Page 18 of Mommy

“Didn’t you wear those same clothes yesterday?”

The grin that’s taking up residence in Liam’s eyes is dazzling with charm. I wish I would’ve never seen it.

Groaning, I hide my face in the crook of my way to large hoodie.

It smells of fresh laundry. Clean linen and lavender.

Because Derek washed it while you were passed out in his bed.

Oh, sweet hell.

I still don’t know how that even happened.

And I don’t know what would be worse. Liam thinking I had sex with someone, or having to tell him I didn’t have sex because I was so exhausted I fell asleep.

Definitely the second.

I’d rather have him think I had a one-nightstand than admit to him that I was too tired to even make it to the bedroom on my own two feet.

Liam is still standing right behind me laughing when I let the arm sink back to my side.

From the front door I can hear voices coming down the hallway. The first visitors of the day.

“You should put this in the fridge,” he suggests with a grin and hands me back my lunch.

Looks like I will have to wait until after visiting hours to have a moment of peace with Viv. I pet her through the bars with my fingertips.

“Don’t forget to be yourself.” I murmur down to her, smiling back when her mouth splits into the largest bully grin.

Thankfully, Liam doesn’t follow me into the break room, where—for the first time ever—I’m putting something into the staff fridge.

There are already two boxes in there, undoubtedly Liam and Shelly’s. They are about half the size of that ginormous meal Derek forced on me. I almost feel bad at how much space it’s taking up in the small fridge.

My guilty conscience only grows when I see that no one has made coffee yet. Usually it’s the first thing we do in the morning, but apparently no one had time for it today.

Probably because you were busy eating an Omlet instead of helping here.

Starting the coffee machine, I listen to the gurgling and dripping while I shrug off my bag and place it on one of the stools.

I routinely wash my hands before preparing two cups of coffee for Liam and Shelly and one cup of tea for myself.

Liam likes his with milk, Shelly drinks hers black with sugar.

Balancing the three drinks with the handles, I carry them outside and hunt down my colleagues. It’s the least I can do with how I let them down this morning.

Finding Shelly and Liam both at the front desk, I place their cups on the counter with a small smile. The people that came in earlier are probably already walking past the kennels.

“I’m sorry I was late.” I murmur quietly.

Looking up from her work, Shelly grabs the cup with a little laugh.

“Ivy, dear, there’s no need to apologize,” she says, lifting the cup to her nose and inhaling deeply.

Liam follows her example, blowing into the steam that trails the air from his coffee.

“You know, actually I’m a little relieved you were late for once.” He says grinning. “Makes me feel a little better about being late all the time.”

It’s true. Liam comes in late a lot, but somehow he can pull it off. It’s like with a life as busy and successful as his, I’m just impressed that he shows up at all. Modelling and helping out in an animal shelter? It doesn’t matter if he is late. It’s different when I’m late. It’s not like I have any other responsibilities.