I wave back, take a breath, and head toward him. The sliding door sticks as I shove it open, and the stone path is brutally cold against the bare soles of my feet.
“Come on in, the water’s fine,” Liam says. He gazes at me through half-lidded eyes.
“I’m good.”
“I can literally hear your teeth chattering.” He stands, revealing a teal pair of swim trunks that suction to his thighs. Steam drifts off his skin. “I’ll pick you up and put you in here if I need to.”
Tempting as that offer is, I climb the small ladder myself. “Fine. Since when did you get bossy?”
“Since you walked out here in zero-degree weather.”
I fight back a smile as I settle on the edge, feet burning at the initial shock of heat. The water hits up to my mid-thigh, and I pull the top of my robe tighter around me while the rest trails behind me. “There you go again, worrying about my well being.”
“Obviously, someone has to.”
“What about you? I should have asked how you were doing after what happened.” Instead, I got mad at him. Not because of my work, but because I truly thought we were close enough that he’d disclose the information about him taking over the lodge.
“I’m fine.”
“Historically, that’s what people say when they’re not fine,” I say and make sure to soften my voice as I continue. “It’s okay if you aren’t. I’m here for the not okay bits too. That’s why I’m here.”
I’ve found that people are rarely “fine” for their own sake. More often than not, it’s because they don’t want to makeother people uncomfortable, or feel obligated to share their emotions. And Liam is the prime example of someone who’d fold himself up as small as possible if it meant making others more comfortable.
He slaps his hand through the water, sending a spray to hit the exposed skin of my thighs, my shorts now barely covering my ass. “I wish he had held off long enough for us to at least get settled in. I really did mean to tell you, I just kept putting it off.” A laugh puffs from his lips. “Jasmine was always on me to get out more so I could enjoy it all before heading back here. When I finally did get out there with you, I had the time of my life. It’s not like I belonged there. You saw; I couldn’t hail a cab for shit.”
“Thank God for the subway. It’s far cheaper too and where else can you get free mariachi performances at six in the morning?”
“You know what I mean.”
I do, still I ask. “Can’t you just tell him no?”
“We made the deal a long time ago. If I had been competing, we’d wait until I was ready to retire, which could have been anytime leading up to my mid-thirties. But obviously, I tapped out early. So he paid for my college, let me get out of here to experience the real world and build a work ethic, however I chose to do so, as long as I came back after I turned twenty-eight.”
“So, then what? You just stop writing?”
“Because gift guides are world changing. They're just silly little articles.”
I shrug off the robe and sink into the water. My shirt balloons around me, the hem of my shorts hovering at my sides. I step closer until I’m standing between his spread legs. I grip his face with my hands and tilt his jaw so he has no choice but to look at me. All thoughts about boundaries vanish as a need to tell how completely stupid he sounds consumes me.
“Thosesilly little articleshelped me survive when I had no direction. They were humorous and full of heart and gave me a chance to feel like a person again when my life was in shambles. You don’t have to be Tolstoy to be important—to touch lives. You touched mine before I met you. You asked me once what I did at the end of the day when I came home from being someone else? I felt like a goddamn wreck—a shell. So I’d throw on some sweats and see if you’d written something new. I read what you wrote and I was able to forget my worries and have a few moments of pure joy; you can’t put a price on that.”
I don’t know who I’m more mad at. Liam, for seeming like he’s giving up without a fight. Or the people in his life that make him want to dismiss what’s important to him.
“Fuck, Henri,” he says, that full bottom lip of his dragging between his teeth.
“So, what do you need? Another pep talk? Space? For me to march up to your dad and tell him he can find someone else to run everything? What about Penelope and June?”
“Pen would burn this place to the ground. June has years left of her career and she loves coaching. If she wants to keep doing that here, of course I’ll support her. This is my family’s legacy, my home. I made a commitment.” He leans into my touch, breathing deeply. “Thank you, for being on my side. I know it’s what you’re here to do, but it was really nice. When you originally told me about why you did this, I thought I got it, but now I think I really do.”
“I would have done it for anyone, but I liked doing it for you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. So, when you write about me . . . ?” I ask.
“I’ll call you a devastating force and a threat to parents everywhere.”
“Don’t talk dirty to me now.”
