Chapter 20 – My Path Towards Evil
Rosalie
The pasta machines can’t be doused in soap or water.
They just need a good wipe down, so cleanup is a breeze.
Cutting ties with Trey is a little more complicated.
He goes in for a goodbye hug while asking what night would be good for fondue.
No wonder he kills it in sales. I can’t form the words to turn him down.
I’m not walking into a second date on my own, however, so I tell him to check with Kambryn and Gavin. They can double with us.
And why not? I like having plans, and if nothing else, maybe it will help Liam feel more comfortable around me. I miss how easy things felt when he thought I was dating Brennan.
I was not kidding when I said I didn’t want to head home early.
There’s a good chance Kambryn will be waiting to corner me for an interrogation.
Her boyfriend is working tonight, so she doesn’t have plans.
She and Aubrey will be all ears for a recap.
Plus, Wyatt is reaching that age where he realizes I’m a paid friend, so this would be a good opportunity to show him I’d hang out with him either way.
I’m not actually going to make Liam buy my ice cream. I may not get any at all. I’m so full. Trey might have overindulged in wine; I overindulged in pasta and marinara sauce.
I can’t help smiling when my phone dings with a text from Liam before I even reach my car. He’s sent me the address to a place called Ice Cream Palace only a few blocks away.
Setting the apron from tonight in the passenger seat, I turn on music that is very much not Frank Sinatra. My ears need a reset. I sing along to Freya Skye the whole way to the ice cream shop. The place is hard to miss with its big red sign in the shape of a royal crown.
The parking lot is almost completely full, and the inside is packed with teenagers and families with little kids in karate uniforms. Apparently Liam wasn’t the only parent with this idea.
Liam and Wyatt are waiting for me by the door, and Wyatt pulls me into one side of a tiny red booth, leaving only a little bit of room for Liam on the end.
Across from us is a girl who looks to be about eighteen.
She barely registers our existence before staring down at her phone again.
Next to her is a boy who must be from Wyatt’s karate class.
I glance up at Liam, who’s still standing next to the booth. “Did you already order?” I ask.
He nods. “I saw everyone coming in the door after us and decided to order for all of us. Is a scoop of mint chip in a chocolate waffle cone okay? Wyatt says that’s your favorite.”
More than okay. Be still my heart. I will make room, in my stomach and in this booth. I nod that he did good and pat the spot next to me so he knows it’s fine to squish in. Liam tries for a half-in, half-out perch, but immediately gets nailed in the knee by a kid running by.
He groans in pain.
“You okay?” I ask. “Just squeeze in here. I don’t have cooties.”
“Kay.” He shuffles over until we’re shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh, and the silence is killing me.
The place is louder than a hallway full of kids let loose for recess, but our silence is louder.
Everywhere we touch feels perfect, but also wrong.
Liam has spent years perfecting the art of keeping his distance from me.
I’m thinking about the contents of our letters to each other this week and how he reacted when I squeezed past him at dinner. He didn’t recoil. He froze. Is that the same as recoiling? I don’t think it is.
Not knowing what else to do, I pull out my wallet and remove a ten-dollar bill to pay him for the ice cream.
Liam gives me a look. “Someone told me to buy them dessert in exchange for details about their date.”
“I was kidding. My details are sparse but free.”
“I’m still not taking your cash.”
“Fine.” I put back the ten and pull out a small stack of trading cards instead, setting them down between Wyatt and his friend on the red Formica tabletop.
I can tell they’re getting antsy for their ice cream to arrive.
This place is fancy enough that they don’t hand you your orders over the counter.
Employees wearing paper hats bring it to your table on trays with cone holders.
“Are these cards any good?” I ask the boys. “I found them on a shelf in my apartment laundromat, and when no one claimed them after a few weeks, I put them in my wallet to ask you about.”
They go to work shuffling through the cards and analyzing their value, which is minimal, but it keeps them busy.
“Thank you,” Liam murmurs. “I don’t know how you do that.”
“Hoard things for the perfect moment?”
“Know exactly what people need.”
“It’s why you hired me.”
“I hired you because I sensed your goodness. I wasn’t wrong.”
I’m used to Liam expressing his appreciation. I’ve just never experienced it while sitting this close to him. We’re both watching the boys, but all my focus is fine-tuned to him. “I stayed because I sensed yours.”
He doesn’t say anything, and when I sneak a glance at his face, he’s got that concentrated frown going on.
He’s probably thinking about all the things that disqualify him from being truly good.
I’m not sure if he’s always been like this or if Esther made him question everything about himself, but he’s someone who worries a lot about doing the right thing.
I’m in no position to judge goodness. A better person would move closer to the kid instead of enjoying the warmth of Liam’s side pressed against theirs, but I don’t move, not even when our ice cream comes and we’re all elbows.
I pick up a plastic spoon and take a tiny swipe of hot fudge from Liam’s sundae.
Might as well seal my path towards evil.
The two boys receive their cups of bubble gum ice cream, which I am not the least bit tempted to steal, and the girl who drove her brother to practice looks up from her phone long enough to thank the staff member and take her chocolate shake with whipped cream.
Then she’s engrossed in whatever’s on her phone once again.
Liam digs into his hot fudge sundae and savors his first bite. “Define sparse.”
It takes me a second to compute, and then I smile. “Trey was nice, and we’re going out again, hopefully on a double date with my sister and her boyfriend.”
“Really?” He immediately subdues his shock and puts on his supportive face. “I’m glad it went well.”
“You are not glad. You’re questioning my judgement.”
“He seemed a little… drunk.”
“But a nice drunk. And in his defense, the older ladies behind us were pretty insistent on refilling his wine glass.”
“Which he emptied. Into his mouth. How old is he?”
“I’m not sure, but they carded us at the door.” Our tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent of tension building, and I don’t know if it’s from my irritation or his, or just the fear of where this conversation is going. “So, is this our new normal?”
“Is what our new normal?” he asks.
“Giving each other the third degree? You don’t usually ask me about my Saturday nights.”
“You don’t usually crash mine.”
Instinctively, I move to get up, and Liam’s hand comes to rest just above my knee. “Please stay.”
I’m trapped in this booth, sandwiched between my two favorite Campbell men. I couldn’t go anywhere if I tried, but I don’t hate Liam’s hand on my leg. And I hate that I don’t hate it.
The warmth of his palm seeps into my jeans, and I’m sorry when he removes it and clears his throat. “Can we start over?”
I nod.
“Okay. I’ll go first. I’m glad you’re here with us, and I’m sorry I gave you grief about your date.”
“I’m sorry I promised details and then got defensive about them.”
This isn’t starting over. It’s an apology exchange.
But I’d rather clear the air than pretend like it didn’t happen.
Kind ignoring is something you do with people you don’t care for, and I very much like Liam.
I just wish his digs about my date were more about jealousy and less about being protective of me.