“Yeah, but…I might. That’s life. But I’d rather risk something real than stay safe and miss it. Love isn’t something you can control—I know, because I’ve tried. That’s how I know this is different. I don’t want to control it. I just don’t want to miss it. I want all of her—exactly as she is.”
Kelcy gives a quiet laugh. “Wow. I’ve never heard you say it like that.”
I smile faintly, letting out a breath. “I appreciate you looking out for me. I always will. But you’ve got to trust me on this one, okay? You need to back off and let me figure out my own life.”
“Fair enough,” she says, her voice warm with reluctant approval.
“Your baby brother’s growing up.”
“Okay,” my sister shifts the phone in her hand, “what’s next?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to see her tonight before I leave for DC early tomorrow morning to meet with Senator Langford, but maybe I can fly straight back to San Francisco this weekend.”
“Okay, but…give her a little space. You’ve convinced me this might be different, but you can still be a lot sometimes.”
“I’m hanging up now,” I say with an eye roll. “Kiss my nephews.”
An hour later, I’m heading to Eli’s apartment when I pause at Liv’s door. I consider knocking or leaving a note to let her know I’m thinking of her. But my sister’s right. Liv’s in the middle of a huge launch, and I’ve already distracted her enough this weekend, plus I only have one day left with Eli before I have to leave. I can go eight hours without seeing her.
“Hey!” the guy from the other day calls out as I hit the second-floor landing. He’s stepping out of his apartment with another man, taller than both of us. “You’re friends with Liv, right? And Eli?” He offers a handshake. “I’m Cal.” He reminds me and gestures to the guy beside him. “This is my buddy, Liam.” Then back to me. “Owen, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” I say, shaking Cal’s hand and turning to his friend. “Nice to meet you.”
Cal is tall, but Liam is huge. His shoulders are almost wider than the doorway.
“You too, man,” Liam says, returning my handshake. “Do you live in the building?”
“No,” I say, but an image flashes—waking up next to Liv every morning, making her coffee, curling up to watch a movie at night. Sharing little wins, venting about our rough days. I shake my head, trying to push away the echo of my sister’s voice:You move too fast.“Just visiting friends,” I add.
“Liam is going to be staying in my apartment for the next couple of weeks,” Cal explains, pushing the button on the keypad.
“Then I’m sure I’ll see you in the building,” I say. “I visit a lot.”And hopefully more, I think.
Chapter 15
Liv
“Are we toasting launch success or drowning boy sorrows?” Andy asks, holding up her very fruity cocktail. I had texted her to meet me at Bar None at six sharp. I didn’t want to be home.
“Both…neither,” I say, shooting my bourbon like a shot of cheap tequila and placing it back on the bar, signaling for Frankie to fill it up.
“Okaaayy.” Andy takes a sip of her pink drink. She plucks the orange wedge from the rim and sucks it between her teeth, watching me from the corner of her eye—but she doesn’t push. She’s good like that.
“Oh! I met the recluse yesterday,” she says, popping one of the maraschino cherries into her mouth. “Strangely hot for a weirdo.”
“I think his name is Eli,” I say, sipping my second glass of bourbon with a little more decorum. I’m not sure if Eli wants people to know his alter ego, so I keep it at that.
“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “He walked down the stairs right as I opened our door. I said ‘hi,’ and he came over, held out his hand, and said, ‘I’m Eli. It’s a nice day out.’ Then he turned around, muttered—I swear Liv—‘Fuck, that wasn’t ten words,’ and walked straight out of the building like he was trying to get away from me.”
I huff out a pathetic laugh. “Owen said he’s a little socially awkward.” Saying Owen’s name makes my heart pinch. I take another long sip of my drink.
“Yeah, I think I scared him,” Andy says, shrugging her shoulders. “He had that whole tortured genius look going on. I was low-key into it. I might end up on his doorstep one of these days, like a lost puppy.”
I stare into my drink. I can’t respond to her antics at the moment.
She taps her nails against her glass, eyeing me with a mix of amusement and concern. “Sooo,” she says slowly, “how was your date last night…and should I mention you’re wearing last night’s jeans?” She tries to sound casual, but I see it in her eyes—she’s clocked the bourbon, the mood, and she’s doing the math.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, tipping my glass to my mouth again.
