Chapter Nineteen
To my annoyance, Liam follows me.
‘You can go home now,’ I call out, even though I can feel him right behind me, keeping pace.
‘No. We need to talk.’
‘We already talked. You explained yourself perfectly well.’
‘Obviously not, or you wouldn’t be pissed.’
Fine. We’re doing this.
I spin, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, and Liam nearly collides with me. He backs up a step, hands held up peacefully, hair disheveled by the wind.
‘Can you blame me?’ I demand, crossing my arms tightly over my torso. ‘I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to my best friend for the past six months. Then, it turns out you have a connection with her that you purposefully hid from me. Can you see how incredibly suspicious that is, Liam?’
He lowers his chin, leveling his gaze at me, like a man with nothing to hide.
‘You’re right. I didn’t mention that I recognized her name.
But you didn’t mention she was missing, either, and I’m not holding that against you.
Can we chalk it up to the fact that we’re just getting to know each other?
There’s a lot you don’t know about me. And vice versa.
That’s not a crime. It’s an opportunity. ’
‘Oh my God,’ I groan. ‘Do not go all motivational poster on me, Liam Porter!’
His eyes soften. ‘You know where I stand, Margot. I care about you. In fact, maybe this isn’t the right moment to say it, but I’d like to date you. Exclusively. You know … like boyfriend-girlfriend.’ He pauses. ‘What do you want, though?’
I can’t bear to meet the intensity of his gaze, so I let my eyes stray to the side.
We’re stopped in front of a defunct storefront with a big FOR RENT sign in the window. The windows are dark. This corner store seems like the perfect place for a coffee shop. And Liam seems like he could be the perfect person to find love with. If he’s telling the truth.
‘You’re deep in your thoughts,’ says Liam.
I finally turn back to him. ‘Just facing reality.’ Which is that I don’t know if this man is playing me or not.
‘You want the truth? I’m a twenty-six-year-old failure, Liam.
I failed to pick the right men … I failed to be brave and go after the career I wanted …
I failed Zoe as a friend, and now I’m afraid I’m going to fail with you. ’
‘Failed is a big word.’
‘It’s accurate,’ I snap back.
He nods slowly, like he’s absorbing my energy, taking it in.
‘It’s important to call things what they are and not sugarcoat them,’ I say.
‘I hear you. I just don’t think failure is the whole story of anything you just listed off. It’s not the whole picture.’
‘I know.’ I can hear the bitter edge in my own voice. ‘You think everything happens for a reason. Did Zoe disappear for a reason? Did I get cheated on for a reason?’
‘That’s not how it works.’ His voice remains calm, but with some unwavering conviction underneath. ‘You can’t always know the reasons, especially not when you’re in the thick of it. You just have to trust there is one.’
‘Trust who? God? The universe? You?’ I let out a harsh laugh. ‘Who’s in charge of making things make sense? I’ve been burned before, OK? So I’m going to need some pretty damn solid proof before I start handing out my trust.’
‘And what about trusting me?’ says Liam, his tone taking on a sudden controlled intensity. He steps closer. Heat lightning strobes through the sky.
I release a laugh-sob. ‘Seems like a tall order, at the moment.’
‘How do I earn your trust?’ He looks down, and I feel our height difference – his strength, and how easily he could overcome me if he wanted to.
‘Why do you want it?’
‘I think that’s obvious.’
I don’t respond.
‘I didn’t date her.’ His tone goes low. ‘I didn’t even meet her – ever. What do I have to do to prove that to you, Margot?’
He’s so close that if I take the smallest step forward, I’d be in his arms – and suddenly, that’s what I want.
To trust him. To be held, crushed in his strong embrace.
To not be alone. To confide in him about my Reddit digging, the reason I took the job at Anderson & Pulaski – everything.
To have someone walking with me through this twisty road I can’t see the end of.
I open my mouth. ‘I—’
Then, my throat closes. No. I need to hold on. Wait until I get the results from the meat I pulled from his freezer. But even then, how can I know, for sure? All I have is his word. And words are cheap. George can wax eloquent all she wants about leaps of faith, but what if I leap and crash?
I growl in frustration, because after all of this, after months of sleuthing, after literally arming myself with literal weapons and risking my life to get into Liam’s apartment, and even after seeing literal footage of someone dropping Zoe’s paintings off at the gallery, I have nothing to hang on to that’s certain.
How long am I going to keep spinning my wheels? A scary, new thought takes center stage in my brain.
You just admitted your investigation is a failure. Maybe it’s time to stop.
My heart squeezes. Stop looking for Zoe? No!
You’ve paid your dues. It hasn’t led you anywhere. Maybe it’s time.
As if the weather is responding to me, a crack of thunder peals above us. Then, with no further warning, the skies open up and the rain comes beating down.
I yelp, and we both start running. We grab each other’s hands by instinct as a bolt of lightning zaps across the sky. We splash through a puddle, and then—
‘Here!’ Liam pulls me under an awning. Light and music are spilling out of big, open doors.
We’ve stumbled into a salsa dance studio.
A class is in full swing, with a dozen couples dancing to a Tito Rodríguez song.
