19. Chloe
CHLOE
Liam is a whole different person when he’s around his parents.
From the second that we walked in to his childhood home, he seemed a bit more relaxed and a lot more open.
Not that he isn’t that way back in Chicago, but back home it's as if he has to be the big shot hockey player all the time that has his face plastered all over the city. The few times that we’ve gone out in public, whether to the grocery store or to pick up food, its ass if he puts on this persona that sometimes is still on within the four walls of his home.
With his parents though, it’s as if he’s still the kid that grew up in Missouri and doesn’t have anything to worry about but make his parents happy.
I was a little worried about making the trip down to St. Louis, but from the second that I stepped through the door, I was happy with my decision to come here.
Not only am I getting to see a side of Liam that I have never seen before but his parents are so warm and welcoming that I feel like I’m a part of their family.
His mom, Lynnette, is one of the sweetest women that I have ever met and Liam’s dad Lawrence is just an older version of his son.
Also, the fact that they all have L names is the most adorable thing ever.
Both Liam’s parents have welcomed me with open arms and haven’t judged me one bit about being pregnant with their son’s child while not being together.
And Lynnette’s food is so delicious. I’m tempted to pack up some of it to freeze and keep at home.
I’ve only been here not even a full day and I’m already planning on coming back.
It’s currently a little bit after midnight and three out of the four people in the house are off to sleep. The fourth person, me, is laying wide awake suddenly craving some of Lynnette’s boysenberry pie.
I’ve been staring at the ceiling of Liam’s childhood bedroom debating if I should get up, but my craving is becoming too much for me to avoid.
“One slice would not hurt.” I tell myself as I throw the covers off my body.
Quietly, I open the bedroom door and start to tiptoe over to the kitchen, making sure that I don’t wake Liam who is sleeping in the living room.
When I reach the kitchen, though, I see that my efforts aren't necessary. The man that is supposed to be sleeping is sitting at the table eating a piece of pie.
“Is that the last piece?” I ask a little too loudly, making him jump in his chair. “Sorry.” I say through a laugh.
He shakes his head at me, but there’s a smile forming on his face. “I thought you were sleeping,” he says, taking another bite of his pie, not answering my question.
“I got a strong craving for some pie, so I thought that I would come get a slice before it was gone.”
“Have you gotten a lot of those?” he asks, not looking up at me. The man is deflecting.
“Not yet. I think this is one of the first ones. Now answer my question.” I say, narrowing my eyes at the man.
If I ever wanted to have daggers shoot out my eyes, this would be the moment.
“What question?” Another deflection.
“Is that the last piece of pie?” I ask, saying all the words as slowly as possible.
Eventually he lets out a sigh and gives me a nervous smile.
I have my answer.
“I hate you.”
“How was I supposed to know that you wanted a piece?” he says, defensively. That smile of his growing.
He does have a point, but still.
“You could have come to your room and asked.” I point out.
“I thought you were asleep.” He argues and the bastard has the audacity to take another bite.
“You can at least let me have the last few bits.” I walk over to the table and take a seat across from him, reaching for his plate.
“And why would I do that?” He raises a perfect eyebrow and pulls the plate back to him.
“Because if you don’t, then I’m going to tell your mom that you took the last piece of pie from her grandchild. See who’s side she takes.”
Now it’s Liam that is narrowing his eyes at me. “You play dirty, Vega. You really do, but I like it and that’s the only reason I’m going to give in.”
The boysenberry goodness slides in front of me and I don’t even have to take a bite of the berry filled crust for my mouth to water.
A moan escapes my mouth the second that the piece of deliciousness meets my tongue.
“Oh my god, this is so good.” I say, my eyes literally closing with how good this is.
“Is the baby now satisfied with their mom stealing their daddy’s pie?” Liam asks, the grin on his face causing butterflies to flutter in me.
Like when we first met.
“Very satisfied. If the baby was here and was able to talk they would thank you.” I say right before taking another bite.
I wonder how Liam would feel if his mom would come live with us just so that I have this pie whenever I want.
“What are you doing up?” I ask, scraping up the delicious goo off the plate.
“I couldn’t get comfortable,” he says, giving me a shrug.
“Is the couch hard?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s just that the couch isn’t made for someone over six feet to sleep on.”
Instantly, I feel bad.
If I wasn’t here, he would be sleeping in his own bed and not suffering on the couch.
No doubt he needs a good night's sleep since he had a game the night before where he was slammed against the boards more than once. I didn’t go to the game, but I did watch it on tv.
Those hits were not pretty, even if the Knights won in the end.
“Why don’t you sleep in your bed? I can take the couch. You don’t have to be uncomfortable.”
I don’t even finish what I’m saying before Liam is already shaking his head.
“It’s fine. It’s only for two nights. I can manage.”
“You have a game in two days. You won’t be able to play if you have a kink in your neck. I’m smaller, so I'll take the couch.” I say to him, finishing up the last of the pie.
“It’s fine, Chlo. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch. You need a bed way more than I do.”
That’s the second time he has called me Chlo. Not that I’m counting or anything, but I’m so used to him calling me by my full name. Hearing him call me Chlo is odd, and in a good way.
I like it way more than I should.
“If you say so, but if you want the bed. Just tell me. I’m happy to take the couch.”
“I will keep that in mind,” he says, throwing another smile in my direction. This time a lazy one.
Damn.
What are his smiles affecting me so much tonight? I don’t know, whatever it is, I have to squash it. I can’t be falling for my baby daddy right now.
It has to be all the new hormones.
