Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
SOPHIE
There’s half an hour until Liam’s due to arrive at my apartment, and there’s something I need to do that I’ve been putting off all afternoon.
So I pull up my contacts and scroll down to the S section.
I’m surprised at just how many Salingers I have in there now, as I click the one that I need to speak to.
Liam’s mom answers within two rings.
“Sophie, how lovely to hear from you.” That’s the thing about Linda Salinger.
She always makes you feel like you’re the person she’s been dying to talk to all day.
Ava always says Myles gets his charisma from his dad, but as far as I’m concerned his mom is pretty charming, too. “How are you?” she asks.
“I’m good, and you?”
“Oh you know, busy.” She laughs. “But then what woman isn’t busy? And it’s all self-imposed. Are you still able to come to the party next Saturday?”
“Of course. I’m looking forward to it,” I tell her. “Thank you again for the invitation.”
“Are you driving over with Ava and Myles?” she asks. And again it feels like she genuinely wants to know. Maybe I have a mom fixation.
“No, I think they’re planning to stay. I’ll drive over on Saturday afternoon then home that evening.” I wrinkle my nose. It’s a hell of a drive from here. Maybe I should look at booking a hotel room and stay the night.
“It’s such a long drive. I’ll be worried about you on those country roads late at night.”
“Honestly, I’ll be fine. I’m used to driving at night.
I’ll make sure I’m safe.” And then I swallow because there’s some news I need to share.
“Also, um, there might be some rain next Saturday. We’re monitoring a storm system, and it’s too early to say if it’ll hit or not, but I wanted you to be aware.
” I don’t try to explain that it’s a mesoscale storm that we noticed forming in the radars today.
Most people get bored when I try to get technical.
But if we’re right it’s a series of thunderstorms that could last up to six hours if it hits badly.
I’m hoping we’re wrong though.
“Oh dear.” Her voice lowers. “Do you know how much rain?”
“Not yet. It’s looking like a summer thunderstorm,” I try to reassure her. “One of those that passes on after a few hours. I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I can’t give you an accurate time estimate yet, but we’ll be keeping a close eye on it over the next week.”
“Oh sweetie, don’t sound so sad,” Linda says. “The weather isn’t your fault. And it’s better to be forewarned, right? I’ll make sure that we have a contingency to move inside if the weather doesn’t hold.”
“Thank you for being so understanding.”
“Thank you for giving me the heads up,” she says. “And if there’s a possibility of rain, then that settles it. You’ll have to stay with us at the house overnight. I’m not having you drive home in a storm.”
“It might not even happen,” I tell her. “And if it does there’s every likelihood it will pass over by evening. It shouldn’t cause any problems with my drive home.”
“Nonsense, I won’t hear of it. Even if there’s a possibility of bad weather you shouldn’t drive alone at night. Please stay, I insist.”
I need to talk to Liam about this. I don’t want him thinking… I’ve no idea what I don’t want him thinking. But it feels like I’m getting cozy with his family when he might not like that. “Let me just check my plans,” I tell her.
“Of course. But there’s a room for you if you need one.”
“Thank you.”
It’s funny because Linda doesn’t actually live at Misty Lakes anymore.
It belongs to her ex-husband, Rupert, and he lives there with his third wife, Julia, and their baby.
And yet there’s this whole family vibe going on.
Linda, and Rupert’s other ex wife, Deandra, are best friends and they’re close with Julia, too.
Whenever there’s a family party they’re always together. And if I’m being honest, I’m a little bit envious of their big family. Being an only child and having lost my mom, it’s so nice to watch them all come together and have fun.
We end the conversation and I put my phone down, walking into the kitchen to check on dinner. I agonized over what to make. I’m not as good of a cook as Liam but I’m also not terrible like Ava. I can follow a recipe but I can’t add any flair.
And yet there’s still a part of me that’s excited to cook for him. I don’t often get to do this for anybody other than my dad. So I check on the chicken and potatoes and quickly set the table in my little kitchen, adding two wine glasses because I think I might need some Dutch courage.
It’s two minutes before eight when the intercom buzzes. I walk to the hall and check my appearance in the mirror – passable – then press the intercom button.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
My muscles do a weird clench. I hit the door release. “Come on up.”
It takes less than a minute for him to take the elevator up to the third floor and knock on my door.
When I pull open the door, he looks even better than I remember. He’s wearing a gray suit and a white shirt, no tie, and his hair is mussed like he’s been raking his fingers through it. His eyes catch mine and he smiles.
And I know I’m done for.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi.” His smile widens. “Are you gonna let me in or would you prefer that I stay in the hallway?”
Oh God, what a way to start. I step aside and invite him in, and the smell of his cologne fills my senses.
“How was your flight?” I ask him.
“It was passable. I managed to get some work done.” He watches as I close the door before he cups my face with his warm palm. “You look beautiful.” He leans down to give me the briefest of kisses. Little more than a feather of his lips against mine.
And yet it sets me on fire.
“You look pretty good, too,” I tell him, tipping my head so he follows me to the kitchen. “No bag?”
“Hmm?”
“Didn’t you pack a suitcase for tonight?” I grab the wine from the refrigerator. I splurged on this one, knowing that Liam is used to the best.
“I brought a carry on. It’s in the car.”
Oh. So he’s not staying. I try to hide my dismay. “I guess you won’t want any wine then.”
He curls his fingers around my chin and tips my head until I’m looking at him. His brows knit. “Are you upset that I’m not staying?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I just… I don’t know. Assumed you would.”
He nods. “And I didn’t want to assume. My bag is in my car, Sophie. If I need it I’ll get it, okay?”
