Even with all that time stretching out in front of me, I can’t fathom sitting down with a notepad anytime soon and coming up with words that aren’t plastic. I’ve been stuck in this rut, which I didn’t even know until todaywasa rut, for so long that I don’t know how to get out of it. Unless I meet a soul-altering love interest that magically taps my brain, and if the past four years are anything to go by, I’m not holding my breath.
“Everything aside,” I whisper, “it was good to see you.”
Liam says nothing back, just keeps staring at me like he’s hunting around in my expression for the code to parse my thoughts.
I turn for the door handle.
“Wait.”
My heart flutter kicks as I look at him. Liam scrubs a hand over his face.
“Wait,” he says again, even though I’m perfectly still.
I blink up at him patiently, and Liam takes a measured step in my direction.
His gaze coasts over my face with luxurious overindulgence. A very specific greed. My breath hitches when his fingers catchon mine, and both our heads snap down to the small place we’ve touched. Like we’re equally startled.
I try to calm my exhales while Liam links more of our fingers, brings our hands toward his face. His breath is warm against the inside of my wrist. His eyes flick to mine and his lips part, just before he sets my wrist against his mouth.
My eyelids grow heavy. His fall closed.
“I have missed you in ways I can’t begin to explain,” he mumbles into my skin.
I nod my agreement, momentarily inarticulate, but Liam isn’t looking for a response anyway. After only two more seconds, he releases my hand as if scalded, as if that simple touch were nothing but torture. I clutch it in my other. May as well have been dipped in gold.
“I have conditions.” He clears his throat, resettles his posture.
“Liam,” I gulp. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore. I should’ve considered you’d have equal feelings in this. The last thing I want isyougetting hurt.”
“Yes, well, some of my conditions prevent that outcome, but we’ll get to those later. First things first. I want to hear the song.”
“The… song?” I ask, playing dumb.
“I hear it’s the best thing you’ve ever written,” he says.
I stall. Stall some more.
“Have you changed your mind?” Liam asks innocently.
“No.”
Molten eyes. “Then play me the song, Paige.”
Playing this song for him will be like reopening the wound of our old fight. But I know that I have to. I knew it as soon as I mentioned it to him.
I grab for my phone, riffle through my recordings until I find the right one.
While he listens to it, I face the other direction, leaning against the brick wall by the door and blushing head to toe from theunbearable humiliation of the betrayal in my voice, in the lyrics. When it’s over, I turn back to find Liam glaring violently toward the bushes.
“Say something,” I whisper.
He shrugs, rubbing his lips together. “It’s a good song. A little one-sided, narratively, but what do I know?”
He has a point, with lyrics likeyou begged for my trust just to break it. But maybe it could be a better song with another singer, another set of lyrics from a different point of view. A duet.
“Do you work in the morning?” Liam asks.
“Not until four.”
