Something to keep me from dialing his number at midnight like some lovesick idiot.
I pull on a barely-there black dress and knee-high boots, add a few gold necklaces, a touch of lipstick, and mascara. Nothing over the top, just enough to look like I made an effort.
When I step into the living room, Talia’s already in the kitchen, curls piled into a messy bun, showing her little lotus tattoo at the back of her neck.
She’s holding a bottle of wine, and when she turns around, I let out a whistle of approval at her shimmery and sexy purple dress against her freckled skin.
“Damn, Tal,” I say with a grin. “That dress is dangerous. You trying to cause trouble tonight?”
“I hope so,” she says. “I need a good, hard railing from someone with serious big dick energy.”
“Well, that was...graphic,” I say. “But you go, girl.”
“Let me see you,” Talia says, stepping out from behind the kitchen island. She gives me a once-over, then grins wildly. “Oh, hell yes. Spin around.”
I roll my eyes but do it anyway, and she lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Em. We clean upgood!”
We high-five, laughing, and turn up the music.
Within minutes, we’re dancing around the apartment like two tipsy teenagers, finishing off the bottle of wine and pretending life isn’t complicated.
I only check my phone, like, every ten minutes, and I think I’m doing pretty good until Talia snatches it away and says, “Stop looking at your fucking phone. They will contact you if they need you.”
I give her a shaky smile and a rueful shrug. “Sorry.”
She shakes her head. “It’s whatever. Just don’t let it ruin your night.”
We graban Uber to the club, and it’s packed.
The music thumping, lights flashing, so we each down a shot and then head out to the dance floor, where a couple of Talia’s work friends join us.
A little while later, I get a text with pictures of the boys, all grinning like maniacs before bed. Laddie’s smile is huge, his eyes bright and happy. Then another one with them in their sleeping bags, asleep.
They’re fine. He’s fine.
I heart the photos and put my phone away.
After that, I finally let myself loosen up.
I accept another drink from my sister, the fun enforcer, and then another. And then I’m lost in the music, eyes closed, swaying my body in a way I haven’t in a very, very long time.
When warm, solid hands settle lightly on my waist, I don’t pull away.
I don’t even open my eyes. Instead, I imagine it’s Liam.
The man is respectful. He doesn’t shove himself on me, doesn’t come too close. I’m grateful for that, because I realize I don’t want it to be anyone other than Liam Callaghan.
Wow. That’s depressing. And maybe a little pathetic.
I’m about to step away when curiosity gets the better of me. I open my eyes.
And the world slams to a halt.
I freeze.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
Because itisLiam.
