Chapter 19
nineteen
MAYA
The day after Thanksgiving is the first time that I have nowhere to be. Ellie’s blood pressure spiked last night, so Theo texted to tell me he and Ezra are taking her to the doctor. I offered to join or take her myself, but he said I get the day off.
They seem to think they are doing me a favor.
But with nothing on the agenda for helping Ellie, how will I escape thoughts of Liam all day?
I still don’t remember our night together, not entirely, but that dream held so much meaning. The way he begged me to see him again. The way I promised I would. Even the way our bodies moved together, like we were designed for it, two pieces of a puzzle, I can’t stop picturing it. I want to know the rest.
“Good morning, Princess Maya!” Poppy cheers when she enters my room and flops onto the bed. Liam wasn’t joking about needing to lock the door. But I’ve grown accustomed to her morning wake-up calls. I kind of crave them.
I’m pretty sure I used to wake up Ellie the same way when we first became roommates. Well, minus the princess title. But I was so excited to have a friend at home, I couldn’t contain myself. The second I woke up I wanted to hang out with her.
“Hey, Pop-tart,” I greet, pulling back the covers to let her snuggle in next to me. I have to admit, the girl has impeccable timing. Whether I’m actually touching Liam, or just thinking about it, she seems to know exactly when to intervene.
“Can we make breakfast before you go to Aunt Ellie’s?”
“Yes to breakfast. And we can take all the time you want. Because you’re stuck with me today.”
“Really?” The unfiltered joy on Poppy’s face makes me want to cry. Even when I only get a few minutes with her, Poppy makes every day better. If I’m honest, I never gave much thought to having kids. It’s not like I have all these great childhood memories I want to recreate. Stevie has been my first and only shot at babysitting. And my work has always kept me so busy traveling, even when Ryan and I got engaged, we said kids were a very distant possibility.
I’ve assumed for most of my life I’d be a horrible mom. It seemed like it would be selfish of me to even consider it.
But now, after all the time I’ve spent with Poppy, I might need to reflect on those plans. I keep thinking about how dull life will be when I go back to New York. If I go back to New York. Maybe I’ll just stay here forever, or until they finally kick me out.
“Really,” I reply. “What do you think we should make? Maybe we can do something, just you and me. Cook for your dad for a change.”
She looks at me with heavy skepticism. “What can you make?”
“Hey! I can make scrambled eggs. And toast. And I’m really good at reheating stuff your dad freezes.”
“No you’re not,” she replies simply. “I had to teach you the defrost button.”
“Ahh,” I huff, rolling over and tickling Poppy until she screams. “It’s not my fault you’re way too smart for your age. Can’t we just pretend for a minute?”
“What’s going o—” Liam’s voice makes me pause. He clearly heard us and now sees us but he’s still lingering just outside the open door.
“You can come in,” I announce. It’s obvious he’s checking to see if I’m dressed, still half hidden under the covers. But after my first wake-up call via Poppy, I learned to sleep in actual pajamas and not my usual underwear combo.
“Daddy, help. Maya wants to make breakfast without you. I’m scared.”
“Traitor!” I attack her with more tickles, mostly because the sound of her squeals and giggles is like music for my soul. “And who taught you sarcasm?”
“I’m pretty sure you did,” Liam replies, just as Poppy asks what sarcasm is. “Did someone get cocky after preparing Thanksgiving dinner?” he quips.
“No. I know I can’t really cook but I thought it’d be nice to try. You know, give you a break for once.”
Liam’s quiet for a moment as his eyes slide over the bed. Like he’s just now noticing that Poppy and I have been cuddling together. He seems pleased with his assessment.
“Well…” he drifts off. “That’s nice of you to offer. But I already started on something. Just trying to use up leftovers.”
I squint at him, twist my lips. I’ve seen him do this enough to know it’s an act. Liam loves to pretend like he puts in zero effort. Oh, it’s just a chocolate milkshake when in reality he spent days perfecting the recipe. People at the diner are always talking about the quality of Liam’s ingredients. What they don’t realize is that he grows half of them himself in his greenhouse and goes to multiple farms across New England for the rest. Even the cornish hens for Thanksgiving had to be picked up last week all the way from Maine, because apparently finding a farm with free-range, organic, antibiotic-free cornish hens is a difficult feat.
So I know Liam isn’t throwing together any leftovers. Hell, he probably came up with items for yesterday’s menu with the intention of using them for a big day-after breakfast. He is absolutely diabolical with his thoughtfullness.
But I don’t say anything, because I’m sure it will be delicious. I just put on some fluffy socks and slippers and head downstairs to the kitchen, bed head and all.
