Liam: YES
I’m giggling again.
Me: We’re meeting up tomorrow night to plan wedding stuff, I’ll show you a poem that’s gonna make you blush. Hard.
Liam: Wait, why can’t you send it to me now?
Me: Because I wanna see your face when you read it.
Liam: Fair enough. Can’t wait :)
My tummy flips. I can’t wait to see the look on Liam’s face.
Chapter 13
Kendall
“Okay. We figured out the venue and the menu for the rehearsal dinner. Now show me that dirty poem.”
I almost spit up the sip of beer, I’m laughing so hard.
“Wow. Someone’s impatient.” I glance over at Liam, who’s standing on the other side of the kitchen island.
“I had to listen to the bartender of that restaurant go on and on for thirty minutes about ten different types of vodka. Hell yeah, I’m impatient,” Liam says as he cracks open a fresh beer.
I laugh while I pull up the poem on his laptop. “Oh, come on. Moscow mules are Aidan’s favorite cocktail. The bartender just wanted to make sure everything is perfect for the rehearsal dinner.”
Liam makes an annoyed grumbling sound before sipping his beer, but I can tell by the teasing look in his blue eyes he’s just playing around.
I pull up “I Love You” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on the laptop screen as Liam walks over to stand next to me.
I turn the laptop to him. He sets his drink aside and leans down, bracing his massive hands on either side of the counter.
I watch as his eyes scan the opening lines of the poem. A few seconds later, his brow hits his hairline. I bite back a smile.
I’ve read this poem a million times. It’s one of my favorite poems ever. I could recite in my sleep. So to see Liam read this poem for the first time is kind of thrilling. It’s like I get to experience it for first time in a new way.
“Whoa…” he murmurs after another few seconds.
I watch his eyes dilate as he reads the lines describing how much the poet desires her lover’s lips, and eyes and hair, how she loves seeing the passion burning bright in his stare, how she loves the feel of his body. How she craves his kiss and his embrace. How she feels a soul-shattering connection with him that transcends time. How she aches to spend her life with him.
After a minute, Liam blinks. He straightens up, his expression dazed. His neck is flushed. So are his stubbled cheeks.
He runs a hand through his messy, wavy hair and looks at me. The corner of his mouth quirks up.
“Well, fuck. That’s hot.”
I can’t help the giddy smile that pulls at my lips. “Isn’t it?”
He leans down again and squints at the laptop screen. “When did she write this?”
“The late-eighteen hundreds.”
He blinks at the screen. “Damn, Ella. You were a freak.”
I burst out laughing. I have to hold onto the edge of the kitchen island so I don’t fall down. Above me, I hear the low rumble of Liam’s chuckle.
I stand up and wipe my eyes. “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard anyone call Ella Wheeler Wilcox a freak before.”
