Until There Was You

Chapter TEN



“THAT’S GOING TO fall down and kill you someday,” Henry muttered, staring up at the belfry. He looked at Posey and sighed, then jumped back abruptly. “Oh, God! There’s a cat. I forgot you had cats.” Henry was afraid of cats, something Posey and Jon found hilarious. “Why am I here again?”

“You’re not here. Jon is here,” Posey said. “I need advice. And the bell is safe. Mostly. But don’t stand under it, okay? Mom and Dad would kill me if their precious perfect got a boo-boo at my house. Shilo, you move, too, buddy.” They went down to the kitchen, where Shilo collapsed at Henry’s feet with a thud that shook the room, then stared up at Posey’s brother with adoring, red-rimmed eyes.

Henry sighed, picked up a bottle of wine, shook his head and replaced it, as if deeply saddened that his sister bought such uninspired booze. “You’re welcome to buy me better stuff, Hen,” she said.

“I should buy you a better house. This place is a death trap. Could you move this cat?”

“Meatball, go. Henry doesn’t like you. And this place is not a death trap! It’s great! It has character.”

“And too many animals. How many do you have, Posey?”

“One dog, three cats. They came with the church, like angels, right, Sagwa? Try not to show fear, Henry. They feed off it.” Posey giggled as her brother’s face paled.

“Can we stop talking?” Jon asked. “We’re getting ready for a date, and your sister’s hair is a challenge to even the most gifted hair gods. Thank you. Now. We want to look nice, but not like we’re trying too hard. Good thing I brought my tools.” He unpacked a blow-dryer and rounded brush from his little case.

“So, who is this guy again?” Henry asked.

Jon sighed dramatically. “Do you listen to nothing I tell you?” he asked. “His name is Liam, he’s a widower, totally hot. Better than that poser you were dating a while back, sweetie.”

“You were dating someone?” Henry asked.

Jon looked at Posey and shook his head. “Ignore him. Now. I’m thinking sort of a Natalie Portman look, right?”

“What does he do for a living?” Henry asked.

“Motorcycle mechanic. Custom bikes, repairs, all that manly stuff we know nothing about,” Jon answered. “Posey, tilt your head, honey.”

“Motorcycles are good for my business,” Henry said. “I did the coolest amputation on a Hell’s Angel last week, did I tell you, Pose?”

Jonathan turned on the blow-dryer to full power. “La la la la, don’t tell amputation stories, honey, how many times have we discussed this? Posey, what are we wearing?”

“Does everything have to be first person plural?” Henry asked. “Is that in the manual for how to be gay?”

“Well, sweetheart, if there’s a manual, you should read it. You’re gay, after all. Not that you can tell, sadly. Posey, he dresses like a straight, color-blind computer programmer, and it breaks my heart. Tilt.”

Tonight wasn’t a date, of that Posey was pretty sure. Or maybe it was, and she just didn’t know it. If he’d said, “Posey, I find you very attractive and would like to spend more time with you,” then she’d know. If he’d said, “I’m bored out of my skull and I asked you because you were standing in front of me and I have no feelings for you whatsoever,” then she’d know that, too. If only men were more straightforward.

The heat of the hair dryer was making her ears itch. She wasn’t sure this was a good idea. She wasn’t sure she even liked Liam. Lusted after, yes, she’d covered that. So did every female around, clearly.

But.

You don’t turn down a date with a guy who makes your knees buzz just by looking at you. The guy who held your heart in his fist for two formative years.

And maybe…maybe he did like her. Oh, crap, she sounded like she was fifteen again. Not good. Not good at all.

“Okay, your hair’s…well, it’s fine. It’s good.” Jon stood back and looked at her hair, frowning. “You don’t have any hair glue, do you?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” she said. “And what happened to not trying too hard?”

“What are you wearing?” he asked. Henry checked his messages.

“Just jeans and a sweater,” Posey said.

“Which jeans? Which sweater? We are doing makeup, aren’t we? Come, child, look up. By all that’s holy, how old is this eye shadow?”

“Old,” Posey admitted. “Bush administration.”

“Herbert Walker, or just Walker? Well, if it’s bad, you’ll be the first to know. Blink.”

“Don’t make me look like a child prostitute, okay?”

“You sure?” Jon said, rolling his eyes. “Honey, please. Don’t forget who dressed up as Kate Moss for Halloween and looked like her twin.”

“Damn, I missed a shattered elbow,” Henry muttered, staring at his iPhone. “I love shattered elbows.” He glanced up. “So, Jon and I are thinking about adopting a baby,” he said, and Posey bolted out of her chair.