Eight hours later and I’m still in my pajamas.
After Ellie’s appointment in Burlington last week, she convinced me to go shopping in town for Christmas presents. I had no idea that going into a store called The Vermont Flannel Company would have me swiping my black card faster than at a Sephora, but consider me converted to the mountain life. I left that store with multiple sets of pajamas for myself, a few more for Poppy, and a blanket in every color-combo of plaid you can imagine. They went with Liam’s decor.
And today, after all eight inches of promised snow came down last night, I couldn’t be happier to be wrapped in Vermont’s finest flannel from head to toe. We’ve been lounging around, watching holiday movies all day.
Liam made corn cake waffles . And some magical hash with leftovers that absolutely did not taste like leftovers. And then he baked brownies, but tested a new recipe made with sweet potatoes in the batter. I had four.
Another movie ends and Liam swipes through the options until Poppy sees something else she likes. Every time she picks something animated, he quietly apologizes to me. This time it’s Moana .
“I don’t mind. I love this one.” And I love that Poppy gets to grow up with these amazing characters as role models. Nothing like what I had as a kid. Girls and women who are worth so much more than capturing the attention of some mediocre prince with a good set of veneers.
But as much as I enjoy this movie, I’m barely paying attention. I haven’t been paying attention to much in hours, not since Liam started touching me.
It’s PG. Obviously. His daughter is lying on the couch with us, her feet dangling across his lap.
But in the corner of the sectional, under one of the many flannel blankets draped around us, his hand touched mine.
For a while that’s all it was. His skin brushing against mine, so subtle it could have been a mistake. But at some point during movie number three, it wasn’t subtle anymore. A quick graze became a caress. Simple strokes turned into circles.
And then, without ever noticing the change, it became intentional, fingers intertwining together.
We hold hands through the entirety of Moana .
We hold hands until my phone buzzes from the coffee table, causing me to jump.
Theo:
Can you come by for dinner? We brought back Chinese from Ellie’s favorite spot. She’s still kind of down from today
Me:
Sure. I’ll be over in 30
I let Liam know and head upstairs to shower. There’s a split second where I’m annoyed having to leave here, having to give up that perfect coziness on Liam’s couch. And then I’m barraged with guilt for even thinking it.
I’m here for Ellie, not Liam, not anyone else.
“Thanks for trying, Maya,” Theo murmurs as he runs his hands through his hair.
Dinner was sullen. I was honored they got my favorite dishes, but even the sticky cashew chicken and perfectly greasy scallion pancakes couldn’t cut the somber mood.
Ellie barely spoke, just snuggled Stevie, apologizing over and over for leaving her with Grandma and Grandpa all day. And before I had a chance to be alone with her, she went to bed and shut the door on all of us.
“Just give her a couple days,” Ezra replies. “She just needs to realize that the worst-case scenario isn’t a given of what’s to come. She’s in her head about it.”
The guys continue to talk as my eyes ping-pong between them.
“What happened at the doctor?” I interrupt. “Why is today different?”
Ezra throws me a pitying look. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. They just wanted her to know there’s a chance she’ll need to be induced…early. But I’ll keep monitoring her blood pressure and as of now, everything’s okay. Ellie just kept asking the doctors about worst-case scenarios and now she seems to think they’re some prophecy she can’t escape.”
Of course she does. Who wouldn’t get distracted by the worst possible outcome? As soon as a doctor tells you it’s possible, it feels real . More like a prediction than an outlier.
“So what do you think?” I ask him.
“Me?”
“Yeah. You’re a doctor. You understand all this stuff that we don’t. What do you think is a reasonable expectation?”
Ezra chews his lip, glances at Theo like he’s not sure how honest he should be right now. But then he tips his head back. The gesture screams “fuck it.”
“I think the next few months are going to be rough.” He pauses, apologizes to Theo with his eyes. “But I also believe she’ll come out of this okay. If anything, I’m more worried about the baby than Ellie. There’s still a high chance of preeclampsia, and yes, it’s possible she has to deliver early. But there’s also a chance that never happens and she delivers right on schedule, just like with Stevie. So I don’t see any point in worrying about an early induction until— unless it happens. And we’re lucky that Burlington has a world class NICU to care for the baby no matter how early they come. That’s what I think.”
I take a minute to digest everything he said. We knew it would be tough. Hell, that’s why I’m still here. If things do get worse, we’re prepared. Ellie and Theo have me, her brother, a whole support system on call to get her anything she needs.
And Ezra’s right. There’s no point in panicking now. It won’t change what happens next.
