Chapter 25
twenty-five
MAYA
Me:
How’s Burlington? You feeling any better?
Ellie:
About the same. Ready to come home. Mom and Dad are really helpful when it comes to Stevie, but I think 1 night is still my limit for staying with them. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow!
Me:
Me too! I hate missing your birthday
Ellie:
How’s Liam? Keeping you entertained?
Me:
He did make the best Christmas brunch ever, but since then he’s been spiraling about Poppy having a sleepover with her boyfriend tonight
Ellie:
OMG CUTE! Go Poppy
Me:
He’s in full-on panic mode
Ellie:
Ahh, makes sense why the girl dad’s chat has been blowing up over here. These men, I swear
Me:
Idk, it’s kind of cute how protective he is
Ellie:
Cute, huh?
Me:
You know what I mean
Ellie:
Just tell him not to worry. I mean, Theo and I used to have sleepovers all the time when we were kids
Liam had to work at the diner this morning, so Poppy and I brought the stack of coloring books I got her and a whole case of glitter pens to entertain ourselves while we joined him.
I love that we have our own booth, always reserved for Liam’s daughter. There’s even a little sign that says, Poppy and friends . His manager, Belinda, made it for them.
Then we all went home to get Poppy ready for her big sleepover. I didn’t realize this will only be the second time Liam has let her stay at a friend’s house. But it makes sense. From what he’s told me, the first year and a half after her diagnosis, Poppy’s blood sugar was really difficult to control. Why would he ever want to let her out of his sight? Now that things have stabilized, he’s giving her as much freedom as he can, but it’s clear he’s still a nervous wreck about it.
When Alice comes to pick up Poppy, he makes sure she has my phone number, as well as Ezra’s, just in case.
“I need a drink.” It’s the first thing Liam says after Poppy drives off with the Calloways.
“Alice seems very responsible,” I say, teasing him. “You need to relax.”
“I know, I know. I’m just not ready for her to grow up. What happens when she doesn’t need me anymore?”
He sits down at the island and I join him. “What kind of question is that? She’ll always need you.”
“Really? You think so?” The stark difference between Liam’s parenting and my own father comes into focus. Mine was completely uninvolved in my childhood. I doubt he had any clue when I had my first sleepover, my first boyfriend, my first anything. Well, maybe he paid attention to my first business deal. But I still needed him. Even now, when I wish I didn’t.
When do any of us stop needing our parents?
“What I think is that you and Poppy have an amazing relationship. And you have all the power to keep it that way. Right now, you just need a distraction.”
“Yeah?” His head pops up, his eyes alight with mischief and pointing at me.
“I just meant you should do something other than wallow. It wasn’t an invitation, Harley.”
He hums, still gazing at me. “You’re right. I think I should take Poppy’s advice and work on breaking that curse after all.”
Liam is taking me on a date.
Well, he’s not exactly taking me anywhere. He’s making me a special dinner at home. Home . Since when has that been my favorite word?
And he did use the word date. “Would you do me the tremendous honor of going on a date with me?” The formality of it all still has me feeling fizzy all over.
As soon as I said yes, he left to go to the store for “provisions” and I took that time for an everything shower, just in case.
Now, I’m trying to pick an outfit for an at-home date night that’s casual, comfortable and somehow shows off my freshly shaved legs and expertly-conditioned curls. I settle on a cream-colored cashmere sweater dress that just skims my knees. And I easily dress it down by skipping shoes all together and pairing it with some thick scrunched socks.
By the time I’m finished taming my hair and head downstairs, Liam is already cooking. No apron this time, but a hand towel is thrown over his shoulder while he looks to be cleaning some sort of shellfish in the sink.
“Hey, beautiful,” he greets, his eyes roaming over my body. They do a full up and down take twice and I beam just a little at his assessment. “Still like oysters, right?”
“Love them,” I reply, my smile refusing to fade. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Actually,” he says, setting down his knife and wiping a hand on the towel before throwing it down too. “We’re going on a little field trip. You’re gonna help me pick the herbs.”
He glances down at my feet, another slow perusal of my bare legs. And suddenly, I’m being lifted in his arms. I squeal when my feet hit the air, Liam cradling me like a bride on her wedding night.
He carries me outside and into the greenhouse. There’s still at least a foot of snow on the ground and he says he won’t be allowing me to change my outfit.
I’m not sure why I’ve never been in here before, but now I worry I’ll need a daily fix. The humid air might be quickly ruining my hair, but the scent alone has me not really giving a shit.
“Wow,” I say for the third time, dumbfounded. The small glass structure looks and feels like a tropical oasis. I wander through the small space, sniffing basil and rosemary and gorgeous white flowers that I can’t even try to name.
