“A bit?” I dragged both hands down my face. “Has she been to a doctor?” I demanded quietly.
Liam aggressively motioned for me to lower my voice as he whispered, “I’m finally making some progress with her this week.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” I threw my arms out.
Liam’s eyes shuttered. “She ate a piece of fruit yesterday.” He gripped the back of his neck, and I knew he was aware of the utter absurdity of that statement.
“Fruit?!” I whisper-shouted. “She needs more than fucking fruit, Liam.”
“You think I don’t know that? You think I’m not doing enough?” Liam snapped. “I’m doing everything I can possibly think of! I make her all her favorite foods every fucking day.” He started counting on his fingers. “Lasagna, truffle grilled cheese, Chicken Piccata, stir-fry, Lebanese. I’ve baked her every type of goddamn cookie I can think of, and she hardly touches any of it.” He threw his hands up. “Last week, I sourced the most insane ingredients from one of my contacts and made her a fucking omakase.” He wiped his hand through the air. “Nothing.” Sheer panic filled his eyes. “She used to beg me for that kind of shit all the time and now—all she eats are those shitty little cheese sticks.” He laughed wildly. “Cheese sticks, Carter.”
I motioned for him to lower his voice.
“I could make her any dish she wanted, but she won’t eat.” Hehissed, the exhaustion taking over. “I can’t force the food down her fucking throat—though trust me, I’ve debated it. Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck to do anymore.” He was on the verge of hyperventilating.
“Liam, breathe.” I gripped his shoulder supportively. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meanyouaren’t doing enough.” I lowered my voice, continuing carefully. “But I think she needs actual medical attent?—”
Liam pinched the bridge of his nose and cut me off. “Just,” he blew out a breath, begging, “Please, just for this weekend, don’t make a big deal about it, okay?” His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Sheneedsthis weekend to go well.Ineed for her to enjoy her birthday.” He conceded authoritatively, “I promise I’ll take her in. After the weekend is over.”
There was a knock at the door, and Liam ripped it open and leaned against it, looking only mildly guilty.
Sara looked between the two of us. “You two making out in here or something?”
“Yup.” I forced a smile. “Bromance for the win.”
“Right.” Her tired eyes darted between us, trying to figure out the weird energy. “Well, I need some long arms. I don’t care which ones.”
“At your service, milady.” I followed her back into the hallway, shooting Liam a stern look over my shoulder. “First thing Monday.” I mouthed a silent shout.
“I know.” He mouthed back.
Sara had a small journal tucked under her arm, and at the end of the hallway, she opened a set of built-in cabinets and pointed to a dark green felt box on the top shelf.
I pulled the box down, realizing it was far heavier than it looked.
“Thanks,” Sara said, her long hair falling limply over her shoulder as she opened the box and carefully tucked the journal inside, next to several rows of identical journals.
“What is all this?” I asked curiously, if not hopefully, because projects were good, staying busy was good.
She put the lid back on the box and smiled sadly. “My mother's journals. I don’t want them out, you know, if people are coming over.”
I nodded, waiting to see if she would say anything else, but she didn’t as I slid the box back up on the shelf.
“Thanks.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and left me standing there, trying to figure out how to make the next two days as happy as humanly possible for her.
While we grazed on appetizers at the kitchen island, I kept my gaze casual as I kept track of what Sara ate—which was all of nothing, so far. The wine, however, was a different story.
“Can I do anything to help?” Gina asked, sliding her arms around Liam’s neck.
“No, baby.” Liam threaded an arm around her waist and hauled her against him, while he whisked something on the stove with his free hand. “You’ve been working so hard, and I want you to go sit down and rest.” He paused, giving her a long, slow kiss with enough tongue that I awkwardly fidgeted with my watch, pretending not to notice. “Think you can do that for me?” He asked.
“Are you sure?” She hummed, a sound that was definitely a moan, and I was glad he had her to help him cope with all this, but I certainly didn’t need to hearthat.
Liam smirked and leaned into Gina’s ear, whispering something that had her biting her lip, and moment later, when he dragged his finger through some sort of sauce and slid his finger into her mouth—Sara and I both picked up our phones, getting awkwardly busy.
Liam eventually carried Gina around the kitchen island andplanted her on a barstool next to me and Sara, before he returned to the stove. As Liam milled around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up his tatted arms, towel tucked neatly into his waist apron, he was totally in the zone. Liam moved through the kitchen the way I maneuvered my jet through the skies—with utter precision and focus.
One minute he was skewering a spoon in and out of a shiny sauce so fast you’d wondered if he’d even tasted it, and the next he was plating something with such intensity, you didn’t dare breathe while you watched.