“Thank you. It’s kind of impossible to get an honest response from the doctors,” I say.
“Tell me about it,” Theo agrees.
I get back to Liam’s a little after eight. I can faintly hear him telling Poppy a bedtime story when I use our connecting bathroom.
I wash my face, brush my teeth, sort through all the conflicting feelings I’ve had throughout the day.
I’m leaning against the closet door in my bedroom, halfway through changing back into my heavenly pajamas when the door opens. But unlike every other night this happens, it isn’t Poppy sneaking in.
It’s Liam.
He shuts the door behind him, locks it. He leans back against it without a word.
I’m pantsless, frozen in place with my hands still holding onto the hem of my sweater, my boy shorts printed with cuddling otters on full display.
Liam doesn’t speak. He stares at me like I’m the moon. Beautiful, mysterious, out of reach. He’s perfectly still, a quiet ocean waiting for my next move.
“What are you doing here?” I finally ask.
“I don’t know.”
His eyes glow emerald green, a dreamy gaze latching onto mine.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he continues. I wait for more but he’s silent again.
“What have you been thinking about?”
He almost laughs, but not quite. “Everything.” Another long pause as his gaze travels over me, drinking me in. “What I can cook for you next. What you’ll like the most. What sounds you’ll make when you take your first bite.”
My mouth goes dry and I lick my lips. He watches, never missing a beat.
His legs start to move, just one step, subtly closing the distance between us.
“I think about how sweet you taste, how badly I want to kiss you again, how jealous I am when Poppy gets to share a bed with you.” He sucks on his bottom lip. “I think about how lucky it is that I even found you again, that you weren’t something I made up in my head.”
He takes another step. We’re still several feet away but somehow I can feel him on my skin. Goosebumps prickle across my bare legs, my stomach, my back. I want him so bad that I feel like a restrained magnet. At any moment my feet could float off the ground and I’ll crash against him.
“I think about how much I wish you remembered all of it. How I might never know if you felt the same way I did. But also that maybe I don’t care. Because we have this second chance and I want you so bad that I’ll take anything I can get.”
My chest is doing that thing you see in Bridgerton . My heart is racing so erratically that it feels like my boobs are reaching up to my throat. I tug at the neck of my sweater, needing air to cool down my hot skin. Because every word out of his mouth is setting me on fire.
“Mostly,” he says. And this time he looks right at me, not even a hint of amusement on his face. “Mostly I think about how badly I want to make you come.”
“Liam.” It’s me that takes a step this time, but he meets me right there, pulling me closer.
“Tell me you think about me too. Tell me you feel even a fraction of what I feel for you.”
“I think it’s a lot more than a fraction.” My confession is swallowed by Liam’s breath, his body pressing against me, telling me he’s lost all restraint.
His lips find mine like they’ve always known the way.
He kisses with expertise, just like in my dream. We do fit together perfectly, move together in an unpracticed rhythm that just works .
His hands glide down my back, sending more shivers through me as they get low enough to squeeze my ass. In seconds, I’m in the air, spinning until my back is against the door to the bathroom. He locks this one too.
“No more interruptions,” he whispers against my ear.
I gasp when he moves lower, sucking on my throat. My heaving breaths get more rapid with each press of his lips, each stroke of his tongue.
“Liam,” I gasp, feeling like I’m seconds away from imploding. “I need this off.” I tug on my sweater, helpless to get it over my head.
He sets me down and easily pulls the knit up and away from my body, tossing it to the floor.
“Beautiful.” His eyes wander up and down my bare skin, admiring the bra that matches my cuddling otter boy shorts. Not the best time to skip on sexy underwear, but I cannot get myself to care. And he doesn’t seem to be complaining.
I reach for his waistband, feeling the need to even the score here but he grabs my hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“Can I just—” He sighs. “Can I focus on you for now?”
This catches me off guard. I’m all for a man who knows when to be selfless, but I’m so ready to recreate that night together, the need is devouring me.
“Why can’t we focus on each other?” I tease, sliding my hand back to his hips.
He grabs my wrist, finds the other one and pins them both above my head, pushing me back against the door.
“I know what you want, Maya. I know what you’re thinking.” His nose grazes my cheek as he speaks, his voice so deep and gravelly I have to clench my thighs. “Recreating the best sex of your life is a lot of pressure. And it’s been a while. So let me make this good for you.”
His lips find the spot under my ear, nibbling and sucking on the tender skin. I close my eyes, let myself get lost in the feel of him, try not to focus on the hardness pressing against my middle.
