Rosa shrugged, and her silence said everything. Len Mallaney’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis six months ago had rocked what was left of their close-knit family, and his slow descent into dementia was breaking their hearts all over again. “It won’t be long now. He can’t stay in the cottage forever.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“But how will we know, Liam? What if something happens and—”
“Rosa.” Liam cut her off before she could take them down a path of tragic speculation he didn’t have the energy for. “We’ll know, I promise. We’ll know.”
It seemed to be enough for her, for now. They ate Rosa’s lasagne in a companionable silence while Liam tried to figure out a way to keep his word on being less of a hermit without subjecting himself to the meat market of online dating.
“You want me to meet you in London?” Zac sat up in bed and pressed his free hand over his speeding heart. He’d been waiting on this elusive call for nearly a fortnight. “And stay with you all night?”
There was a protracted pause before Liam answered, “If you like. I’m going to be there anyway, and I could do with the, er, company.”
Company. That was a new word for it, if Liam was planning the same activity they’d practiced last time. “Whereabouts in London do you want me to come?”
“Farringdon.”
Zac swallowed. Farringdon was closer to King’s Cross than he wanted to be ever again. In fact, unless he took the world’s most ridiculous detour, he’d have to pass through it to even reach Farringdon. So? King’s Cross is central to everywhere. Are you going to avoid the whole of London for the rest of your life? Zac had half a mind to do just that if he could, but the stubborn edge to his heart, the pigheadedness that had given him the strength to leave the city—and the smack—behind in the first place, wouldn’t let it happen. Besides, he couldn’t deny how intrigued he was by Liam’s vague invitation. “If you want me to come to London and stay the night, it’s going to be expensive, and that’s without, um, entertainment.”
Liam chuckled. “I’d figured as much, but trust me, whatever price you name will be nothing compared to the crap I’ll have to put up with every moment I’m not with you.”
“Are you visiting your in-laws?” Zac caught his slip too late, but Liam didn’t miss a beat.
“Nope. Worse. I’m working, which means being stuck in bullshit meetings all day long. I’ll be climbing the walls by the time you get there, if I haven’t killed anyone by then.”
“How long do you reckon you’ll hold out for?”
“I’ll be home by eight.”
“You want me to come to your house?”
“It’s a flat, actually, but yeah, if you’re cool with that. If not, we could go to a hotel?”
“No, no . . . your place is fine. What’s the address?”
Liam recited a Farringdon address. “Listen,” he said as Zac wrote it down. “I don’t know how you usually do shit like this, but if at any time you’re not happy, or comfortable with me, you’re free to go. Seriously, take the money and go.”
Zac swung his legs out of bed and ran his fingers through his hair. What was it about this bloke that made him hot all over when they were talking about something completely benign? “I doubt you could ever make me uncomfortable. You’re the easiest john I’ve ever had.”
“Easy?”
“As in, um, nicest, even when we got nasty.” The glow that had ignited in Zac’s belly when he’d first heard Liam’s deep voice down the phone suddenly got brighter. Blood flooded his cheeks. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean, mate, though part of me managed to convince myself I’d dreamt all that.”
“Was it that bad?”
“Only the good kind of bad.”
Liam’s cryptic answer made perfect sense. Zac grinned, and the heat in his veins spread to his dick. “What did you have in mind for next week? More of the same?”
“Maybe . . . Shit, hang on a sec.” The line went quiet. Then Zac heard muffled voices and perhaps a door slamming before Liam came back. “I’ve gotta go. Um, this is my number. Call or text me if anything changes. If not, I’ll see you Thursday?”
“Thursday,” Zac said. “You’ll be paying cash again, right?”
“Right. Don’t worry about that, Zac. I’ll have whatever you need.”
Zac pondered the common sense of a man who’d tell a hooker he’d only met once that he’d have piles of cash at his home on a particular night, but then he pictured Liam and the steely stare that belied the flecked warmth in his gaze, and figured perhaps he wasn’t a bloke to be messed with. Zac had come across men like that before.
