27. Liv
Chapter twenty-seven
Liv
Istep over the threshold and kiss him.
For one second, Josh goes still.
Then his hand comes to my face, and he kisses me back.
The hallway, the suitcase, the trash bag at his feet, the day I have had, the flight I almost missed—all of it drops away. There is only Josh’s hand against my cheek and the warm, familiar shape of his mouth.
I grip the front of his shirt and step closer. His other hand comes to my back, careful for one second before his fingers press in like he has stopped pretending this is only hello.
The kiss deepens.
My shoulder brushes the doorframe, and Josh shifts, turning me just enough to bring me fully inside. The door stays open behind me. The hall light spills over our feet. Neither of us seems to care.
I should care.
I don’t.
I kiss him harder.
His hand slides into my hair, and then I have him — his breath catching against mine, his hand warm at my back, his mouth slowing only when both of us need air.
My forehead comes to rest against his. His hand is still in my hair. My fingers are still twisted in his shirt.
Neither of us moves. The trash bag lies on the floor near his bare foot.
“Hi,” I say.
His laugh breaks first. “Hi.”
My eyes close when his thumb moves once along my cheek. His mouth is still close enough that I feel the word against my skin.
“You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
He kisses me once, soft and quick.
“You were in Chicago.”
“I was.”
Another kiss, closer to the corner of my mouth this time.
“You had a deposition.”
“I did.”
I open my eyes, and his are right there.
“Did it go badly?” he asks.
“No.”
His thumb moves along my cheek again. His gaze drops to my mouth.
“Did someone chase you?”
“No.”
“Did you break any laws getting here?”
A laugh slips out of me. “Probably one airport rule.”
His mouth touches mine before he asks, “Which one?”
A laugh slips out of me. “I may have cut a boarding line.”
His mouth touches mine before he asks, “You cut a line?”
“Barely.”
“Liv.”
“Fine. Yes.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. Then he kisses me again.
Not quick this time.
His hand slides into my hair, and by the time he pulls back, I have both hands on his shirt and no idea what we were talking about.
His mouth curves. Just barely. “I missed that.”
“What?”
His thumb moves once along my lower lip. “Being the reason you forget how to talk.”
I should have an answer for that.
I have nothing.
His smile deepens, and that finally brings me back.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” I say.
“Too late.”
I breathe out, still too close to his mouth. I make myself say the thing I came here to say.
“I didn’t come back for Reyes,” I say.
“I know.”
“I wanted to,” I say. “For one insane minute, I thought maybe I could get back in time.”
“You couldn’t have.”
“I know.” I look down at his shirt, at the place my fingers have wrinkled the cotton. “When I was done, I checked flights anyway.”
Josh says nothing, but his thumb stills against my cheek.
I look up at him. “I came back for you.”
Josh closes his eyes for half a second. When he opens them, the look on his face almost takes my knees.
“Liv.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“I know the tone.”
That gets the smallest smile from him. Barely there, but enough.
He looks past me toward the hall. “Your suitcase is still outside.”
“So is your trash.”
“That feels like a fair trade.”
I laugh.
Josh bends and pulls my suitcase over the threshold. Then he takes the trash into the hall, drops it by the chute, and comes back.
And closes the door.
The apartment smells like clean bottles, coffee, and him. The kitchen light is on. The living room blanket is folded badly over the arm of the couch. The schedule is still taped to the fridge.
The place looks the same.
But it doesn't feel the same.
Josh stands in front of me and places his hands on my hips.
This time, I step into him before he can pull me in.
“I found the note,” I say.
His hand tightens at my waist. “I didn’t want to push.”
“You did.”
His shoulders tense, so I put my hand on his chest.
“You pushed exactly enough.”
He looks down at my hand.
His hand covers mine against his chest. For a few seconds, we let that be enough.
His arms come around me. My hands slide up to his neck, and my fingers find the tight place at the base of his skull, and his eyes close for half a second.
“I missed you,” he says.
He sounds almost surprised by it.
So am I.
My fingers curl against his skin. “I missed you too.”
He exhales against my cheek. The weight in his shoulders shifts. He kisses my forehead, slow enough that my eyes close.
“I worried I pushed too hard after the walk,” he says.
“You did.”
His face goes still.
I squeeze his shirt. “And I needed you to.”
“I didn’t like it,” I say. “I am not saying I enjoyed being called out on my personal nonsense.”
“Your legal term?”
“My very legal term.”
His mouth softens.
“But you were right,” I say. “I was scared of how fast this started feeling like my life.”
He waits, and somehow that makes it easier to keep going.
“I thought I was dipping one toe back in,” I say. “Helping with Iris. Keeping things organized. Being useful.”
I pause.
“Then somewhere in the middle of it, I wanted to be more.”
I keep going before I can lose the nerve. “Chicago was supposed to give me room.”
“And did it?”
I think about the clean desk, the white duvet, the silent room. No baby monitor. No Josh. No one needing me. No one waiting for me.
“No,” I say. “It gave me proof.”
His gaze stays on mine.
“That room was everything I used to think I wanted,” I say. “Quiet. Clean. Mine.”
“And?”
“And it got me through seven years.”
He does not smile.
"But it's not enough anymore. It's not what I want."
He only looks at me like he knows how much that cost me to say.
“I don’t think I said yes because of Iris,” I say.
His hand stills.
“When you knocked on my door fourteen days ago, I told myself it was the baby. The emergency. The responsible thing.”
“It was those things.”
“Yes.” I nod. “But not only.”
I feel my pulse in my throat.
“I could have said no,” I say.
His eyes search mine.
“But I didn’t.”
“No,” he says softly. “You didn’t.”
I look down at my hand on his chest. “I told myself it was because of Iris. Because you needed help. Because it was the decent thing to do.”
His thumb moves once against my waist.
“And it was all of that,” I say.
I draw in a breath.
“But I think I was also ready to find out if we still worked.”
He goes very still.
“Us,” I add, because the word is sitting right there and I am tired of stepping around it. “If us still worked.”
His mouth curves, small and helpless.
“That was almost precise.”
A laugh breaks out of me. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late.”
I breathe out, and my hand slides higher on his chest. “Maybe Iris was the kick in the pants I needed.”
His smile deepens. “The kick in the pants.”
“Do not make me regret sharing.”
“Never.”
He says it quietly enough that the laugh catches in my throat and kisses me again.
This time, there is nothing startled about it. His arms are already around me, and they tighten just enough to bring me closer.
He knows I’m here.
I know I came back.
The kiss is slower than the first one. Steadier. The tips of his fingers brush my jaw, and my fingers tighten at the back of his neck.
When he pulls back, his mouth stays close to mine.
“I washed the guest room sheets,” he says.
I blink. “That’s what you want to tell me right now?”
“I wish I’d known you were coming back.”
“Because?”
“I wouldn’t have wasted the laundry.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“I’m not.”
He laughs and I step into him again, and this kiss is softer.
His hands hold my face this time. Like he cannot believe he is allowed.
I answer by kissing him again.
When we pull apart, the apartment is quiet in a different way.
Not empty.
Not waiting.
His eyes move toward the nursery hall. “Iris is asleep.”
“Good.”
“She will be very happy to see you in the morning.”
My throat tightens. “Will she be the only one?”
“No.”
The answer comes fast. No hesitation.
My eyes sting, and I look down before he can see too much. He steps closer and pulls me into his arms.
We stand there for a long time. Long enough for my breathing to match his. Long enough for the day to stop chasing me.
His mouth touches the side of my head.
“Definitely not,” he says.
I close my eyes.
That is all I wanted.
No. That is not true.
It’s only the first thing I wanted.