His beard tickles me as his head moves lower, laying scorching kisses across my collarbones while he delicately removes my bra. He has this perfect mix of soft and rough. A bite followed by the most tender press of his lips. A swirl of his tongue around one nipple while he pinches the other. It all feels so good, too good, I find myself trying to memorize every sensation. I never want to forget this again.
His knees hit the floor just as his fingers twist around my underwear.
“These are very cute,” he murmurs, his mouth against my thigh. “But I like what’s under them better.”
He tugs them down and I feel his breath between my legs, a whoosh of cool air that makes my knees buckle.
“So pretty.”
He mumbles a few other words I can’t make out and then I’m being lifted again. This time, he carries me to the bed and lays me down.
He kneels at my feet, just drinking in the sight of me. I’ve never been self-conscious, always felt okay with my body. But I’ve never felt like this, like I wanted someone to just stare . And I never knew it could turn me on this much. I feel like a vigorously shaken champagne bottle, completely ready to pop.
Still kneeling, he tugs off his shirt. Anticipation laces up my spine, hopeful for what this means. But instead of following with his sweatpants, he balls up the shirt and offers it directly to my mouth.
“What are you…”
“I don’t want to wake up Poppy,” he whispers. “And you’ve got some pipes.”
I scoff, unsure if I should be offended. But there was a part of my dream where I remember being…vocal. I don’t think I’m typically loud during sex, but maybe with him I am.
I take the offered shirt in my hand, still unclear what he’s suggesting, but then I feel him. His tongue skating up my thigh, his fingers digging into my hips. And a moan slips out of me.
He picks his head up, throws me the same look he gives Poppy when she doesn’t do what she’s told. I try to stifle a giggle.
“Sorry.” The shirt goes into my mouth, just enough to muffle any other sounds I might make. The grin he sends me is pure wicked delight.
And before I can think on that too much, his tongue finds me again, this time sliding up my center. Thank god for the shirt. He was right.
Each nip, suck and kiss between my legs has me wound tighter and tighter. I’m panting around his T-shirt, writhing under his hold. My hips buck, my legs flex, my hands grab onto any part of him they can reach.
And then, just when I feel like I’m close to some kind of relief, he stops.
I whimper, the shirt only muffling the sound slightly. Torture is what this feels like. But he laughs.
He slides up my body, his hands roaming before taking the shirt out of my mouth and replacing it with his lips.
“I got you, Bloom,” he whispers. “I just like to watch.”
His hand slides between my legs, finding the spot I need instantly. Now, every sound I make is drowned out by his kisses.
“Fuck. You feel as good as you taste.”
I cry out again and he flips us on our sides, hitching my leg over his hip.
“Ride it out, beautiful,” he encourages. And my hips are already moving, finding every bit of friction I can.
He pulls me closer against him, his lips finding my shoulder while he puts the shirt back in my mouth.
His teeth scrape against me and his hips start to mimic my own. Our bodies rock together as he whispers obscenities onto my skin.
And then I snap, so suddenly I almost don’t believe it. Every inch of my flesh fizzes as I float above the bed, boneless and utterly satisfied.
He groans, jerking against me a few times until he stills.
“Fuck,” he murmurs into the crook of my neck. “You’re so fucking sexy, Maya.”
He’s panting into my neck, trailing kisses down the center of my chest. Finally, he rests his head between my breasts, face down like I’m the most delicious source of oxygen.
“Did you…”
He scoffs, but I can feel the stretch of his smile on my skin. “I’m too happy right now to be embarrassed. Don’t ruin it for me.”
A small laugh bubbles out of me. “I’m honored, actually. How long has it been?”
He tilts his head back, resting his chin on my chest.
“You know exactly how long, beautiful.”
My jaw flies open. “You mean, I’m the last…” I trail off, almost afraid to speak the words.
“I’m not exactly living the bachelor lifestyle out here.”
“That’s…wow…I, umm?—”
“You don’t regret this, do you?” He reaches up until he’s propped up on an elbow, hovering over me. “I didn’t want to lie to you, but?—”
“I don’t care. That was amazing. All I’m thinking about is when we can do it again.”
He lets out a breath, instantly relaxing. The weight of his body falls over me again and he kisses me. He’s so sweet, so tender and gentle with me. A complete surprise to the grumpy chef vibes he’s portrayed since we first met.
We sink back into each other, lips finding skin, hands exploring. He stiffens against me. Already? I guess after two years, he’s eager to make up for lost time.
I find his waistband, hoping I’m not being too pushy if he still wants to wait. But just as I start to push it down, we freeze, hearing a soft knock at the door.