20. Liam
CHAPTER 20
LIAM
L iam reopened the book about a caterpillar in search of food for what felt like the hundredth time. Grace was snuggled up beneath his arm, giggling and wiggling as Liam read her the story.
“Again, again!” she shouted whenever he reached the end.
A full day of taking care of Grace alone, while very nice, gave Liam a newfound respect for what Amelia had done during the last month. Grace was a delight, but she was also easily distracted and in need of constant entertainment.
All the while, as he played with his daughter and made her lunch, part of Liam’s thoughts were with Amelia. He felt terrible that he was sick — and even worse for how they’d left things. How he’d left things.
Last week, when they’d fought, Liam knew he’d gone too far. His work was important, and Amelia needed to recognize that, but he hadn’t needed to be quite so forceful. Since then, he had avoided Amelia as best as he could. He knew that his daughter needed Amelia, and he knew that the best thing he could do for Amelia was to give her space. There was no way she wanted him around — and Liam didn’t want to give her any false impressions.
Now that she wasn’t feeling well, though, he had no choice but to be home with her. Plus, if they were going to be sharing space, they might as well try to be friends.
Friends. The word felt wrong, even in Liam’s own mind. When he thought of Amelia, he couldn’t imagine her as just a friend. She was so much more than that, even though friendship was all he could offer her. The week they’d spent together had made it clear that if Liam opened his heart, he’d be giving up everything else — his work, his legacy, the financial security he’d spent years creating. He couldn’t do that. And being with Amelia only halfway wouldn’t be fair to her.
As if his thoughts had summoned her, Amelia came into the living room. She was wearing pajamas and a messy bun, and her face was still pale. Liam felt a stab of worry. He wasn’t sure how she’d gotten sick.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
She shrugged and sank onto the sofa across from Liam and Grace. “I’m okay. Thank you.”
There was a long pause. Liam wanted to cross the room and take Amelia into his arms. He wanted to give her tea and tuck her under a warm blanket and stroke her forehead to see if she had a fever. He cared about her with an intensity that he’d never experienced before — not even during the most important parts of his work.
Liam shut that down. Amelia wasn’t his to care for. They had a business relationship, and they were friends, but that was all.
“Are you hungry?” Liam asked. Amelia turned slightly green.
“I ate some of the crackers you left. Thank you. But I think I won’t have anything else. I’ll go back to bed soon; I just wanted to check on you and Grace.”
“We’re doing fine.” Liam tried not to bristle at Amelia’s comment. She probably wasn’t trying to imply that he couldn’t take care of his daughter for one day. Although perhaps she was — that was more or less what she’d said a couple of weeks ago.
Another wave of guilt washed over Liam. Perhaps that wasn’t what Amelia had been saying. Yet every word she’d spoken during their fight had felt like a jagged barb through Liam’s life and values.
“Okay. I’ll go back to bed.” Amelia got up, brushed imaginary dust off her pajama pants, and hurried out of the room.
“Meel,” Grace said as Amelia left. Her tone was sad.
“It’s okay,” Liam said. “She’ll be back soon.”
There was that guilt again. If Grace had been this sad — or even sadder — about Liam being gone, he would have been upset with himself for leaving too. The thought of Amelia comforting his tearful daughter because he’d left for work instead of going to the zoo was painful.
It didn’t change anything, though.
The best way forward, the only way forward, was for him to earn enough to support Grace financially without getting more involved on a personal level with either his daughter or his fake wife. Keeping his distance was easier said than done, but it was necessary.
As evening rolled around, Liam realized that his chef wasn’t coming today and that Amelia definitely wouldn’t be up for cooking. He could handle breakfast, but dinner was a bit more complicated.
Liam went into the kitchen, Grace following him like a happy puppy (the opposite of thirty minutes earlier when she’d cried bitterly because Liam wouldn’t let her eat toilet paper from the roll).
“What should we make?” he asked.
“Pizza!” Grace did a happy wiggle. “Meel make pizza.”
“I’m sure she does. But we might have to settle for something a little simpler. Do you like spaghetti?”
“Pasghetti,” Grace said happily. “Meel make pasghetti.”
