just white lights and not multicolor.
Maybe I should have gone with my kid taste instead of refined adult preferences. ”
Meow.
Hamlet quietly keeps me company for another hour as I continue reading and making corrections to the manuscript. I’m just thinking about pausing to make dinner when I hear the front door open.
“Madison? Hamlet?” Liam’s voice calls.
“In here!” I yell back. He steps into view in the doorway, taking in the sight of Hamlet curled up under the tree beside me.
“Off limits, huh?” he jokes.
“You know that Hammie and I have an understanding now,” I say, not missing his flinching reaction to my nickname for Hamlet. I stand and saunter toward him. “What? Am I really not allowed to call him that?”
Liam sighs. “Hana always shortened our cats’ names to girlie nicknames—Ophelia, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern became Ophie, Rosie, and Gilly. I’ve tried to hold my ground when she calls him ‘Ham.’ He’s a dignified cat. It’s insulting.”
“Wow, your family really is serious about Shakespeare,” I remark. Liam smiles and shrugs in response. “Okay, so Hana isn’t allowed to shorten his name. Buuut, does the ban extend to me as well?” I slowly wrap my arms around his waist as I ask, tilting my head back and giving him sad eyes.
“Those puppy eyes won’t get you anywhere with me,” he chides. But I feel the muscles in his back tensing in response to my touch.
I glare at him.
“That fiery gold spark in your eyes might get you somewhere, though,” he says before threading his fingers through my hair and pulling my mouth to his.
Every time Liam kisses me, it gets better and better. Like our lips were meant for each other, and every time they meet, they fuse together more perfectly. This kiss is more playful than last night’s urgent, desperate kisses, but it’s just as intense. Just as consuming.
When Liam releases me, I inhale a deep breath, gathering my wits from the corners of the earth he just scattered them to. “That was a yes to calling him ‘Hammie,’ right?”
“You’re relentless,” he sighs.
“I thought you liked that about me,” I tease.
Liam smirks. “You are absolutely right. It might just be my demise. Or, at least, the demise of Hamlet’s dignity.”
On cue, Hamlet snakes between our feet, loudly meowing on his way to the kitchen.
“Dinner time?” I ask.
Liam leans closer to me and murmurs, “I mean, we can pause to eat dinner if you want to.”
I’m having a hard time thinking about anything other than the feel of his lips when they’re hovering so close to mine. “Hammie could practice a little patience for a few minutes,” I say, voice breathy.
Rather than meeting my lips with his, Liam gently brushes kisses along my jaw, leaving a trail of shivering fire on his way to my neck. “He hasn’t learned a lot of patience, I suppose,” he murmurs in my ear, “since I don’t have much patience myself.”
“Me either,” I say as I turn his face to bring his lips to mine. Liam steps closer, my back pressing against the door frame, our lips soldered together just like they’re meant to be.
Milliseconds before I lose all sense of reality, I press Liam’s chest away from me. Gasping a breath, I say, “Okay. We need to lay some ground rules.”
“Okay,” Liam says, eyes locked on mine. “Rule one: Hamlet’s name is Hamlet, not Hammie.”
“Ha ha,” I huff, lightly punching him in the chest, and he laughs. “I’m serious. This is a little unconventional, us being roommates first and then starting a relationship. Rules must be made.”
He stands up straight, a smile still playing at his lips.
“That’s reasonable. Here’s rule number one for real: you sleep in your room, I sleep in mine.
No sleeping together in any sense of the word.
I need the firm boundary line drawn, or the intensity of kissing you is going to derail all self-control.
The nights by the fireplace nearly did me in. ”
While I’m usually the direct one in conversations, my heart pounds and heat floods my cheeks at his blunt declaration. Swallowing hard, I nod agreement. Narrowing my eyes, I say, “Rule two: no coming into the house shirtless after your morning runs.”
A devilish smile spreads across Liam’s face, and he leans an arm on the door frame above my head. “Rule three,” he says, “no stealing any of my clothes to wear.”
I give him a quizzical look. “What? I’ve never stolen any of your clothes.”
“This is a preemptive rule,” he says. “I’m telling you in advance that I couldn’t handle seeing you wear my clothes. If I leave a hoodie lying around, you keep your grabby little paws off.”
I give him a sultry smile. “Well, now you’re just giving me ideas.”
Liam growls, and says, “You’re adding it to the list. At least, I’m pretty confident your Type-A brain was planning to write down these rules. Are we signing an official contract? Should I be calling a notary?”
“Mmm, don’t threaten me with a good time,” I tease in a low voice, and I see the spark in his eyes that’s a precursor to his lips finding mine. I cut him off before he can distract me. “Rule four: you have to keep talking to me.”
He backs away a touch, searching my expression.
I clarify, “We’re starting a real relationship.
This is not a physical fling. It’s pretty evident that both of us could easily spend all day making out, but you have to keep talking to me.
Keep sharing more about yourself. I want to know you better. I want you to know me better.”
Between the silent pause and the contemplative expression on his face, I know he’s seriously weighing my demand. He finally says, “Okay. I swear I’ll try. I might need a little help in the opening up department, but I’ll try. I promise.”
“Rule number whatever number we’re on: I’m gonna need you to resurrect that British accent,” I say, grasping his shirt and tugging him closer to me.
“Aren’t you demanding?” he murmurs, leaning in. I detect a hint of posh English as he adds, “Good thing you’re also irresistible, love.”
Before his lips can reach mine, there’s an alarming hiss as Hamlet’s paw aggressively swats at Liam’s ankle.
“All right, all right, we’ll feed you,” Liam says, giving Hamlet an evil glare. Hamlet glares right back.
“Let’s go, Hammie!” I call on my way to the kitchen, voice obnoxiously chipper.
Liam groans.