My chest feels full. Like I’ve breathed in way too much air and have no way of exhaling it. “I want you to get it,” I tell him. He’s still holding my chin, his thumb caressing my jawline.
“Thank you,” he says.
“What for?”
“For saying what you want. For being honest. I needed that tonight.” The oven beeps and I remember the chicken.
“I need to…” I gesture at the oven.
“Of course. Do I have time to get my bag now or shall I wait until after dinner?”
“Get it now,” I tell him, because I need it settled. He gives me the sweetest of smiles before he heads out to get it.
And a few minutes later we’re sitting at my kitchen table, his case standing sentry in the hallway like a soldier ready for action. I cut my chicken, breathing a sigh of relief when I see it’s cooked through, because when he cooked for me it was perfect.
“I spoke to your mom earlier,” I tell him when I’ve swallowed a mouthful.
“I know.”
“How?” I ask. “It was like twenty minutes ago.”
“I’m on a group chat with her and my brothers. She’s throwing Eli out of his cabin and making him share with Holden for the night of the party so you’ll have somewhere to stay.”
My eyes widen. “Oh no.”
“It’s fine. Eli’s used to sleeping wherever he’s told. He travels a lot.”
“I guess he does.” I’ve spoken to Eli a few times. He seems very chill. “But I can’t let him lose his cabin.”
“I could tell them you’ll stay in mine,” he says, sliding a potato into his mouth.
“Nooo.”
He tips his head to the side. “Why not?”
“Because then they’ll know about us.”
His lips curl. “I like it when you say us.”
“You know what I mean,” I tell him, trying not to smile. He makes it impossible to frown when he’s around.
He puts his fork down on his plate and lifts his head. “Why wouldn’t you want them to know about us?”
“Because I don’t know what us is,” I tell him. “And maybe it’s too early for there to be an us at all.”
His eyes don’t leave mine. “There is an us. I think the past few weeks have proven that.”
“But what if you decide you only want one night after all?” I ask him. “What if we’re not sexually compatible?” My cheeks are burning. I’m overthinking but that’s just my thing.
“I have no fucking doubt we’re sexually compatible, Sophie.” His stare is dark and I swallow hard, remembering how easily he can arouse me. “What are you really afraid of?” he asks.
“You,” I say simply. “I’m afraid of falling for you and getting hurt.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He nods approvingly. And damn if I don’t feel that little thrill again. I have no idea why I want his approval so much. “Okay then, there’s only one option.”
“What?” I ask, bemused.
“We’ll have to get married.”
I start to laugh, only trailing off when I realize he isn’t laughing, too. Wait, is he serious? He can’t be. He’s the playboy, the lothario, the one-night-only man.
“You can’t go around proposing just because you need to prove something,” I tell him. I shift in my chair. “That’s just…” I trail off because I don’t even have the words for it. “You just can’t.”
He doesn’t look embarrassed. Or regretful. Just amused. “Isn’t that what marriage is? Proving to the world that you’re together? If people were just proving it to themselves they wouldn’t have the lavish ceremony or the dinner and party. It’s all about showing the world that you’re taken.”
“Liam, we haven’t even slept together. You can’t start talking about commitment.”
“Technically, we slept together that first night. We woke up in the same bed, remember? And we did it again recently.”
“You know what I mean,” I say pointedly.
“Okay, we’ll stop talking about marriage.
For now. But I have no idea how to get you to trust me.
I’ve never done this before.” He looks pensive.
“I wish I could change my past. I wish I could go back in time and not be that guy you described. Hell, I wish I could go back in time and treat you the way you deserved from the beginning. Even then I think I knew you were the one. I just fought against it because I was scared.”
He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. And I’m so aware of the irony of this situation. I’m the one who wants commitment. Who doesn’t want to be another notch on somebody else’s bedpost.
And now that he’s offering it, I’m petrified.
“Tell me who hurt you,” he says softly.
“What?” I blink at the sudden change in direction.
“What makes you so afraid of relationships?”
“I’m not afraid of them,” I tell him. “You’re the one who avoids relationships.”
“And yet you’re the one putting obstacles in our way.
And I don’t think it’s because you don’t want me.
The chemistry between us is unbelievable.
And I don’t think it’s because you think I’m lying either.
It’s because of you. Something in here.” He touches his chest over his heart.
“And I want to know because we can’t let it stop us. ”
“This is not how I saw tonight going,” I admit to him.
He tips his head to the side. “What did you think we’d be doing?”
“Having hot sex as soon as you walked in the door.”
His jaw twitches. “That was on my mind, too.”
Our gazes clash. I feel heat suffusing my skin.
“But I’m not here just for sex, Sophie. I’m here because I like you. I enjoy spending time with you.”
“I know,” I tell him. “And I want that, too. I just don’t know how to stop this feeling inside of me.” I touch my own chest. It’s so tight.
“How about we take it slow?” he says softly. “Let’s clear the table, put on some music, and we can take a look at the work you talked about.
The submission. I can’t believe I forgot about that. “You remembered.” Thank goodness somebody did.
“Of course I did. It’s important to you.”
I feel another rock in the wall between us crumbling. The wall I built because I wanted to protect myself. There are a few gaps now. Created by his kind words. His flowers, his lunches, his reactions to Derek still being married while sleeping with Meredith.
He’s so right. I’m the one who’s fighting this when I thought it would always be him. I want to believe him. I need to.
It’s just going to take time.
“I’ll make us coffee,” I suggest. “Then we can work here at the table if that’s okay?”
“That’s more than okay,” he says. “And I’ll make the coffee. It’s the least I can do to thank you for dinner.”