Chapter 29
The smell of garlic and the sound of chopping wakes me up from my nap. I don’t remember falling asleep. The last thing I remember is Liam telling me that he wanted to date me. Me—little Sloane Callahan.
Following the sound, I find Liam chopping away with something sizzling in the pot on the stove, and Gigi dutifully sitting at his heels, hoping he drops something.
“What’s going on in here?” I ask, taking a seat at the kitchen island and facing Liam as he cuts some mushrooms.
“I told you, I’m making you lasagna tonight,” he says, looking up and giving me a smile. “How was your nap?”
“Good,” I say with a leftover yawn. “I needed it. I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“How come?” he asks, stopping his chopping so I have his full attention. My heart skips a beat. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having his undivided attention.
“I don’t know. I just kept replaying what you said over and over,” I tell him.
“What about it?” he asks, moving to stir whatever is sizzling in the pot.
“Nothing, just what it meant,” I say shyly.
“What you said about the accident . . . I felt like an idiot—stupid and immature. I just felt really bad about having avoided you for years. I felt horrible over the fact that you were right; if it wasn’t for you almost dying, we never would have gotten back in touch.
Time would have just kept going without you in my life.
Like you, I came to the realization that the accident is what brought us back together, and it made me feel bad. ”
“There’s nothing to feel bad about,” he says, sliding his hand across the kitchen island to touch his fingertips to mine. The small touch settles my thoughts.
“Now, how about you go relax, take a bath, read a book, or whatever it is you do to relax while I finish cooking,” he instructs with a smile and a tap to the top of my hands.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” I ask, wanting to be in his space.
“I’m sure. You played hooky for the first time today, enjoy it!” he jokes. “Go relax and let me make you supper, please?”
It’s the please at the end of his request that gets me moving back toward my bedroom.
As much as watching Liam in the kitchen was making my heart do silly things, the thought of a bath was too much to resist. I haven’t taken the time to relax in a few weeks—since Liam has been here.
One of the negative sides of actively trying to avoid him, I guess.
I’m ashamed to say I haven’t been taking advantage of the nice soaker tub. Apart from all the windows, it was a big reason why I chose this house. No time like the present, though. I mean, Liam is right! This is the first time in my life that I’ve play hooky. I might as well do it right!
Grabbing my Kindle from my bedroom, I head to the bathroom. As the water runs, I decide to go all out—not something I usually do when taking a bath. I head back out to the living room, picking up my favorite salted caramel candle, and a bottle of water. Nothing dehydrates me more than a hot bath.
Back in the bathroom, I add more vanilla-scented bubble bath, dim the lights, and sink deep into the warm bubbles.
The second my body is submerged, I let out a long breath.
The man is a genius sometimes . . . when he’s not being a dick.
What woman doesn’t enjoy a relaxing bath followed by a homemade meal from the man they’re falling for all over again.
This time, falling for Liam feels different. It’s not a whirlwind obsession like when I was a kid. This is warm, slow, comforting. It’s like watching a flower bloom in the spring. Happy. Light. Effortless. Just thinking about it brings a smile to my face.
I’m not naive enough to believe that it’ll be all smooth sailing this time. We both have things to work on. Liam, with everything about the accident. And I need to realize that not everything is about me, that he is going through something that, hopefully, I will never understand.
That’s not the only issue, the little voice inside my head reminds me.
She’s not wrong. This—learning each other—is going to be the easiest part.
Liam doesn’t live here, plus he’s my older brother’s best friend.
Ronan is probably going to be a whole other issue.
One I’m not ready to face. I know he loves both Liam and I, but I doubt he’s going to love Liam and I together, no matter how chill of an older brother he is.
I feel the anxiety rise inside of me at thoughts of the future. It’s counterproductive to my bath. I’m here to relax, to enjoy the quiet, and catch up on some reading. Shaking my head to get rid of my spiralling thoughts, I sink lower into the water and grab my Kindle.
I must have lost track of time, because the next thing I know, my water is cold and Liam is knocking at the door. “You almost ready to come out? Supper should be ready in about fifteen,” he says.
“I was just getting out,” I tell him before I hear his footsteps and the clack of his cane move away from the door, heading back toward the kitchen.
I’m shivering the moment I stand up from the tub so I decide to take a quick shower to warm up before getting dressed and making my way to the kitchen.
I’m hit with the smell of gooey cheese and childhood memories the second I open the bathroom door. Why did I agree to take a bath when I could have then bathed in this smell all afternoon?
