“Ah yes, but we also had, in the other, a willing partner. This is not always the case.”
That’s the crux of it, isn’t it?
A willing partner.
15
spare wood
Lorien
A knock on the front door wakes me.
Confusion swirls around. Who could be here? I only need one guess. The peephole confirms it’s my neighbor.
I wipe the drool from my face and pull open the door.
Liam stalks in, carrying a reusable nylon bag in one hand and a drill in the other. And he’s scowling.
What did I do now?
Dr. Patel and I spoke a few moments longer after he rocked my tidy expectations of selfishness. Eventually, I set my phone on the sofa, and I must’ve passed out.
“Are you still angry with me?” I blink several times as the bright summer day streams in past him. “We’re stuck. I get it, but I didn’t think you’d take my insecurities out on me.”
“Explain.”
Oh, goody. We’re doing the thing where I’m supposed to lay myself bare and the man with the emotional range of a teaspoon gets to stay aloof. My cup overfloweth.
“Look. We have two choices as far as I can tell. We can actively avoid each other, and you can stay”—I gesture to his form—“broody and angry. Or we can spend the time we’re together being… Well, I don’t know. But your family thinks you’re amazing. You’re funnier than you let on, and you can cook. I’m goofy and silly. I can’t dance at all, but I still try. And I can bake. Together, we have it all.”
His eyes are comically wide. He tucks his lips behind his teeth and tilts his head like he’s trying to figure me out. “That answers something, but not the question I asked.”
“See,” I extend a hand as I put the other one on my hip. “You didn’t ask a question. And I was trying to be nice. But you’re not trying back.”
His beard twitches, and his eyes crease at the corners. “Why did you think I took your insecurities out on you?” He says each word slowly like I’m dense.
“That right there.” I point. “I can’t handle being put down or you treating me like I’m dumb. It’s a thing.”
“You’re not dumb. That’s not remotely in consideration.”
“Oh,” I sigh and sit on my sofa, extending a hand for him to do the same. When he does, I ask, “Is there something like that I should know about you?”
“Not yet. But please”—he grits his teeth as if that word was hard for him to enunciate—“answer my question.”
“Well,” I say, drawing a pattern in the fabric of the sofa and releasing a large exhale. “I think you…” I stall before rushing out the words. “Fine. You’re the complete package and I think the world”—I gesture around my living room as if it holds the entirety of the universe—“will wonder what it is that you see in me. What would someone like you be doing with someone like me? I mean, I’m not chopped liver or anything, but?—”
A thick finger presses against my lips. “Don’t finish that sentence. Please.” His voice is gravelly and gruff. He blinks his eyes closed, stopping all access I have to his emotions. “I understand. Thank you.”
“Good.” I form the word around his finger and am gifted with something I’ve only seen once and only then in profile.
Liam Murphy smiles.
Liam
It is not lost on me that Lorien Anderson is staring at me through the curtain of that jet black hair, her eyes looking up at me. Fuck me.
It almost makes up for leaving the brownies at my house. Don’t think I didn’t notice that Ayla and Cian left before having to eat them.