Liam did his best not to sigh. It made sense that Grace wanted to talk about Amelia a lot — she loved her, after all. Yet each time the child brought Amelia up, it only reminded him of how difficult it was to keep his distance.
“Meel does make spaghetti,” he agreed. “But today, Daddy’s making the spaghetti.”
“Daddy make pasghetti?” Grace’s face furrowed into a confused frown, and Liam had to stifle a laugh. She had no confidence in his cooking abilities — which was fair, since Liam didn’t either.
Twenty minutes later, Amelia emerged from her bedroom.
“I smelled food,” she said as she stepped into the kitchen.
“Daddy make pasghetti,” Grace announced proudly.
“It looks great.” Amelia turned her radiant smile towards Liam, but her expression faded as she seemed to remember that they no longer had the kind of relationship in which they shared stolen glances.
“We’ll see,” Liam said. “Please, have a seat, if you feel up to trying to eat.”
Amelia went to the kitchen table where she helped Grace into her high chair before sitting down. Liam carried a bowl of spaghetti with red sauce (spaghetti from a box and sauce from a jar, of course) and set it in front of Amelia and Grace. Amelia, he knew, would probably have made a side dish or two — salad or garlic bread or something like that.
Amelia didn’t seem to mind that there weren’t any side dishes. She just smiled and held up her plate. “It looks great.”
Liam dished up food for Amelia, then for Grace, and finally for himself. They all took bites at the same time. Amelia was the first to react. She jumped to her feet, one hand clasped over her mouth, and ran to the bathroom. Grace spat out the mouthful she’d taken and made a betrayed face. For his part, Liam managed to chew and swallow his bite of spaghetti, though it wasn’t easy. The spaghetti was crunchy in places and so soft as to be soggy in others. The sauce was strangely sweet and somehow very watery.
“Ew,” Grace said. She stuck out her tongue.
“Sorry, princess.” Liam made an apologetic face. “I’ll order something.”
Yet his gaze was pulled to the hallway, where Amelia had disappeared with her hand over her mouth. She was clearly going to be sick. She’d had some kind of stomach bug anyway, but Liam’s terrible meal must have pushed things over the edge.
It was yet another piece of evidence that Liam wasn’t a family man. Even the simplest task, making an edible dinner, had proven impossible for him. He should stick to what he knew, which was business, and not get mixed up in Grace and Amelia’s lives any more than he had to.
“Pizza?” Grace asked hopefully as she shoved the plate of congealing spaghetti away.
“Of course, princess.” Liam cleared the table, threw away the spaghetti, and loaded the dishwater. Then he placed an order from his favorite local pizza place — quattro stagioni for himself, a cheese pizza for Grace, and a salad for Amelia, just in case she felt brave enough to try to eat again later.
Over dinner, take two, Liam played a children’s movie about bears that sang and danced for Grace, who ate her pizza while bobbing her head happily. Liam wasn’t so easily distracted. He kept hoping that Amelia might appear. Every shadow drew his gaze to the door. He wanted to apologize for the terrible spaghetti incident. He wanted to try to be friends.
Amelia never came back out of her room, though. Liam handled bedtime alone, then made a cup of mint tea and knocked on Amelia’s door. She answered, still pale, but managed a smile for Liam.
“I made you tea. Sorry about the spaghetti.”
“Thanks for the tea. And don’t worry about the spaghetti. Everyone has a cooking disaster story or two.”
Liam hesitated. “Do you want to watch a movie or something? It might help distract from your nausea.”
Amelia sucked in a breath, then let it out in a puff.
“I don’t think that would be wise,” she said finally. “But thank you for the invitation.”
“You’re right, of course.” Liam hesitated a moment longer, wanting to say something to break this terrible tension between them, but knowing there was nothing he could say. “Good night, Amelia.”
“Good night.” She closed the door gently, and Liam went to his own bed, alone, wishing that things were different. He still cared about Amelia, but he couldn’t be with her. It seemed that she understood that now, which was a good thing.
So why didn’t it feel like a good thing at all? Why did Liam want nothing more than to run down the hall and tell her he’d made a terrible mistake and that he loved her, stomach flu and all?