I waste no time running to my bedroom, wrapped in only a towel. I haphazardly throw on the first sweatshirt my hands land on, my coffee-colored leggings, and bright pink fuzzy socks, not caring that I probably look like a rainbow. I need that lasagna!
I slide on my socks Tom Cruise style, as I rush into the kitchen—the real reason I live in fuzzy socks.
“What are you doing?” Liam asks with a rumbling laugh, seeing how I entered the kitchen.
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this lasagna over the years? Craved it? Tried to replicate it?” I ask him.
Tilting his head to the side, he looks me up and down before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me before? I would have made it for you.”
“Would you have?” I challenge right back.
“I think you were spending way too much energy turning off the timers on my grow lights or being a dick to take the time to make me a lasagna,” I say, raising a brow at him and crossing my arms over my chest. “I highly doubt you would have made me a lasagna even if I would have begged.”
He doesn’t say a word, just stands there looking at me, running his tongue along his upper teeth. Wordlessly, he turns around and opens the oven. But before taking out the lasagna, he looks at me over his shoulder and says, “Nice sweatshirt, by the way.”
Looking down, I noticed that in my hurry to get to my lasagna, I grabbed Liam’s sweatshirt. He must have left it there when he left my room earlier. My cheeks and neck instantly heat and redden. “I . . . I wasn’t paying attention. I . . . I was just hungry. I didn’t mean to . . .” I stumble.
“I can go change,” I offer, even though now that I know I’m wearing Liam’s sweatshirt, the last thing I want to do is change.
The moment I turn to go back to my room to change, Liam says, “Don’t. I like seeing you in my clothes.”
And just like that, my frown turns into a small smile and my cheeks darken.
I didn’t think my face could get hotter, but somehow, it happens.
Not knowing what else to do, I quickly move to the fridge and open the door, trying to cool my cheeks.
My quick movement only makes him laugh again.
I don’t think I’ve heard him laugh this much before.
I huff at the thought. I’m pretty sure I’ve thought that on more than one occasion over the last few weeks.
He keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure.
“Come on, get out of the fridge before you give yourself a brain freeze and go sit at the table. The lasagna is ready,” he says.
I look over to find him concentrating on the lasagna, but I can hear the smirk in his voice. Not knowing what else to do, which keeps my cheeks red, I dutifully make my way to the table.
He even set the table. He somehow found the placemats and linen napkins I have never gotten around to using.
There’s even wine in the decanter Cassie bought me but that we never got around to using, always too impatient to wait for the wine to properly decant before drinking so we simply poured straight from the bottle.
I don’t have to wait long before the perfect piece of lasagna is placed in front of me. Immediately, my mouth starts to water. It’s perfect.
“You good there?” Liam asks sarcastically.
“Don’t you dare ruin this for me!” I say back, trying to find the perfect first bite.
Every bite will be perfect—just look at it.
Not wanting to waste any more time, I take a bite.
I can’t stop the deep moan that escapes my mouth as my eyes roll to the back of my head.
The bechamel sauce balances out the tomatoes, and the basil on top just adds the perfect little extra touch.
“God, it’s better than I remember,” I comment after going through the ten stages of a religious experience with just that one bite.
With a little happy dance, I dig in for another bite.
“Seriously. Next time, just ask for the damn lasagna, Sloane,” Liam says, bringing my attention to him as I chew.
I swallow. “It’s that much better being surprised with it,” I tell him, which just makes him shake his head and dig in.
The rest of the meal is finished in silence, though, not in perfectly comfortable silence.
The air is charged with emotions. Some of it being nerves and awkwardness because of what happened earlier.
It’s weird; we’ve never been awkward or weird around each other.
It’s always been peaceful, easy. But right now, we’re stuck in another will they, won’t they that we seem to be skirting around more often than not lately.
It’s somewhat annoying. I don’t like not knowing what’s going to happen.
Although, this does feel date-ish—more than any other time we’ve shared a meal.
He did say he wanted to see how things went between us. Is this a date for him? Am I wearing a baggy sweatshirt with my wet hair in a messy braid on my first date with Liam Jones, the guy I’ve been dreaming about for longer than normal?
“Stop stressing,” Liam says, looking at me, his plate clean. Looking down, I see that mine is clean too. I didn’t get to enjoy the meal as much as I should have, too preoccupied with whatever is going on between us right now.
Unable to hold in my building frustration any longer I ask, “What is this? What’s going on between us?”
He raises an eyebrow at my sudden outburst. “We’re sharing a meal, then I’d like to watch a movie with you, then go to bed. Preferably in the same bed, so we can both sleep.”
He knows what I mean, yet he decides to tease me. Why does this man have such a hold on me?