“Guys!” she said. “That’s great! Oh, my gosh, I’m gonna be an aunt! At last!”

“You sound just like Mom,” Henry said, grinning. “Well, we’ve just started looking around at different agencies and stuff. But we’re ready. Right, Jon?”

“Totally ready,” he said. “Sit back down, Posey. So, yeah, we’re thinking it doesn’t have to be newborn, right? But let me ask you, because Henry here doesn’t have normal feelings…do you ever feel adopted?”

“I am adopted,” she said.

“Right. But…I don’t know. Do you wonder about your birth parents?” he asked.

“I don’t,” Henry said.

“I know you don’t. I’ve been married to you for ten years. Do you, Posey?”

“Yeah, I think about them,” she said. “Sometimes I see someone who might look like me, and I wonder if it’s a long-lost cousin or something. I wish I knew the circumstances, you know? Henry at least knows that.”

“The tragic orphan, yes.”

“Right. So it would’ve been nice to know why my birth mother chose adoption. But otherwise, no. Max and Stacia are my parents.”

“Are you done interrogating my sister?” Henry asked. “There’s a call for an amputation, and I’d really hate to miss it.”

Jon sighed. “Another night alone with a gourmet dinner and Dexter on DVD.”

“Sounds like heaven to me,” Posey said.

“Nonsense. You’ll have so much fun on this date.” He kissed her cheek and attempted one last time to flatten the cowlick on the back of her head. “Call me later, I’ll be up. And dog, don’t even look at me. Do you know how much these pants cost?”

“And take down that bell, Pose,” Henry added as they left. “It’s gonna kill you someday.”

The bell was, in fact, Posey’s prized possession. But she wasn’t sure it wouldn’t fall off, no matter what she told her family, all of whom viewed her house as riddled with opportunities to die. Still, the clock had lasted for more than a hundred years. Chances were it would last a little longer.

The makeup was starting to sting. Guess that three-month warning meant something after all. She went upstairs and washed it off, then took a long look in the mirror.

She would never be fat, that was true. Her roomy 32-A had become a 32-B somewhere in her twenties, and she was grateful. She wasn’t unattractive, though she wished her hair would behave a little better. She kept it short, because it tended to curl when it grew, making her head look huge and giving her an overall lollipop appearance. But on a scale of one to ten, she was—maybe—a six, six and a half.

Gretchen was a ten.

Liam was a forty-nine.

Why had he asked her out? No one dated anymore, did they? They filled out computer forms, met and either moved on or got married. And Liam Murphy…he just didn’t seem the type to date. He seemed like the type to press a woman against a wall, kiss the bejesus out of her and shag her into the middle of next week, though. Uh-huh. Oh, yeah.

At that very moment, the doorbell rang, and Posey jumped.

The doorbell was the only thing that seemed to hit her dog’s protective instincts, and he barreled down the stairs, baying his hollow, echoing bark, then hurled himself against the door like a narcotics agent on a bust.

“Shilo! Down! Down, boy! Easy!”

Shilo took this as an invitation to jump against her, which caused Posey to stagger. “Down!” She managed to wrestle her dog off her, adjusted her shirt, and opened the door.

There he was, Hottie McSin. The details didn’t matter—in fact, her vision was already blurry with lust—but the overall picture said Do me. Shilo seemed to agree, flopping on his back, paws stretching over his head. “Hi,” Liam said, and she practically came on the spot. There was a wall right there, for heaven’s sake. Just in case he wanted to push her up against it and—

Shilo whined, his tail whacking against her foot. Aware that she should greet her guest, Posey opened her mouth. “Yes. Hello.” Her voice was husky, and she was positive he could read her mind. She swallowed hard. “Want to come in?”

“Will that thing eat me?”

“Maybe. Come on in and let’s see.” He grinned. Stay cool, Posey, stay cool, she warned herself. Do not have an orgasm just because he’s here. But come on! The man was beautiful. His jaw was dark with five o’clock shadow, his black hair rumpled, that faint look of reserve on his face. Posey wondered what he’d do if she ripped his shirt open and licked his neck. Seemed like a good idea to her, that was for sure. Shilo licked his chops as if echoing his owner’s thoughts. “So,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Um…want the tour?”

“Sure.”

She led him through the house, careful not to touch him. Or look at him. Or have an orgasm. “So, this is my house. It used to be a church.” Her dog woofed approvingly.

“Yeah, I got that,” Liam said. He looked up at her vast ceilings. “Is that a catwalk?”

“Yep.”

