“My walk with Ollie went better than expected. I felt very safe in the knowledge that he would lovingly nibble on the shoes of any assailant that dared cross our path.”
I look over adoringly at my savage guard dog, who’s now sleeping on his back, legs in the air, as he lies in the direct center of the pillows. I turn back to Liam with a smile.
“He’s a lover, not a fighter.”
“Yes, I can tell. He tried to have his wicked way with my leg again when we waited at a crosswalk, but then thought the better of it when another bloke stopped beside us. Apparently, his calf was more appealing than mine.”
“Blasphemy. Your calves are without rival.”
Liam grins and closes his computer all the way, then sets it down on the makeshift coffee table that he’s erected from two piles of books and an ironing board. “Well, seeing as you’ve finished your work for the evening, we can now partake in the promised snacks. How do you feel about milkshakes?”
My heart almost stops at the suggestion. “Um, I feel fantastic about them.”
“Excellent. I don’t have too many talents to boast of, but milkshake making is a particularly large feather in my cap.”
“Boast away, my friend. Milkshakes are arguably the best dessert in the world.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more. Now, prepare to be amazed.”
At that, he springs up from the couch and heads for the kitchen. It’s clear I’m not the only one who’s pumped about this. I get up and follow after him, standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island until I settle onto the lone bar stool. Liam takes out a carton of ice cream, chocolate syrup, and a gallon of milk from the fridge and freezer. He then reaches up to the top shelf of one of his cabinets and pulls down what looks like an industrial-grade blender.
He begins scooping out vanilla ice cream into the blender, and I lean down slightly onto the freshly scrubbed counter. “Dare I ask where you learned to make these?”
“When I was a teenager, I worked in an ice-cream shop every summer for four years. I could make these blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back.”
“Milkshakes and soft-core bondage? Stop talking dirty to me.”
Liam shakes his head with a sly smile and continues on in his endeavor. “Do you always say the first thing that pops into your head?”
“Not in a work environment. I probably don’t speak my mind enough in professional situations, so I overcompensate for it in my private life.”
“There are worse ways of coping.” Liam reaches into the cabinet once again, this time pulling out a measuring cup and pouring in the milk until it hits a specific line. “And now,” he says, pouring in another drop until he has the measurements just right, “tell me something about yourself that I don’t know. Something that, in different circumstances, I would learn over time, but since you’re leaving, I’ll never get the chance.”
I’m oddly pleased by his question while also being momentarily gutted. He’s right. There’s so much of me that he’ll never know because of our limitations—both with time and distance. Pushing the depressing aspects of the question aside, I choose to focus on my response.
“Something you would learn for yourself,” I muse. “Oh, I know! I love Halloween.”
“Well, that’s...nice,” Liam answers. “Though, to be perfectly honest, given your usual outlandish responses to questions, I expected something a little more...you.”
I have to smile at that.
“No, I mean Ireallylike Halloween. And I don’t mean that in a ‘I wear some cat ears with a cute little tail and a black dress’ kind of way. I’m talking a full costume that’s planned out at least a month in advance. No obvious choices. Something somewhat obscure and definitely weird and that will either spark personal joy for me or will make other people laugh.”
“Dare I request examples?” Liam asks nervously.
“You may one hundred percent request examples.” I immediately scurry away from the counter and cross the room to my computer bag beside the desk, pull out my phone, and power walk back into the kitchen. I move to Liam’s side and open it to my pictures section, scrolling through until I hit October.
“Dear lord.” Liam winces, squinting his eyes and looking more closely at the image I’m proudly displaying. “What is that with you? Is it alive?”
“I wish. It’s just a highly realistic prop. I attached it to the basket and strapped the handlebars to backpack slings that I hid under my jacket.”
“That is incredibly elaborate.”
“Yet not my most elaborate costume to date.”
“How long did it take you to put that together?”
“Just a few weeks,” I answer. “I have a friend who designs costumes on the side, so he helped me with most of it.”