Bright orange petals call to me, their color so saturated and vibrant among the green. “Are these poppies?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Liam says, coming up behind me. He places a hand on my right shoulder. “I’m working on a garden across from the diner, wanted to have some ready to go as soon as spring is here.
“She’s going to love that.”
“I hope so.”
I keep moving, sticking my nose anywhere I can, inhaling all the herbs and flowers like I’m some kind of herbology addict. And then it hits me, why I’m so infatuated with the scent.
“It smells like you,” I say, leaning into Liam. He’s stayed close to me while I roamed, never more than a few inches away. Now, his arm comes around my waist, holding me to him. “I could never pinpoint what exactly you smelled like. In my head it was an enchanted forest, but it’s just the greenhouse.”
“I hope it’s a good smell. I’m in here almost every day.”
“It’s my favorite sme?—”
Before I can finish my sentence, Liam’s fingertips thread through my hair, grabbing a fistful and wrapping it tightly around his hand. He tilts my head back just enough to kiss me. His lips feel urgent, needy, like he’s been waiting to do this for a lifetime.
Everything about our relationship has been strange. The night we met that I only partially remember, running into him in this tiny town that I lost my best friend to, living at his house, and falling in love with his daughter while trying to decide if my heart can handle falling for him at the same time. It’s all been a whirl of emotions.
But right now, Liam kissing me, one hand in my hair with the other coiled tightly around my waist, the sound of him sighing into my mouth like I’m giving him life, there is zero confusion. Only clarity.
I might not be ready to make any promises. I’m probably still too messed up from Ryan to consider an actual relationship. But I want to remember the rest of my night with Liam.
I want to recreate it.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pouring everything I’m feeling into our kiss. We kiss, and kiss, and kiss, until it feels like it’s just us steaming up the greenhouse.
He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine while he catches his breath. “I can’t believe I wasted a minute being upset over Poppy’s sleepover. Not when it means I can finally do this, no interruptions.” His hands glide down the sides of my body, pressing deeper at each dip and curve. “Fuck dinner. This is what we’re doing the rest of the night.”
He hooks both hands around the back of my thighs and lifts me until he can set me down on the ledge. I’m nestled in between his beloved herbs while his hands roam under my dress and his fingertips press into my skin.
“I thought you lived to feed me?” I whine, my voice breaking when I feel his hands start to wander again.
“If you were hungry, you should have considered that before showing off these legs. Now, all I can think about is having them wrapped around me.” Liam’s lips find my neck, the shell of my ear. “How would you feel about just having oysters and dessert?”
“You want to skip the main course?”
“Definitely not.” He picks me up again, so suddenly I start to giggle. This time, he carries me back outside toward the house, the basket of herbs forgotten. “You’re going to be the main course tonight.”
He doesn’t set me down until we reach the kitchen island.
“I think this is where we left off last time,” he whispers in my ear. His hands grip the hem of my dress and slide it up and away until I’m only in my underwear.
“Last time? Oh.” He’s talking about the first time we kissed. Well, the second first time. When I asked him to show me everything I’d forgotten.
“Do you still want?—”
“Yes,” I urge, a bit too enthusiastically. “All of it.”
His hands slide down my back, calluses gently biting my bare skin. “You were wearing a dress like that one,” he murmurs against my neck, gesturing to my dress pooled on the floor. “And once I took it off you, I swore I’d never let you put it back on.”
I whimper as his lips move down my throat. “Burn it. You can keep me warm.”
He chuckles and the vibration on my skin just does things to me. “So,” I start. “Did we stay in the kitchen the whole time or?—”
His hands gripping my ass silence me. They glide across my thighs until he’s wrapped them securely around his waist. And then we’re moving again.
“We used the whole apartment.”
“Oh.” I’ve always hated that apartment. It’s so cold and sterile. Maybe after tonight, I’ll be able to think of it more fondly.
“This might not be exactly how it went that night,” he says, sitting down on the couch. He repositions my legs until I’m straddling him and he grabs onto my ass again. “But I’ve been wanting you in this position every day for weeks. Let’s take advantage of the alone time.”
We’re kissing again, and his hands are roaming. He cradles my lower back and dips me, his mouth finding the hollow between my breasts. His beard tickles my sensitive skin while he unhooks my bra and tosses it onto the floor. We’re starting to leave a trail of clothing.
An image flashes in my head, my apartment in New York, clothing scattered around every room, my thong hanging from a knife rack. It’s all I get, just a sliver of a memory, like my brain is only willing to provide enough evidence to corroborate his story.
I want more.
I push forward, roll my hips against his lap, hard enough to make him groan.
“Take me to bed. I’m ready for the main course.”