“Can we go upstairs and see it?”

Upstairs. Where her bedroom was. “Sure,” she squeaked. “Shilo, stay.” Her dog obliged, collapsing to the floor for some personal grooming.

She followed Liam upstairs, trying hard not to reach out and touch his—

“Are you doing this work yourself?” he asked, gesturing at the half-finished floor, where her cats lay around like throw pillows. Meatball lifted his head, then resumed his nap.

“Um…I hired out for some things—electric and plumbing and stuff—but yeah, I did a lot myself. I’m good with a saw.” That’s great. Very hot. I’m sure he’s incredibly turned on.

“Is that a bell pull?” he asked.

“Oh, don’t touch that!” She gave him a shove, and he stumbled back, giving her a baffled look. “It doesn’t work. It’s a little…iffy. Um… When’s the movie?”

“Seven-thirty. You ready to go?”

“Yup.”

Unrequited lust made for crappy conversation. As they rode along in Liam’s car, Posey decided silence was better than making an idiot of herself. Besides, her brain churned with questions. Why was she here? Was this a date? Would he kiss her? What if he did in fact kiss her? Holy Elvis Presley, did he think they were going to have sex tonight? Where would Shilo and the triumvirate sleep? Was Liam Murphy hiding some deep, unspoken attraction for her? Did she have pajamas without holes or cartoon characters?

They got to the movie theater. Liam bought tickets, and Posey forced herself to go through the motions of polite conversation. Yes, she wanted popcorn. The large, please. Yes to Milk Duds. Yes to the ginger ale. Thanks.

She couldn’t stop the surreal feeling. It was like a dream…so odd, too unbelievable. There was Kylie Duchamps, an old classmate, staring openmouthed as her tween-age daughter texted. A woman Posey didn’t know was giving Liam the eye as he paid for their snacks.

“Hi, Mr. Murphy!” came a breathy voice. A girl about Nicole’s age blushed to the roots of her hair.

“Hi, Caroline,” he said easily, and the girl burst into giggles. Liam smiled and handed the popcorn to Posey.

“Thanks.” She dumped in the Milk Duds so they’d soften and ooze some chocolate onto the popcorn. And people thought she wasn’t a good cook.

“So, Mr. Murphy, can Nicole, like, come over sometime?” the giggler asked.

Kylie Duchamps appeared at Posey’s side. “Hi, there!” she said. She’d been a cheerleader in high school—in other words, not someone who’d ever spoken to Posey, other than to call her Anne Frank. “Is that Liam Murphy? I heard he was back! What’s he doing here?”

“I believe he’s here to see a movie,” Posey said.

“OMG! With you?”

“Yes.” There should be a law that no one over the age of fourteen could say OMG without a public stoning. Except Jon, of course.

“That’s… Wow.” Kylie had been one of the slutty, popular girls, so pretty and confident back then. Since then, Kylie had packed on a few extra pounds, her once-cute features looking rather piggy in her puffy face. Sometimes, life was fair. “Weird, huh?” Kylie added.

“What’s weird?”

“Ma-a-ah,” bleated the child, who was a mini-me version of her mother. “I don’t want to miss the previews! Come on!”

Kylie ignored her. “It’s just that it’s strange that he’s with you—Liam! Hi! Long time no see, stranger!” She threw herself at Liam and hugged him fiercely. “You look great! It’s so good to see you!”

“Ma, can we go?” whined Kylie’s daughter. “Come on!”

Liam gave Posey a rather amused look. “Do I know you?” he said to Kylie, disentangling himself from her tentacles.

“As if! Of course you do! We went to high school together? Duh!” Clearly Liam had a wormhole effect on the former cheerleader, because she reverted into the tortured Val-speak that she’d affected back then.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Kylie Duchamps? Well, I’m married now. And a mother, if you can believe it!”

“Ma-a-ah! Come on!”

Liam nodded. “Nice to meet you. Cordelia, you all set?” He took her by the arm and led her away from Kylie and her irritable child.

“Sure you don’t want to catch up?” Posey said, trying to ignore the sweet, strong tingle Liam’s hand induced. This had to be a date. He was touching her. Right? Didn’t touching constitute intent? Also, he’d bought her all this food.

“Very funny. I can’t tell you how many times that’s happened.”

“What? You running into some girl you slept with?”

“I didn’t sleep with that one,” he muttered.

“You sure?” Posey couldn’t help grinning.

“Shush.” He held the door for her (very date-ish), and she went into the theater, which was one of those stadium types, and lurched to a stop. Ah. So that was why she was here.

