Her fingers fidget with the hem of her shirt as it hangs just over her hips.
“Hey.” She stands there in the doorway, her phone in one hand and her other holding the door.
“We haven’t talked in a couple of days, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m okay,” she says, eyes darting around. “I know I look rough. I’m not sleeping great.”
“You look perfect. But I’m also not sleeping great,” I reply in a low voice.
“I—” she begins.
“We—” I say at the same time.
“Oh,” we both say together then laugh.
“Go ahead,” I say.
“I’m sorry. I’m just all over the place right now. And I—there’s a lot to think about when it comes to us, Liam. I wasn’t expecting to be in this situation.”
I nod, trying to understand where she’s coming from. She’s done this before. She said those words to someone and it ended horribly. But god, I’m not him and I just want to show her all theways I want to love her—ways I can love her that will show her what real love actually is.
“My job—I worked hard for respect in this field and I’m kind of caught between conflicting feelings right now. There’s this promotion on the table and I can’t risk—I just need to sort things out.” She pulls the door closer to her, almost like she’s ready to close it.
“I can give you space, Dem.” Words I don’t want to say, but I can tell she isn’t looking for company tonight. I can’t be selfish right now, even if I want to be. No one questioned her working in sports when she was married to a basketball player, because she didn’t cover him directly. But I know the promotion she’s speaking of—she mentioned it on our coffee date. It’s big and it’s important to her. I can’t be the reason she doesn’t get it.
All of this gets me thinking, but my train of thought is interrupted when she finally breaks the silence.
“Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” I turn my head toward the hallway. I’m not annoyed at her. I’m annoyed that she’s so conditioned to think she needs to apologize to me for expressing herself.
“I’ll text you,” she says, forcing a smile.
“Great.”
Her door closes, and I turn away slowly. That didn’t go how I’d hoped, but she answered and she spoke to me. And I’m okay with giving her space—hell, I’m really fucking good at giving Demi space. I’ve been practicing for five years.
The moment I close my laptop after finishing a therapy session, there’s a knock on my door. But it’s one, then two more quick knocks, followed by another single one. Liam’s signature knock.
I spent the last hour crying on and off to my therapist about Liam. After talking with my mom the other night, it got me thinking and spiraling. Because as much as I thought I loved Brandon, I’m realizing I may love Liam even more. And that’s not something I was expecting. Or something I feel equipped to handle right now. It’s taken me two days to even get comfortable saying that might be the case.
You’re not supposed to fall in love with the next guy you meet after divorce, right? You’re supposed to have a fun stage, a wild stage, athis will show himera, right? How’d I skip all of that and fall right intolove? I shake my head out of the thoughts and walk toward the door.
Liam looks ridiculously handsome as I pull the door open. I’m afraid to open it too much because I might not be strong enough to close it with him on the other side if I do. And Ineedto allow myself the space to figure this out. To weigh everything potentially at stake and make sure I’m doing the right thing. Because I thought I was doing the right thing once before, and I was humiliated.
His dark hair is tousled—I can only imagine from his hands raking through it. He’s staring at me like he’s desperately trying to read my mind, and I’m putting every ounce of a poker face I can into keeping my eyes unreadable.
I typed a reply no less than seven times to his text from earlier. Somehow unable to answer the question of “how are you?”
But it rolls off his lips again as he stands outside my door, and I feel my insides nearly melt at the sound of his voice. It’s velvet. It’s calming. It’s like my favorite song that I haven’t heard in days finally being played on the radio and I want to turn up the volume and close my eyes, smiling as I listen to it.
When he admits he hasn’t been sleeping great, there’s a pit that forms in my stomach. I feel guilty over any pain I’m causing him. But I’m also trying to do what’s best for me. I promised myself. I promised I’d do that. And right now I just need a little more time to sort this out.
Our conversation is short and I hate that I believe him when he says he’ll give me space—there’s a look in his eyes telling me he’s no stranger to it. But I believe Liam, I’ve always believed Liam.
At least I know I’m buying myself a couple more days since he’s leaving tomorrow for an away game, and I’ll be here, with all my thoughts and emotions to sort through so I can woman up and say exactly what I want.
GIRLS ONLY
