CHAPTER 6
LIAM
I sleep into the early afternoon and wake to a growling stomach and a need to back off from Cerys before my overactive imagination causes problems. This includes getting out of the house, so I head downstairs to grab a bite to eat before I embark on the Christmas shopping I’m dreading.
Cerys sits alone at the kitchen table, back to me. I ignore her and rummage around in the fridge for something to eat. There’s leftover shepherd’s pie from last night and my mouth waters at the thought of Mum’s home cooking. Flipping the lid on the plastic container, I shove it into the microwave, catching sight of Cerys as I walk around the table.
Oh shit, she’s crying. Again.
“You okay?” I ask, hoping she says ‘yes’.
“No.”
Ah. Crap. “Anything I can do?”
“No.” This is followed by face crumpling. I don’t want to deal with this, but her red eyes and tear-streaked face pull at a hurt of my own. More than that, I don’t want Cerys to be sad.
“Did something happen?” I ask.
“I’m living with someone else’s family, ruining their Christmas, and I have nowhere else to go.”
“You’re not ruining anyone’s Christmas!” I pull a chair out and sit opposite her. “Mum wouldn’t ask you to stay if she thought that.”
“She just felt sorry for me after Craig kicked me out.”
“Craig? Is he your other half?”
Cerys studies the table intently. “Ella’s dad. Yeah.”
“But how can he kick you out of your own home?”
She wipes her face with the heel of her palm and sniffs. “Easy. He did.”
“Why though? Why would he do that? Can’t you go home and tell him to get the f-uck out instead?”
“I told Craig I wasn’t happy in our relationship and he lost it. He told me to leave and took my keys. I can’t even get in the house anymore.”
“What the f-uck? He made his four year old daughter homeless?”
“He doesn’t care about her anyway...” Cerys heaves in a breath and the sobbing starts again. “She wants to see him for Christmas.” She pushes her phone across the table. “I just tried reasoning with him, waste of f-ucking time.”
I arch an eyebrow at her language but my heart hurts, for Cerys and for her little girl. She doesn’t deserve this. Some f-ucking dad, he is.
“So I’m homeless, jobless, and I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to do. My parents won’t help; they said I brought all this on myself by getting pregnant in the first place and that I need to sort out my own mess.”
Her over-sharing shocks me even more and as her tears continue to flow, my anger at how someone can treat Cerys like this grows. I want to help her. How? I don’t know but the little girl watching TV in the other room needs someone to sort this out.
The microwave beeps but I ignore my meal. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”
She sniffs. “Christmas miracle?” she says then laughs softly before carefully wiping her face with a tissue. “Actually, can you run me into town. I can get the bus though, it’s no problem.”
For the first time since I came into the kitchen, she looks at me. Behind her smile is the lost look of someone who doesn’t know where to turn or what to do. Would other people cope the way Cerys does? I had no idea the situation was so bad, the depth of their problems hidden from me by Cerys’s determination that life goes on for her daughter.
My plan to avoid her today has flipped. Anything I can do to help her, I will. “Of course, I was going out anyway. Christmas shopping.”
I grimace and Cerys smiles, but not with her eyes.
****
How the hell I expected to find Christmas gifts in town, I have no idea. After a failed attempt at Christmas shopping, I hang around for Cerys despite her protests she can take the bus and I shouldn’t wait.
The journey home is silent apart from Ella singing something about snowmen. One line. Repeatedly. Thank f-uck the journey is short. Maybe taxi service is something I’ll cross off my list of ‘things I can do to help’.
We arrive outside Mum and Dad’s and I park in the driveway.
“Thank you, Liam,” says Cerys, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“All good.” I want to ask if she got sorted whatever she went into town for, but I’m unsure about overstepping boundaries.
Cerys climbs out and walks to the back of the car. I look over my shoulder at Ella, who dozes in her car seat, sipper cup of juice in hand and mouth open.
“Do you want me to carry Ella in?” I ask Cerys as she leans into the car.
“I can manage.”
I climb out and stride around to Cerys. “Don’t get pissed off with me, I’m not suggesting you’re incapable; but do you want me to carry Ella into the house?”
Cerys pauses. “As long as you don’t drop her.”
I’m on the verge of retorting when I spot a small tug of a smile on Cerys’s face. I shake my head and she steps to one side.
Extricating the girl from her car seat is harder than I imagine and once I do, I’m unsure how to hold her. “Shit, kids are heavy when they’re asleep.”
“Liam!” Cerys slaps me on the arm and I pull an apologetic face.
Laying Ella’s dribbling face on my shoulder, we head into the house. The heat hits as hard as the cold did when we came out of the shops. I call ‘hello’. Nobody’s home. Shaking some hair from my face, I carry Ella upstairs.
Stepping into my old bedroom is strange, especially as all available space is covered in Cerys and Ella’s stuff. A suitcase lies open in one corner of my room, kid’s clothes flowing out and onto the floor. Cerys crosses toward the window and pulls the curtains closed. I flop Ella onto the bed, probably not as gently as I should. The little girl mumbles and tugs the blanket over her head.
“Okay?” I ask unsure if there’s something else I need to do.
Cerys hovers in the doorway with Ella’s juice cup in her hands with a look in her eyes I recognise. Funny, I’m used to knowing when chicks want me; but it’s a long time since the strange tension from my teenage years hung in the air, where there’s a doubt over whether either person wants to or should do anything. This hangs heavily in the room now and I’m not comfortable.
“Umm. Liam.” Cerys extends a hand and touches my hair. “Did you know you have a plait in your hair?”
“What? Shit!” I put my hand up too, brushing Cerys’s fingers. A static buzz passes and I fight taking hold of her fingers and kissing them. She drops her hand.