Nicole Murphy sat four rows up next to the boy Liam had threatened at school the other day. At the sight of her father, her face went from bright and happy to horrified disbelief. “Dad! Are you serious?”

“Let’s sit here, Cordelia,” Liam said, loping up the stairs to the fifth row.

“Dad! No!”

“Oh, hi, sweetheart. Didn’t know you were coming to this show. What a coincidence.” His voice took on a harder edge. “Tanner.” Liam sat directly behind the boy.

So. Not a date. A stalking mission to ensure the chastity of his daughter. Super. She should’ve known.

“Excuse me,” said a man behind her. Right. She was blocking the stairs. With a sigh, she headed up to Liam. Who was an idiot.

“Hi, Nicole,” she said. “Sorry. I didn’t know this was a reconnaissance mission.”

“Whatever,” the girl mumbled.

“Hi,” Tanner said, turning around to smile at Posey. “Nice to see you again.”

“You have beautiful manners,” she answered, which caused Nicole to smile and her father to growl. “Tell your mom she did a good job with you.”

“Thanks, I will,” Tanner said. “Hope you like the movie, Mr. Murphy.”

“I won’t be watching the movie,” Liam said pointedly. He dug in his pocket and withdrew a miniature bottle of Purell and held it out next to his daughter’s head. When he didn’t withdraw it, she snatched it from him, poured a little onto her hands, and handed it back without looking at her father.

“I want to be adopted,” Nicole said, rubbing vigorously.

“I’m adopted,” Posey offered.

Nicole turned around to look at her. “Really? That’s so cool! Would you adopt me?”

“Sure,” Posey said. “Do you like dogs? I have a Great Dane.”

“Absolutely!” she said.

“Done deal, then.”

“Very funny,” Liam said, rubbing Purell into his own hands. “Want some?” he asked.

“I’m good,” she answered.

“I so cannot believe you’re here, Dad,” Nicole said. “Tanner, I am really sorry.”

“No worries,” the kid answered.

“It’s a free country, Nicole,” Liam said.

“Not if you’re me,” she grumbled, turning back around. “I’m, like, under surveillance.”

“True.”

The lights went down, and Liam reached over for some popcorn. “Get your own,” Posey said, leaning away.

“Wow. That’s not very nice.”

“Well, neither is taking me to spy on your kid, Liam!”

“Thank you!” Nicole said. The previews began.

“Look,” Liam whispered, and against her will, Posey’s entire side tingled. “She’s fifteen years old. Bozo there’s a senior. Do the math.”

“What math?” Posey asked.

“The sex math.”

“You’re an idiot,” she muttered, shoving another fistful of popcorn into her mouth. Why try to be delicate when all Liam was looking for was a beard? Or whatever the term was?

“You really gonna eat all that by yourself?” Liam said, eyeing her barrel of popcorn.

“Yes, Liam. I have a very fast metabolism. I have to eat a lot. If I don’t, I’ll turn into a bag of bones. Now shut up and watch the movie.”

She sat there in the dark, fuming. She was mad at herself, too—not just him. She should’ve known it couldn’t really be a date. Should’ve smelled something. Shouldn’t have read into him touching her arm, or giving her that hot look when he asked her, because let’s face it, the man oozed hot looks. He probably looked that way at his dentist. His proctologist. She wasn’t special—not to him, at any rate. She was nothing but a desperate woman dumb enough to go to the movies with him.

At least the flick wasn’t too bad. Sci-fi freaky thing about nature gone wrong. At one point, when the hybrid alien creature tore out someone’s throat, Nicole gave a little shriek, and Tanner put his arm around her. Liam kicked his seat, and when Tanner looked back, Liam said, in a very soft, somewhat scary sing-song voice, “Get your arm…off my kid.” And even though he was being a jerk, Posey couldn’t help the slight thrill she felt at the protectiveness in his voice. Papa Lion protecting the pride. Tanner glanced at Nicole, who sighed the sigh of a martyr, and obeyed.

When the alien hybrid had been killed (though not before it secretly gave birth to the sequel), the lights came back up. “Well, that was fun,” Liam announced. “Nic, since we’re going to the same place, I’ll save Tanner some gas and drive you home.”

“Dude, I don’t mind,” Tanner objected.

“Dude, you can call me Mr. Murphy, and I’m not letting you drive her anywhere,” Liam said. “Do you know the statistics on teenage accidents?”

“Said the man who tore through our quiet countryside on a motorcycle when he was your age,” Posey added.

“Dad! You drove a motorcycle in high school?” Nicole’s eyes were wide. “How did you, like, keep all this secret?”