I shift the subject.
“Your parents are amazing,” I tell him, giving him my own smile.
“They are,” he agrees, picking up the empty plates and getting up to wash it.
“Were they supportive when you told him you were going to be a professional hockey player. ?” I ask.
There are a lot of pictures of Liam from when he was a kid all over the house and his room is like a shrine to his high school and college career. I did notice that they don’t have a whole lot of pictures of his professional career and I can’t help but wonder why.
“At first they weren’t,” he says, coming back to the table. “I think a part of them always thought that I would give up hockey after college. They thought that me going professional was a fever dream and that I was going to get my degree and after graduation and go work with my dad.”
“When did they realize that it wasn’t a fever dream?”
“When I played in my first NHL game.”
“They still had their doubts before then?” I ask. Both Lynette and Lawrence seem like the type of people that would support the child no matter what. I can help but wonder why they would reservations about Liam going the professional route.
Liam gives me a nod. “About a week or two before I officially signed with the Knights. My mom asked me if I really wanted to continue to play. She told me that she was worried that I would get hurt and everything I worked so hard for would be for nothing.”
Wow. “What did you tell her?”
“That the Knights didn’t draft me at nineteen because they wanted to pity me.
They drafted me because they saw something in me.
That would make the team all that better.
I told her I didn’t want to give it up. That I love the sport but if she wanted me to quit then I would quit but that I wasn’t going to be happy about it, but I would do it for her. ”
I can picture Liam and Lynette sitting at this very table having that conversation. I can’t imagine the type of man that Liam would be if he had quit and hadn’t become the star that he is today.
“I’m guessing that they eventually came around to the idea.” I say, because no way did the woman I met earlier tell her son to quit the very sport that made him, him.
“Eventually. There were times during my first year where I could see the battle in their eyes whenever they saw me playing. The fear of the possibility that I would get hurt was there all the time but eventually they came around to the idea and now they love it. They brag about me all the time.”
“Because they are proud.”
“Yeah.” Liam says, shaking his head looking very much lost in thought.
“Well I’m glad that you didn’t quit.” I say, reaching out and placing a hand over his.
“Yeah, I am too.” Liam places a hand over mine and gives it a gentle squeeze and we for the next minute or so that’s how we stay.
Us sitting like this should feel way too intimate but it doesn’t. I could sit like this with him for a long time and that right there should be why I pull my hand away but I don’t.
“What about you? Were your parents always supportive of you becoming a dancer?” Liam asks, breaking the silence between us and shifting the conversations to me.
But he never lets go of my hand.
“Definitely not at first. They wanted me to do something different with my life. But they continued to support me through every single audition. I think they had hoped that I would find something that I love just as much as dancing, but nothing ever came. Enjoyed my undergrad and vision performance and when I decided to pursue professional dancing, I think that’s finally when it clicked for them that this was what I wanted to do and was serious about it. ”
I remember my mom calling me one day after I told her I was auditioning for my current dance company. She had asked me like five times if I was sure I wanted to do it. She told me that she didn’t want it to be a small fish in a big type of situation.
When I called her and told her that o got a spot, she cheered and cried with how happy she was.
Sometimes it’s hard for parents to accept what their kids want to do in their live and when they see everything work out that’s when they finally accept it.
From the looks of things both me and Liam went through the same thing.
“Does your family come and watch you perform?” He asks, his thumb sliding against the back of my arm. It feels too nice to pull away.
I give him a nod. “Usually during my winter performance.”
It sucks that it’s not happening this year.
Liam’s face contours a little at my statement. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I say as I apply pressure on his hand. “They were going to come since I don’t want to fly, but I just told them to save the money for when the baby comes since it’s not that far away.”
“Is that what you want?” Liam asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know if they can afford both trips. They should be here for what’s most important. The holidays can wait.”
I would love to have my family come to visit me for a few days but travel, even travel within the United States, is getting more expensive with every passing day. I can’t with good conscious let them spend a whole lot of money to come to Chicago two times.
“I can take care of it,” Liam tells me giving me a small smile.
“As much as I appreciate you offering, it’s really okay. I’ll just see them in the summer.”
He gives me a look that tells me that he knows that I’m full of shit but he doesn’t say anything else.
“If you change your mind, let me know. They could come for New Years and stay at the apartment, it’s not like we don’t have the room. I can even get you tickets for the game on New Year’s Eve and make a day out of it.”
It’s so damn tempting to take him on his offer, but I can’t. My pride is too strong to let him take care of something like that.
“You’ve already done so much for me, I can’t let you do this,” I say, patting his hand and finally pulling away from himself the second that I’m no longer touching him, I miss it. “It’s okay. Really.”
Again with a look that tells me that he knows I’m full of shit but he drops it. “Okay, but if you change your mind, tell me and I will make things happen.”
I get up from my seat and walk over to his chair and wrap my arms around his shoulder before placing a kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you, Liam.”
“Anything for you.” He says leaning into my touch.
I have to get it through my head that he is only saying that because I’m the mother of his child and I’m currently an incubator.
I detangle myself from him and start heading back to his bedroom.
“Goodnight, Liam.”
“Goodnight, Chlo.”
A part of me wants to ask him to come to bed with me, to forget about the couch and come sleep on the bed with me.
The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I’m too much of a chicken to ask it.
So I just give him a closed lip smile and head down the hall.
The whole night, instead of sleeping soundly, I dream about Liam sleeping right next to me and how it would be like if I caved into my feelings.
It would be good, but I can’t seem to do it in real life.