60. LIAM
60
LIAM
Present Summer
Once upon a time, at the beginning of this summer, I ran into a girl who I didn’t know how I would ever see again. In my mind, there wasn’t a doubt that we’d be back together by the end of the summer. Even an engagement—yes, I am that confident that nothing would stand between us—or friends with benefits would keep us from falling together. I dreamed of returning to London with her. A redo from our summer that tore us apart.
This time, we’d get it right. I’d tell her I love her, and she’d say it back.
Returning by myself had to happen. I knew it wouldn’t be for nothing. Emerson confirmed that when she called me the morning after I left.
“I need some time to sort this out by myself,” she told me after apologizing for overreacting and blaming me for the whole Natalie situation.
“Are you upset with me?”
“No.” I’m not cross at her needing space. I’m happy to be finally in her realm. “There’s no rush States. Today, tomorrow, or next year. I love you now, and I’ll love you then.”
She said, “Okay,” and then hung up. We’ve spoken. I wait until she calls, trying to respect the space she requested.
I know she’s been hurting. She’s been hurting for sixteen years and has chosen now to figure out how to stop. It wouldn’t be fair for me to think it could magically go away. I did that once, and it imploded things, pressurizing her to the point where she was fizzing out like a champagne bottle .
I meant it when I told her I loved her enough for both of us. I love her as she is now, but if taking this time to figure herself out finally is what she needs and gives us a fighting chance, then I’ll keep loving her from afar. I mean, I’m already quite good at it.
Even if she never figures it out and we age, my hair goes gray, and I forget about everything else in my life, I’d never forget her. I’d never stop loving her.
But I have a feeling I won’t need to wait that long.
I thought I would return to London for a week or two and then fly back to Chicago. Staying for a month did not cross my mind anywhere in my plan.
The day after I landed, I met with Edward Blyton, owner of Hotel Royal in London and several other locations across the continent. By the end of the week, a contract was with our legal team for review for every location.
During lunch with Edward, he informed me that his wife has stage four breast cancer and was given a year or two to live. They are in their late sixties but look and act like they are far younger. He wanted to sell a majority stake in his company. We worked out a deal that his locations will become a subsidiary of Hayes Hotels. We will retain majority ownership, but he will have a minor role.
I asked him why he wanted this.
“Time with her. I want to commit this version of myself to her and do everything I can to make her happy and feel loved. When people look back on my life, I don’t want them to think of my career or achievements. I want them to think of the way I loved her. I’d give up everything if it meant one more minute or year with her.”
I understood everything he wanted. That’s how I feel about Emerson.
“Why my company?”
“Do you remember when we met? We were both on vacation in the BVIs. You were walking into the lobby with a young woman. You stepped away to introduce yourself, but over your shoulder, I watched the way she watched you. She had this expression on her face—a face you only get when you are in the presence of your true love. I saw my wife and I in the two of you.”
“Emerson,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Yes, that must be her. I picked Hayes Hotels because I know you’d do the same if you were in my position.”
Leaving that lunch, I felt lucky. I already knew I didn’t care how long Emerson took to figure it out; I felt fortunate that I was the one she was figuring it out for.
It would have been easy to make Callum come back here to work on this, but Emerson wanted space. And Edward was right; I’d do the same. Working on this deal was specific and personal.
So I stayed.
We completed the deal and the quick takeover. Everything moved fast, but it was important, and I was proud to be able to do it. Every early morning and late night was worth it.
An hour or two passed from when I put myself horizontally on the couch. It was post-run, and I had nothing to do on this rainy Saturday but watch the Premier League when there was a knock on my door. I waited to answer the door, assuming it was the lunch that I ordered for myself. The match has only two minutes left of play, and Arsenal and Chelsea were tied. I left specific notes to leave it at the door, anyway.
Whoever it is at the door knocks again.
EMERSON
Emotions from the last time I stood outside his door flood my system.
Pushing those anxious emotions and memories aside, I remind myself that I’m here now. Mistakes in the past, this is our now, and with my whole heart, I believe he’ll see it that way, too. Like they always say, the third time’s the charm. Right ?
But I tell myself this is actually the first time because I’m finally ready—completely there, completely in it.
Taking a final breath, I lift my hand to the door before I chicken out. Quick, fleeting thoughts of self-doubt cross my mind.
What if he’s not here? You wait.
What if he doesn’t love you back? Stop joking around. Liam loves you.
What if he turns you down? Then we’ll pick ourselves up and move on, being proud of ourselves for finally going after what we want.
