My breath stutters, eyes searching his for the catch, the tease, the joke that never comes. There isn’t one. His expression is raw. Honest. Wide open in a way Liam Stone never is.
So, of course, I say, “Dang. Didn’t know you liked cobblerthatmuch.”
My voice comes out light. Teasing. Like I didn’t just hear the one thing I’ve wanted from him since the day we met.
I side-step him before I can talk myself out of it, slipping past the heat of his body and heading straight for the cabinets. My hands move on autopilot as I pull out two plates and reach for the drawer with the forks.
Behind me, I can feel his eyes on me.
Watching.
Waiting.
But he doesn’t say anything.
I scoop the cobbler in neat, practiced motions. The smell should be comforting, but my chest is tight, and my hands tremble just enough that I have to slow down.
When I finally turn around and meet his gaze, the fire I saw a moment ago is gone. Extinguished. And the part of me that wanted to believe this could be more exhales in silent disappointment. I force a bright, easy smile onto my face and hold out a plate to him like a peace offering.
“So,” I say, voice chipper and thin, “how’s the fencing project going? Still battling it out with the contractors?”
Liam takes the plate, his fingers brushing mine briefly. Too brief to mean anything, too much to mean nothing.
He lets me fill the silence with chatter. Lets me pretend.
For a minute.
“It’s fine,” he says eventually, his voice mild. “They’ll come around once I remind them who owns the land.”
I nod, relief and regret tangling inside me like a knot.
We both sit down at the table, cobbler steaming between us, the soft clink of forks against porcelain the only sound.
I sneak a glance at him from under my lashes. He’s eating like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just almost change everything between us with a handful of words.
Maybe that’s for the best. It’s definitely safer this way.
I take a bite, and the sweetness bursts across my tongue, but it tastes hollow somehow.
And just when I think I’ve successfully steered us back into safe territory, Liam sets down his fork and says quietly, “You know, it wasn’t the cobbler I meant.”
I freeze mid-bite. He looks at me, steady and sure, like he needs me to hear it. To believe it. Then he picks his fork back up, like he didn’t just drop a grenade between us. And I’m left sitting there, heart pounding, the fake normalcy slipping through my fingers faster than I can catch it.
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes against the counter. The sound is jarring and too loud in the thick, stretched silence between us. Liam’s phone chimes, too, which means it’s a group message.
I glance down, grateful for the distraction, even if my hands are still trembling slightly.
Teddy Birmingham
Wanted to confirm that dinner is at 7 tomorrow. Bring your girl. Excited to finally meet her properly now that you two aren’t hiding your relationship.
My stomach drops.
I stare at the message, the words blurring for a second before they settle into brutal clarity.
Bring your girl.
I force a laugh that sounds brittle even to my own ears. “Looks like we’re officially on the clock.”
