The party is in full swing, and I can’t help but look over at the door for him. How can he not show up for her birthday? He’s been a father to Aarabelle since she was a baby. He was the man in the hospital with her. Liam cared for her when I was sick and held her in his arms. For him to not be here breaks me in two.
“Hey, there’s my goddaughter!” Jackson calls out and Aarabelle smiles. He pulls me and Aara into a hug. “You both look stunning.”
“I think she’s a little young for you, babe.” Catherine chuckles from beside him. He rolls his eyes as he takes Aarabelle into his arms. “Hey!”
“Catherine, you look amazing!” I say and we hug each other. “California agrees with you.” She’s cut her hair to her shoulders and it’s pin straight. She looks so much more a classic beauty now. Her skin is bronze and she has this natural aura around her.
“Please, you would never know you had a baby. You look insane, and that dress . . .” We both smile knowingly. “Anyway, I’m glad we could be here. Muffin told me all about everything, and if you need anything please call me. Is he here?”
“I’m going to take this one and make the rounds. Women love a man with a kid,” Jackson says and heads into the kitchen with Aara.
“Such an idiot,” Catherine scoffs. “So . . . is he?”
“Which one?” I ask.
“Either, I guess.”
“Aaron’s here somewhere. Probably with Mark.”
She nods and we walk over toward a quieter corner. Jackson has Aarabelle and is probably feeding her God knows what, but right now, I don’t care.
“I’m sure he’ll be here.” She pats my arm.
I wish I could be sure. I’ve fought the urge to text him all day, but I need to keep my strength. He needs to come to me, because I keep running to him but he’s shut me out. I miss him.
A few more guests arrive, and my hope dwindles. Reanell and Catherine keep me busy and try to stop me from spinning into a downward spiral. This isn’t the Liam I know. There would be nothing he wouldn’t do for us.
“I’ll be right back,” I say to Reanell and she nods.
As I head into the hallway, I run into someone. “I’m so sor—” The words die on my tongue as I look up and see him. My heart rate accelerates as he holds my arms.
“Hi,” he says, still not releasing me.
I focus on breathing and try to ignore that he’s touching me. I want to kiss him so bad it hurts. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”
“I had to help a friend first. I wouldn’t miss her birthday.” His warm, rich voice washes over me and I shiver. “Cold?” he asks, not missing anything.
Liam releases me, and his eyes travel my body. He gazes over my skin then to my dress. His breath catches as he makes his way back up to my lips. Deciding to make this a little more difficult for him, I slowly lick my lips. He watches my tongue and presses his body against mine.
I’m flush against the wall, and his warmth is blanketing me. “Are you trying to fucking destroy me?” His voice is low against my ear. “Do you want me to lose my mind, sweetheart?”
I whimper softly at the term of endearment he uses. “No.”
“Really? Because that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
I straighten and stare at him. “You’re doing that on your own.”
“You’re making me hate the one person who I shouldn’t. You have no idea how torn up I am. How I fight the urge to come here at night and rip you out of his house. How I had to smash my phone to stop from calling you. I’m begging you . . . go change.” Liam’s plea is full of bitterness, and as much as it makes me want to ease his pain—I won’t.
I push against him and he backs up. “I’ve got guests waiting. You could’ve been here.” I step toward him and he retreats. “You could’ve been in my house every night, but you need space. With space comes this.” I turn on my heel and head toward the party, hoping he’s watching my ass the entire time.
Liam stands to the side of the party by Quinn and Ashton. They talk, but his eyes never waver from me. I can sense the way he watches me and almost feel his hostility when Aaron is around us.
Aaron does his best to give me space, but I try to include him. He’s different though. It’s almost like he’s not really here with us. Everything feels forced and uncomfortable. While he may not have always been overly social, he would’ve been at least engaging in conversations, but now he only responds to questions he’s directly asked.
I can’t help but be concerned that this is all too much for him. “Do you need a break?” I ask him quietly.
“I need to lie down,” he admits.
“Go ahead upstairs. We won’t do cake until you come back.” I place my hand on his arm, but he flinches.
Immediately he tries to soothe me. “Sorry, I just . . .”
“You don’t have to explain.”
Aaron turns, but then looks back. “I’m sorry, Lee. For everything.”
“I’m sorry too.” And I am. I’m sorry our lives have come to this. I’m sorry that we can’t go back in time to a place where there was no affair, no other people, just us. Maybe if I hadn’t been desperate for a family, things would’ve been different, but the bottom line is, sometimes sorry can’t fix the hurt. Sometimes the pain is so deep that no words can heal the damage, and knowing the man you spent months grieving slept with another woman . . . is one of those hurts.