Chapter Eight #2
Liam doesn’t have to explain Pippa’s timeline either.
The summer and winter recitals are the biggest events of the year for the studio.
Each will have two weekends and a Wednesday night performance, which is uncommon.
Pippa respects her dancers’ education just as much as their craft, so the recitals are always scheduled for the first week of the winter and summer vacations.
Pippa would want the extra time as a precaution.
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “There’s not a lot you get out of this. I’m not asking for some big show in front of the town, but maybe you could continue to play elusive when people talk about me. At least for a few weeks.”
I give him an exasperated look. “You underestimate how much the old women of this town love gossip and ‘young love.’” I use the term lightly since we’re both over thirty, but that’s how those old bats will describe it.
“If you want to sell this long enough for Pippa to feel confident working with you, it will require a bit of a show.”
Looking defeated, he bobs his head and taps his hand on the glass. “It was really stupid.”
My stomach sinks as he pushes off the counter. I don’t want him to leave, not when I can help him.
…not when having him here feels like adorning armor I thought I lost in the divorce.
Before I can second guess myself, I step forward. “I—wait.”
When his cornflower-blue eyes land on me, all my apprehension melts away. He’s so hopeful, I almost start to believe I could be the answer to all his problems.
Liam Maddon would probably kiss the ground I walk on if I agree to his ridiculous plan.
Surprisingly, that’s not what’s most enticing.
Biting my lip, I push past my stubbornness and admit, “There is something I would get from this agreement.”
He tilts his head, curious about what he could do for me, but it doesn’t take long for it to click.
“Stefan might leave you alone if you are seeing someone else,” he says.
I pretend to be interested in my nails, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe—or he could be worse.”
Gaining the courage to look up at him, I’m surprised by his expression. He doesn’t look like he pities me or like he’s put off by the nuisance of an ex-husband. There’s a protective fire slowly burning as blue and bright as the hottest of flames.
“Do you think it’s going to get worse?” He crosses his arms, standing straighter and broader.
I open my mouth, the word no on the tip of my tongue, but I close it just as quickly.
The door to the kitchen swings open and I turn to see Chuck carrying a tray with an assortment of bread. He comes to a slow stop as he takes in the tattooed man standing on the other side of the counter.
To my horror, he asks, “Is this the brute?”
“Excuse me?” Liam asks with a snort.
Glancing back at him, there’s only amusement and confusion when his eyes meet mine.
Chuck sets the tray down, but turns back to me rather than setting them on the shelves. He raises his eyebrows in expectation, giving me the floor to tell Liam what that means.
“I got a voicemail this morning,” I say with as much nonchalance as I can muster. “Stefan believes what the rest of the town does, and he’s humiliated by his harlot of an ex-wife.”
The end is an exaggeration, but he has called me a harlot once before. I laughed in his face, and it’s the only time I thought he might slap me. For all the cruel things Stefan did, he never did that.
“So, it’s already getting worse,” Liam states matter-of-factly.
Still, I say, “No,” at the same time Chuck says, “It is.”
“And if the town continues to think we’re dating, he will start to cause problems for a lot more people—like you,” I say and point at Liam. Looking at Chuck, I add, “Maybe you and the staff as well. I know Stefan, and that’s the last thing I’ve ever wanted.”
“I’m a big boy, Calypso,” Liam says from behind me. I turn to look at him and place my hands on the counter, mimicking his earlier stance. “I can handle someone like Stefan. I’m not saying you can’t either, but why carry this burden by yourself for so long?”
Turning to look out the window, I blink quickly and swallow down old, dusty emotions I put into a box decades ago. It’s always been my responsibility to hold everyone else’s baggage, to protect those around me from the painful experiences.
After Dad died, even after the Millers came into our life, my relationship with my own mother never fully went back to what it was. We were always just a step below equal footing, often tossing the role of caretaker back and forth like a game of hot potato.
Before I have to say anything, Chuck cuts in, “You should listen to him, Boss.”
With that, Chuck goes back to his task and quickly walks back to the kitchen.
Now just Liam and me, we stare at each other for a long moment.
I know this ridiculous, stupid idea has some merit to it.
A small, cruel part of me still wants that companionship, that love, that I thought a marriage would be.
I can’t bring myself to agree to the plan, but I’m not fighting him on it either.
As the silence drags on, Liam pulls a pen out of his pocket and grabs a napkin. He quickly scribbles down his number and slides it across the counter.
“We can figure this out later, if you want to, but I want you to have this,” Liam says. The meaningful look he tacks on silently implies it’s for when Stefan contacts me again.
I take the paper and slip it into my leggings pocket. It’s enough for him, so he pushes off the counter and says with a wink, “See you around, honey.”
Shaking my head, I bite back a smile and take another sip of my tea, watching him leave Brighter Daze.
I’ve always hated pet names, only used to hearing them with more condescension than affection.
The singular word sends a delightful shiver down my spine when he’s the one saying it, reminiscent of the soft brush of his fingers as he unzipped my dress.
Who knows what chaos dating the new guy in town will cause, but trouble sounds a hell of a lot more enticing when it’s wrapped up in tattoos and a broad, six-foot-two build.
I don’t spend my day contemplating if I should text him. I already know I will, because it’s easier to say yes when I don’t have to look at his devastatingly handsome face at the same time.