Liam turned his head very slowly to look at Posey. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” she said, tipping the popcorn bucket to her mouth for the last few kernels.

“Tanner, I’ll take my daughter home. Nicole, thank Tanner for the movie.”

Nicole straightened her jacket. “Tanner, thanks for putting up with my idiot father, who’s, like, ruining my life, and if you never want to speak to me again, I totally understand.”

“I think you’re really cute,” Tanner said, and Posey had to give the boy props. He was brave or stupid or, being a teenager, both.

“She is really cute,” Liam agreed. “Also underage. Got it? I’ll press charges so fast, you’ll be picking up soap in the state prison before you even blink.”

“Dad! Please!” Nicole’s face turned bright red.

“See you in school,” Tanner said. He leaned forward as if to kiss her on the cheek, but Liam punched him on the shoulder, stopping him.

“Drive safe,” he said, and the boy got the hint and went off, leaving Posey, Liam and Nicole standing there. “I am so not going home with you,” Nicole hissed. “You humiliated me. I can’t believe you came tonight! Can’t I even go to the movies with a boy?”

“You did go to the movies with a boy,” Liam answered calmly. “And now you’re going home.”

“I’ll walk,” she said.

“Then I’ll drive alongside you until you get into the building, then call Mrs. Antonelli and ask her to keep an eye on you.”

“I hate you,” Nicole said bitterly, then glanced at Posey. “Sorry.”

“How did you get here?” Posey asked.

“Dad dropped me off,” she muttered. She pulled out her phone and clicked on it. “Gross! Dad! Jeez!”

“What?” Liam asked.

“Caroline Connors posted that you were hot! That’s disgusting!”

“So disgusting,” Posey echoed.

Nicole’s fingers were flying, and she muttered as she typed. “Ew. That’s my dad you’re talking about. And he’s a jerk.”

Ten silent minutes later, they pulled up in front of Liam’s building. “I’ll wait for the light to go on,” Liam told his daughter as she got out of the car. “And I’ll be back from her house in twenty minutes.”

Just in case there was any doubt that he was actually interested in her on any level.

Posey maintained her silence until the light on the fifth floor went on and Liam pulled away from the curb. “Think you might be a little overprotective, Liam?” she asked tightly as they turned on Bank Street.

“Yep. Show me a father who isn’t.”

“My brother-in-law says Tanner’s not a bad kid.” At his questioning look, she added, “I asked him yesterday.”

“He’s probably not. But what if he is? And come on, Cordelia. What eighteen-year-old boy doesn’t want to get laid?”

“Just because he wants to doesn’t mean he will. And Nicole’s not stupid. I’m sure you’ve talked to her about all this stuff.”

“I did,” he acknowledged.

“So I guess what you’re really afraid of is that Tanner is just like you, and all sorts of nice girls will be tricked—”

“You know what?” Liam snapped, not looking at her. “When you’re a single parent raising a teenage girl, you can give me a lecture. Okay?”

“Sure. And when you’re looking for someone to come spy on your daughter, ask someone else.” She stuffed her hands inside her pockets and glared at the dashboard.

“What are you complaining about?” Liam asked. “I bought your ticket. I bought your silo of popcorn. You seemed to like the movie.”

“Liam…” Posey took a sharp breath and held it and said nothing more. What was she going to tell him, anyway? That she’d thought it might be a date? That she was insulted that he’d barely spoken to her, that (maybe) he’d asked her to the movies because he knew she wouldn’t have plans?

He pulled up in front of the church and threw the car in Park. “Look,” he said sharply. “I’m sorry you had a crappy time. I just… Whatever. I’m trying to keep an eye on Nicole, and I figured you wouldn’t mind coming, since you seem to like her.”

Posey didn’t answer, not sure what to say.

“But I’d appreciate it if you kept stories of my idiot years to yourself,” he added. “Nicole doesn’t need to know what a shit I was.”

“You weren’t a shit,” Posey said. But then again, he had been. Ask any of the girls he slept with and dumped. Ask her. What about making fun of a girl because she was skinny, telling her prom date she was completely unattractive? That was pretty shitty.

Then again, ask her about that little striped cat. Ask her how it felt to float through the halls after he’d said hi in front of everyone.

Liam was looking at her, his face unreadable. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Okay. You better get back.” And before either of them could say anything more, she jumped out of his car and ran into her house, unlocked the door and went in, only to find Gretchen lying on her sofa in her pajamas, eating Posey’s last pint of Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Brittle ice cream. In other words, completely at home.