“No, no,” Juliette tells him. “I need to talk to you, and I’m sure Winnie can find the studio on her own. In addition to being an avid animal advocate, she’s also very resourceful.”
“She’s also still here,” I add, moving to scoop Ollie up.
“Yes, you are. So, go get settled, and then we can recap our little project later on.”
“Sounds good.” I situate Ollie more comfortably in my arms and begin to make my way through the space.
“I’ll just see you out,” Liam says, crossing the room and walking ahead of me to open the door. I follow his lead and pause as we stand alone in the entryway.
“Well, it was very nice to officially meet you, Winnie. Even under the unexpected circumstances.” His disarming blue eyes shift to Ollie before panning back up to meet mine. “I hope to see you again while you’re here.”
“I’m sure we’ll see each other off and on.” I keep my tone light and am just preparing to walk away when I suddenly notice what he’s wearing. “Wait, is this the sweater your aunt got you for Christmas?”
Liam’s gaze moves from his navy pullover to me, his eyebrows scrunching together a bit. “It is. When I was younger and had family visiting, my mom always forced me to wear whatever that person had sent me. She said it was a kind gesture, and I suppose the sentiment stuck.”
That is wildly adorable, but I choose not to mention it.
“Push your shoulders back,” I say instead. He does, and I notice how the sleeves look baggy and that they’re rolled up several times at his wrist. “I can’t believe I’ve been buying you the wrong size sweaters for the past five years. Juliette swore you were an extra-large.”
“Am I to understand that you’re the one who’s been choosing my Christmas gifts for me?”
“And birthdays,” I confirm. “Did you like the singing messenger I sent you this year?”
“In truth, it was equal parts enjoyable and mortifying. I was just about to head out for dinner, and the singer insisted on performing multiple aggressive verses of ‘Happy Birthday.’ I didn’t even know ‘Happy Birthday’ had more than one verse.”
“You only turn thirty-five once. Anyways, I went through that singer’s portfolio several times online, and he exuded nothing but star power.”
“No, I agree with you there. It was just hard to fully gauge his obvious talent through the chicken suit he was wearing.”
I let out a laugh but then try to cover it up. “Yes, I forgot about that part.”
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy for me to forget. I think my ears were red for a week.”
“Aw. Do they always turn red when you’re embarrassed?”
“For the most part, yes. It has also been known to happen when I’m nervous.”
Looking up, I notice that his ears are visibly rosy at this very moment. “And why would you be nervous now?” I ask.
Liam begins to speak but stops himself, appearing almost guilty until his says, “I think it probably has something to do with you being incredibly nice to talk to and me generally not liking to talk at all. And I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing.”
Great. So he’s a shy, thoughtful, rugged redhead, and why does this entryway suddenly feel unbearably warm? I should be sprinting for the elevator, but I keep talking instead.
“I have a nervous gesture, too,” I tell him. “I’m a leg bouncer. It used to drive all my friends crazy before a performance, but they got used to it. Now they like to tap my knee for good luck.”
We both slowly glance down, watching as my right leg bounces nonstop. It’s not as noticeable as it would be if I was sitting, but it’s still very much there.
Liam says nothing, only continues to look at me, and I feel like it’s better that way. Both of us have the smallest smirks on our faces as I turn on the spot and start towards the elevator.
“I’ll see you around, Liam,” I call over my shoulder. I’m a few steps away and still basking in just how smooth my parting line was when Ollie promptly farts in my arms. It’s loud and it smells putrid, filling the hallway like a professional grade stink bomb. I don’t turn back, but I can hear Liam laughing quietly behind me as I then forgo the elevator and head for the stairwell instead.
Well, coolest and smoothest exit of my life, we had a good run. Goodbye forever.
4
When I get down to the studio, it’s nothing like what I expected. Whereas the penthouse upstairs is crisp and cool, this apartment looks and feels like a cozy jewel box. A large desk is set off to the side, books are stacked every which way on a wall-to-wall windowsill, and an antique bed that’s covered with a bright patchwork quilt is tucked diagonally into the corner. I place Ollie down, and he walks the perimeter, sniffing everything. I do the same, minus the sniffing.
There’s a small kitchenette along the side, and an old teapot still sits on the outdated stove. Varying teacups dangle from hooks off a hanging wood shelf above the sink, and I touch each of them with the tip of my index finger. I then move to a thin bookshelf in the far corner, quickly skimming through the titles. Playwright autobiographies, romances, Shakespeare—the gang’s all here.