“Have I been walking around with that in my hair all day?” I ask, pulling the monstrosity apart with my fingers.
Cerys giggles. “Yes. I thought it was a ‘thing’.”
“A thing?”
“Yeah, rock star style.”
I let go of my hair. “I’m not Jack Sparrow. I’m a rock star, not a pirate.”
“Ella would prefer you if you were a pirate.”
“How about you? Would you prefer it, if I was a pirate or a rock star?”
She moistens her lips and the intensity grows in the space between. “I’d prefer it if you were Liam, my best friend’s grungy big brother with a big heart.”
“I am Liam, the grungy big brother. I’m unsure on the big heart bit.”
“You are, Liam. Not many guys would be so nice to us. I didn’t expect you to put up with Ella when I saw you’d come home.”
I glance at the sleeping child. “You know men don’t grow up, right? I think we understand each other.”
Cerys laughs. “Oh, you grew up all right.”
f-uck, so did you. We’re close, if I move any nearer, the spark inside that urges me to touch her will arc between us and then... I don’t know. I’m confused. She’s hurt, I’m hurt, and whatever’s happening here would make everything worse. An intense battle rages inside not to take Cerys and kiss away the pain she’s hiding.
I don’t want to walk out of this room and away from this moment in case we’re never in the situation again. Common sense fails; I reach out and touch her cheek. “You’re an amazing mum and I’m sure you’re an amazing person, too. You shouldn’t be treated like this. I want to help you.”
Cerys takes my hand and moves it away. “I’m fine. I can sort myself out. Once Christmas is over.”
I try really, really hard but fail and my gaze wanders downward again, to her open jacket and the soft swell of her amazing tits. Jewellery free. She tugs her blue top upwards. Crap, now I’m in trouble.
I look up and attempt an apologetic look. “I guess I can’t say I was staring at your necklace this time?”
“No. I lost the necklace.” She touches the space on her neck where the heart pendant always hangs.
“Shame. It was pretty.” She laughs at me. “What?”
“Pretty useful because you could stare at my tits and pretend you had an interest in jewellery?”
I smirk and feign insult. “No, as if!” Cerys raises a ‘yeah, right’ eyebrow. “Was it special? You always had it on whenever I got to admire your… jewellery.”
She can’t help but join in the smile but her eyes tell a different story. “Yes, it was special. I think I lost it when I went out with Lou last night. I feel a bit naked without it.”
Shit, don’t say ‘naked’ when I’m currently trying to keep images of a naked you out of my head.
“Ah, last night.”
She purses her lips. “What’s that mean?”
She doesn’t remember, obviously. Those lips – plump, inviting… I wish I’d kissed her. “Nothing.”
“Why are you looking at me like that then?” she asks in a low voice.
f-uck it. “Because I want to kiss you.”
I expect her to look away, blush, or walk straight out of the room. She doesn’t and her deep brown eyes reflect my own desire.
“Why?” Cerys asks.
“I don’t know.” I groan. “That sounded bad.”
The unspoken between us continues to reflect in Cerys’s eyes. “I don’t know why I want to kiss you either.”
I cross the last of the space between us and rest my forehead on hers; aware the speed of her warm breath matches mine. “Maybe because it’s wrong?”
“Maybe.”
“But we should do it anyway?” I ask.
The long pause. Is she battling the same as I am? “Maybe.”
Cupping Cerys’s chin with my fingers, I tip her face and place my lips on hers. There’s a hesitancy that worries me, from both of us. My mind says ‘gentle’; but when Cerys presses her mouth harder, I know I’m gone. My body wins and I drag her hips toward mine, pushing my tongue into her mouth. Cerys makes a small noise as she welcomes my deeper kiss, and I hear the juice cup hit the floor as she winds her fingers into my hair and presses herself into me. Her soft lips and her sweetness have a power over me that’s going to hurt because I want her more than I’ve wanted anything or anybody for a long time, and she’s not mine.
This is turning me the f-uck on, I’m hard against her hip, and if I sneak a hand beneath her clothes to touch her skin, I’ll want to consume her like all the girls before. But this kiss is different; this kiss consumes me.
Heaving back self-control, I tone down the kiss and wrap Cerys’s small figure in my arms. I’m lost in a strange unity I didn’t expect. Kissing her is like coming home; warm, familiar and, even though we said it was wrong, the most natural feeling in the world. Cerys relaxes into me, letting go of the tension she carries everywhere and intensifies my need to take care of her.
Cerys pulls her head away and touches my lips. “That didn’t feel wrong.”
“No.” I move her fingers and attempt to catch her mouth with mine again but she steps back, unwinding my hands from her waist.
“Ella.” Cerys tips her head to indicate her daughter.
“She’s asleep,” I whisper.
“I don’t want her to see me kissing someone who isn’t her dad.”
I cringe at the reality. Okay, Cerys isn’t married; but five years is a long relationship, longer than any I’ve had. I rub my thumb across her cheek. “I want to take you out, somewhere Ella can’t see us kiss.”
“I don’t think that’s very realistic, Liam.”
The fuzzy, happy feeling retreats as quickly as it came. “Why?”
“A few reasons, Liam, think about it.”
How can she snap back to logic so easily? “So the kiss was wrong?”
The sound of the front door opening shifts our focus and Mum calls a greeting upstairs. With the first family member home for the evening, I know this is the end of our conversation, and whatever happened here. The doorway we stand in faces the top of the stairs. Downstairs, Mum hangs her coat, and before she turns, I reluctantly move away from Cerys.
Ella isn’t the only one we don’t want aware of our kiss.