“No one needs me.” He stares at his phone and then holds down the side button, completely powering it off. “It’s the guys in the group chat discussing my life against my will.” He chuckles. “I may have given them some fuel to work with and they’re having an entire conversation about it. But the ones I’m actively avoiding are my dad’s. His messages aren’t important right now, or ever really. But especially tonight. I don’t want to be bothered by him.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling a little silly for the jealous bone that poked out a little. I have no right to feel that way. No claim to him or whatever this is.
“Did you think another woman was texting me or something?”
“Or something.” I shrug, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“Dem,” he says, reaching for my hand, and I let him take my fingers into his. “I haven’t texted a woman in over a year, except for my friends’ wives or girlfriend. You’re the first woman I’ve hung out with in a long time. I don’t know how much clearer I can be when I tell you I’m all in on whatever this is. I’m happy to remind you every day if you need it—it won’t bother me. But please know that it’s you. It’s onlyyou.”
It’s weird that I believe him. He makes me question everything I thought I knew and thought I wanted after my divorce.
I nod, feeling his fingers lace through mine as we stand facing one another in his kitchen. The light above the stove is on, giving an almost somber glow to the evening. His thumb makes circles on the back of my hand, and I look at our hands together. The sheer size of his cover mine so seamlessly.
“So…” I smile, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve seen a lot of interviews you’ve done when they’ve asked if you have someone special in your life. You know, any of those incredibly personal and—quite frankly, inappropriate—questions, and?—”
Before I can continue, he cuts me off.
“You.” He takes a step closer to me and his grip on my hand tightens slightly, but it’s still gentle.
“Me what?”
“I was always talking about you. They’re all about you.”
When Liam stares at me the way he’s staring right now, it could make my heart skip a beat. I feel so confident that every piece of me—the broken, battered, and bruised—would be unconditionally cared for with him. And I’ve never been that certain about anyone—even the man I married.
“What?”
“I mean, yeah, I didn’t actually have you.” He laughs, taking a step back, but his hand still wraps around mine, not letting go. “But I’d say it with you in mind.”
I can’t believe all these years, all those interviews and times I’ve seen him talk about a woman—he meantme. There has to be something to be said about a man who holds out hope for five years, right?
He jerks his head toward the living room and leads me to the couch, where I take a seat. There’s a beige blanket on the corner that he hands me as I get settled before he grabs my drink from the kitchen island and brings it to the coffee table.
To my surprise, the puzzle looks like it’s still in good shape, exactly as we left it. Consider my faith in Birdie restored.
“I—I don’t know what to say to that,” I admit.
“Is that weird?” He takes a seat on the couch near me and runs a hand through his hair. I watch as it falls back in place.
“It’s…” I pause, shaking my head. “It isn’t weird. I guess I’m just so taken aback by it. I mean, truthfully, Liam, I’m not naïve.”I chuckle. “I’ve known, you know, about your crush or whatever you want to call it for a while, but I guess I never thought it was anything more than that. Certainly not as sincere as it apparently is.”
“Well, you were married, Dem. Despite how it may seem to someone who doesn’t know me, I am a respectful guy.”
He’s nothing like the picture I had painted of him in my mind. Emotionally, intellectually—it’s almost enough to make me drop every wall and guard I have.
“Well, you’re more respectful than he was,” I mutter softly.
Liam’s bicep flexes when he moves his arm to drape it over the back of the couch. I catch his eyes lingering on my lips and I allow myself to mirror him.
“If you ever want to talk about anything, you know you can, right? I mean, I fucking hate him, but if you need to vent, or whatever…” His hands tap his chest. “This is a safe space. It’s just you and me.”
“Just you and me.” I repeat the words he said when I opened up about Brianna too. And I believe it. I feel it. “I guess I like the sound of that.”
“Of you and me?” he asks, eyes flickering with hope.
I nod slowly, biting the inside of my cheek.
He reaches his hand out to me, and I bring my fingers up to his as he takes them and presses the softest kiss to my knuckles. My eyes watch the entire thing, my inhale hitching at the warmth of his breath against my skin.