This is it, Emerson. Don’t be a coward.
Folding my hand into a fist, I knock on his door.
There’s no response.
I knock again.
I know he’s here. There is a tingle in my body, my heart rate picking up the way it does whenever he’s near. It intensifies as I hear footsteps amplifying. The sound of a lock being flipped echoes in the hallway.
This is it.
The door opens.
I lift my head, and our eyes lock.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” he replies. A massive smile slowly appears.
I stare at it, getting lost in how much I love his smile. How much I love him.
“States, what are you,” Liam can barely get out before I drop my bag and wrap my arms around his neck. Slipping my hands into his soft brown hair. I push my lips to his.
Liam kisses me back. My lips part as his tongue finds mine. Like they were only ever meant for each other, our kisses move as mindlessly as the act of breathing. His hands come to my lower back, and he guides us inside his flat. Removing one hand, he shuts the door behind us and pushes me against it. My bags are still in the hallway, neither of us giving an ounce of care. Liam returns his hand to me, cupping the right side of my face. The gentle caress on my face is warm, and I lean into it instinctively. We keep kissing, neither of us wanting to pull away except for desperate gasps of air that aren’t each other. But if I had it my way, he’s the only thing I’d breathe for the rest of my life. We’re like two stupid high schoolers who just discovered kissing and can’t get enough of it. Liam pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and bites down, causing me to moan softly into his mouth. He groans in response.
With the satisfaction of knowing that there will be plenty more of this to come, I break our kiss.
Staring into my eyes, Liam pushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I break our kiss, satisfied that there will be plenty more of this to come.
“States, what are you doing here?” he asks.
“I’m done pretending that I don’t love you.” There is no need for the fluff. “You’re everything to me. I wish I could tell you I knew it from the day you walked into my life, but the day I walked out of that door made me realize how much I care about you. I loved you then, and I love you now. I’m in love with you.”
“You are?”
“I am,” I say confidently.
We move to his living room. He sits down and pulls me onto his lap. I turn to straddle him. An intimate position we’ve been in countless times, but this time, I only want to see him. Really look at him while I finally admit to him how I feel.
“This. Us. Everything is on me. I’ve been in my head, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you by letting everything get in the way—the distance, my parent’s divorce, Natalie, my anxiety. Whenever I thought I loved you, I allowed these excuses to get the best of me. It took me a while to learn that I can love you despite them and because of them. In the end, whatever excuse, trigger, or anything else that comes our way doesn’t matter to me anymore as long as I get to choose you. And I do. I choose you. I’m not perfect. I’m still figuring it out, but my love for you is so loud that it quiets the insecurities.”
I lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his lips. Liam is quiet, allowing me to own the moment, own my feelings, and finally have the bravery to take what I want.
“I realize now that it’s been you and me all along,” I continue. “Wherever I’ve been. Whoever I’ve been with. Whoever I am. Memories of us are memorized in my mind. Time and time again, they’d replay the cruelest or sweetest moments. Each time, reminding me of everything we could be. My mind somehow always knew, using those memories as barriers to make sure I never moved on. There were days I was desperate to forget, to let you go and be free. But there were days that I wished I was brave enough to do whatever it would take to get back to you.”
“You’re brave enough now.” Liam brushes his knuckle against my cheek. I close my eyes, longing for his hand to stay there forever.
“Tell me it’s not too late. Please.” My please comes out broken. A crack that reveals the desperation behind it because I wouldn’t blame him if it were. “Please,” I beg again when he doesn’t answer.
Liam laughs. Laughing?
“You’re laughing? I’m serious right now.”
“States, if it were too late, then that kiss or how much I want to undress you right now would be wrong, aye?”
He’s still laughing, and it vibrates through my entire body. He brings his hands to either side of my face, holding my face mere inches away from his. We’re so close that I can feel his breath and smell the same cologne from that night in Paris.
“It’ll never be too late for us. There’s no place you or I could go or people we could become where we wouldn’t find our way back to each other. It’s always been us, and it will always be us,” Liam says with the purest sincerity I’ve ever experienced.
It’s not too late. Everything that happened is in the past. Scratch that. It’s not just in the past. It is our present. A chapter we finished that led us to the one we are writing now .
There seems to be nothing left to say but “I love you, Liam Hayes.”
“I love you too, Emerson Clarke.”
He reaches out for me and pulls me into his chest. His warm embrace and the smell of him feel like home. It is exactly where I’m supposed to be—with him and in love with him.
Natalie was right. We were meant to find our way back to each other.