I’m panting, and my hair is dripping. I wring it out as Liam tries to dash water off the shoulders of his blazer, but it’s no use.
We’re soaked. Between kayaking and this, it seems our couples’ theme is getting rained on.
A dapper man in a tight white T-shirt and tight black pants notices us and beckons. ‘Drop-ins welcome! Twenty a person for the hour, come on in!’
Liam quirks an eyebrow at me, and suddenly, I’m laughing, because after all my intense feelings, this is the most ridiculous, non-sequitur thing that could possibly happen, and he’s grabbing my waist and spinning me into the group, front row, the instructor’s jaunty butt swaying right in front of us.
It’s humid in here, sticky, and Liam’s hand on my lower back is warm. The hypnotic pulse of the song fills my senses, rolling over all my anger and frustration and scattering it.
I have a split second of hesitation – is this smart? Maybe yes, maybe no, but the truth is, everything in me wants to let go, to let loose, just for a minute. We’re trapped until the rain stops. I can treat this like parenthesis. A breather.
‘Now we’re gonna do a one-two step together …’ says the instructor. ‘Three four and together …’
Our feet move in tandem, Liam’s hand pressing me close. It’s so hard to know what’s real and what’s pretend – but there’s no denying the hardness of his body under my hands.
Liam leans close, his breath warm. ‘You’re a natural.’
‘I took lessons as a kid.’
‘Fancy.’
‘Not really. I wanted to do ice skating but it was too expensive. This was their compromise.’
‘Now we’re gonna do our spin! Ready?’ says the instructor. ‘Step to the side – one, two, three, right foot out – six, seven! You got it!’
Liam spins me and I spin back, breathless.
‘You’re not bad, either,’ I say with a laugh.
‘I also took lessons as a kid.’
‘No way.’
‘I guess we were both preparing for this moment, huh?’ He’s grinning. Our hips sway together.
Suddenly, I step on his foot.
‘Whoops – sorry—’
His lips lift in a half smile. ‘You’re trying to lead.’
‘Bad habit.’ It was my greatest weakness, according to Miss Nieves, my old dance instructor.
‘Let me lead.’ His breath feathers across my cheeks as he leans close. ‘Trust me.’
‘OK.’
Then, our eyes lock, and we just dance. No words, just bodies moving, breaths in sync.
The music is loud, the rhythm beating in my skin like my body is the drum.
I haven’t danced in years – not counting my drunk stumbling with Liam at the bar during our first date – but I remember these feelings.
How, when I’m dancing, it’s almost impossible to feel sad.
Like sorrow can’t coexist with the vibrations rumbling through my bones and the energy of the step-step.
I used to feel this way when Zoe and I went out in our late teens and early twenties, until I started begging off. Now I wish I’d never stopped.
Suddenly, my hips are locked with Liam’s.
Holding his gaze is like a drug, and the intensity of his attention washes through me in waves as we sway back and forth in step.
Fast-fast-slow, fast-fast-slow … I do want to trust him.
But I don’t want to be stupid. I know how women are portrayed in the media.
Either completely blind to the red flags waving in front of them, or obsessive and spiraling into conspiracy theories. What’s the middle road?
I look into Liam’s eyes. Who are you? I try to send. His gaze never falters, his control is perfect, and suddenly there’s a burst of lust exploding in my core and all I want is to drag my tongue up his neck like I did last night and feel the beat of his pulse against my tongue.
Outside, the rain is pouring down. Moisture is dripping down my back, and I can’t tell if it’s rainwater or sweat. Michael Bublé’s Sway starts playing and suddenly the lights turn down, a rotating disco ball casting purple and blue lights all around us.
‘Free dance for this one, everyone do your thing,’ cries the instructor, mopping his brow and stepping aside.
A few couples leave the dance floor for the water cooler.
‘Should we take a break?’ I murmur, even though that’s the last thing I want to do.
Liam’s grip on me just tightens.
My hand trails down Liam’s shoulder to his chest. His shirt is damp. I don’t want to stop.
He spins me out, then draws me back in, closer than before. Then, he’s dipping his face down, and he’s nudging my lips open, gently sinking his lips into mine.
I tilt my head back and let him.
*
The second I get home and lock the door behind me, I collapse on to the couch.
Something happened between Liam and me on the dance floor. I can’t call it trust. Or maybe I’m just not ready to. All I know is, there’s been a shift, and it’s not a lizard brain thing. It’s deeper. Less reactionary. More intuitive.
I glance at my phone. It’s just after nine p.m. – plenty of time for my usual routine.
For some reason, though, I can’t fathom eating another lasagna, even if it was the last food available in the entire world.
Pulling up a food delivery app, I place a spontaneous order for some Tikka Masala from my favorite Indian place.
While I wait for my food, I change into PJ’s and fuzzy socks and settle down with my laptop.
But instead of opening Reddit, I type into the browser, How to get a small business loan.
I’m not saying I’m giving up on Zoe tonight. But maybe I could be allowed to spend a few hours thinking about my future instead of the past.
After all, Reddit will still be there tomorrow.