11. Liam
CHAPTER 11
LIAM
A s I knock on the door, I have to question what the hell it is I think I’m doing.
Here I am, bringing Emma breakfast in bed when I should be getting ready to go. The training course ended yesterday, and everyone else is getting on a flight and going home. That’s what I should be doing too. That’s what Emma will be doing, any moment now.
And yet, over the last few days as I’ve gotten to know her, I’ve realized that I want to spend more time with her.
I want to show her that I’m not just some jerk. Not the one she thought I was. I want to prove to her that I care, that I can be the kind of man she might want me to be. If she were to want a man like me, that is.
Not only that, but it’s nice to have some genuine intellectual conversation for a change. So much of the time, I’m only focused on medical terminology with colleagues and small talk to make my patients comfortable. I crave the kind of conversation that gives me pause, that challenges me. It’s good to be faced with another mind as sharp as my own.
With Emma, it feels different to conversing with anyone else. It feels like she’s the same as me. Work comes first. Hard work means more than anything else.
Nobody else gets it like she does.
When she opens the door, her mouth drops open in surprise. “Liam, what are you doing here?”
“Breakfast,” I say simply.
“Why?”
I grin. “Why not?”
She presses her lips into a thin line, giving me the kind of glare that says, Don’t be an idiot. “ This is really sweet and everything,” she says, “but aren’t you supposed to be leaving?”
I shrug. “You’re my patient. I wanted to make sure everything was okay before I discharged you.”
“Then I suppose you should come in.”
She steps aside, and I enter her hotel room. I’m immediately hit with the scent that’s come to be so familiar to me. The one of flowers and sunlight that means her. The whole room smells of her lavender perfume, her vanilla soap, the shampoo she must have washed her hair with last night.
“You didn’t need to do this, you know,” she says, grinning.
“I know. But I did anyway.”
She takes the tray away from me and places it on the table. I notice that her bags aren’t packed at all. Her clothes are still hanging in the wardrobe, her pajamas on the bed.
“Are you not going?” I ask, baffled.
“No,” she says, glancing at me before grabbing a slice of bacon from the plate. “I’m staying here for a few more days just to get a little relaxation in.”
“Relaxation,” I say. “What’s that?”
She chuckles. “Oh, I know, it’s totally alien to me too. I didn’t really want to stay if I’m honest, but my friend — my best friend — told me that I should at least take a few days to hang out here and get away from the stress for a while. Arguments with her aren’t something that you win, so here I am.”
“Sounds like she’s a good friend,” I say distantly, trying to remember the last time I spoke to anyone I would consider a best friend.
“She is. She’s the best.”
“Well, you know what? I’m doing the same,” I say before any doubts can cross my mind.
“You are?” She wheels around at that, eyes wide.
I don’t know why I said that. I’m not a person who does relaxing. I have loads of vacation hours accumulated, but I never use them.
“I am,” I say lamely. “I… I wanted to.”
How am I going to square this away with work? I’ll have to tell them soon because I’ll have to make sure someone is covering my shifts. I’ll need to work out my PTO, when I’ll be back. They’ll either be furious or delighted, and it’s hard to tell which.
They’ve wanted me to take a day off for years.
“Let’s spend some more time together,” I say, my mouth opening before I can think again.
Emma blinks at me again, sinking down onto the seat by the table to tuck into her breakfast. At least, that’s what I expect her to do, but instead she just stares.
“Are you sure you haven’t been replaced by a robot?”
“I haven’t. Bruno was a robot, not me.”
That makes her laugh, and her hair falls into her face, draping over her shoulder like a scarf. I almost step forward, an impulse driving me to tuck it behind her ear for her. But I don’t.
That would be too intimate, too knowing. We’re barely even friends, let alone anything else.
“Let’s go to lunch today,” I say. “My treat. Then we can discuss what we’ll do the rest of the week.”
“If I say yes, will you leave me alone to eat this enormous breakfast you’ve brought me?”
I hum as if I’m contemplating, but the truth is that she could have just asked. I’m not so annoying that I don’t understand people’s boundaries. “Okay. But you’d better enjoy it.”
“If the rest of it is as good as this bacon,” she says, crunching a slice between her teeth to prove a point, “then I’m certain I will.”
“Great. Meet me at the bar at noon?”
“I’ll be there.” She smiles, then turns to her breakfast, giving it her full attention.
I almost want to linger, to keep being in her space just so I can be near her but, boundaries.
So I say goodbye and slip out of the room. I walk the three paces to my own room, and the whole time I feel like I’m floating on air. Emma wants to hang out with me!
If she had said no, I probably would have gone home out of shame.
Now I have to call work. This is going to be fun.