But, for me, sex is about connection. It's about intimacy. I honestly don't know where it came from because my parents were basically old hippies. They were libertines, very open about their sexuality and never really sheltered me from it. As I grew older, they encouraged me to explore myself and experiment, get in touch with my inner desires and fantasies. All the while, they told me it was perfectly natural.
For some reason though, the lessons never took, and I ended up going in the opposite direction. While I'm not necessarily a prude – an assertion I know Skyler would disagree with – I'm also not the “free love” kind of person either.
“He's filthy, stinking rich, and he's successful,” Skyler says. “He's got all kinds of fancy toys like that private helicopter.”
“You know stuff like that doesn’t matter to me,” I say.
“I know,” she says. “But, wouldn't it be nice to have somebody in your life who could take care of you?”
I laugh. “I don’t think I would like to be a kept woman.”
“Not what I'm talking about,” she says. “All your life, you've taken care of other people. You take care of this shop. You took care of your parents. Your friends. Hell, you take care of me most of the time. Wouldn't it be a nice change of pace to not have to worry about anything? To have somebody take care of you for a change?”
“I don't take care of you,” I say.
“Yes. You do,” she says, looking at me earnestly. “In a million different ways, you do. I guess I don't do a good enough job of thanking you for it or making you feel appreciated, but you do, Paige. I wouldn't be half the woman I am today if it wasn’t for you.”
Heat rushes into my cheeks and my heart swells with happiness. Skyler isn't one who often gives into displays of emotion like that – especially with other people. Which makes what she said means that much more to me.
I have to admit, not having to worry and stress about how I'm going to keep the lights on or feed myself would be a nice change of pace. Not having to constantly fear that I am going to go bankrupt for holding on to my shop would be wonderful.
At the same time, I don’t think I’m willing to only be somebody's kept woman. I'm not the type to go out looking for a sugar daddy. I'm not willing to sell myself out for a little financial security. That's not the kind of person I am and not who my parents raised me to be.
“I just want to see you happy,” Skyler says. “I want that more than anything.”
“I am happy,” I say, her hand a gentle squeeze.
“No, you're not,” she says. “You don't think I see it, but I do. You're unsettled, hon. You're not happy. At least, not as happy as you could be.”
“Don't worry about me, Sky,” I say. “I'm just in a little rut. I'll figure it out and bounce back before you know it.”
She surprises me by pulling me into a tight embrace. We both stand there for a moment, looking at one another, tears shimmering in our eyes. And the stupid thing is, I don't even know why we're both so weepy all of a sudden.
We both awkwardly laugh and dab at our eyes. Skyler looks at me and a small grin touches the corners of her lips.
“So, do you like him?”
I laugh and shake my head. “This question again?”
“Yes, because you so deftly dodged it last time,” she says. “Don't think I didn't notice.”
I sigh. “I don't know him,” I say. “But, I'm – intrigued – by him.”
“Intrigued,” she says and nods. “That's something. I can work with that.”
“There's nothing to work with,” I say. “A man like that isn't going to be interested in a woman like me. We come from two totally different worlds.”
She shrugs. “They say opposites attract.”
“They say a lot of things.”
“That they do,” she replies. “But you're also making assumptions again.”
“I think this one is pretty well founded,” I say.
“I think you're wrong,” she replies. “And there's only one way to find out.”
“And how's that?”
“Go back to his place and see him.”
I open my mouth to shoot down her idea but then close it again. I'm not entirely opposed to the idea of seeing him again. But, that's presuming he'd want to see me again. For all I know, he offered me coffee just to be polite.
“I don't have anything left to apologize for,” I say and laugh. “I have no reason to go to his place.”
“You said he's a reader,” she says. “So, bring him a book.”
I look around at the cluttered bookshelves and smile. That might actually work. There might not be anything there. For all I know, Liam has a girlfriend. Or, he's simply not interested in me. Hell, for all I know, he's not interested in women at all. But there's only one way to find out.
I happen to glance out at the street and feel my eyes widen. Seeing my reaction, Skyler turns and looks as well. Walking across the street and toward the door of the shop is none other than Liam Anderson himself. I feel my pulse begin to race as a nervous energy fills my body.
“Is that him?” Skyler asks. “Is that Gatsby?”
I nod. “Yeah, that's him.”
“Oh, my,” she says. “I can see why you're all flustered over him.”
“Shut up,” I say and laugh. “Why is he here?”
“Obviously, he's coming to see you,” she says.
“But why?”
“Because he didn't get the hot, naked, crazy sex with that coffee the other day,” she says.
I slap her playfully on the shoulder. Liam steps up on the sidewalk. He's ten feet from the door and sees me through the front windows. He smiles and raises his hand. Feeling like an idiot, I wave in return. It's then that I notice the cuts and bruises on his face.
“Oh my God,” I say. “He looks like he's been in an accident.”
“Well, I should probably go then,” Skyler says. “Let you – tend to his wounds and all.”
“Incorrigible,” I mutter.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
She heads for the door and the bell jingles as it opens. Liam steps inside as Skyler is heading out – and I can't help but notice her checking out his ass. Standing behind him, she gives me a thumbs-up – which is quickly followed by a more obscene, sexual gesture.
Laughing, she flounces out the door, leaving me alone with him. We stand there, both of us frozen, staring at each other for a few seconds. Neither of us seems to know what to say. Finally, I shake my head and break the paralysis.
“So how does the other guy look?” I ask, gesturing to his face.
Liam laughs and steps toward the counter. “Hi, Paige,” he says. “Nice to see you again.”
Chapter Fourteen
Liam
“Jesus, Liam,” she gasps. “What happened to you?”
“Would you believe me if I said I walked into a door?”
“No.”
“How about I fell down some stairs?”
“Let me think about that,” she says. “Yeah, no.”
Her laugh rings in the air like crystal chimes in the air and even though I can tell she's trying hard not to smile. I can tell she doesn't want to laugh. I can almost see the concern in her eyes.
I, of course, would rather not make a big deal about it. It happened. It's over. It's time to move on. Like my father always said, when life knocks you down, you get back up. But, Paige is looking at the cuts and bruises on my face – I know I probably look like I went a few rounds with Floyd Mayweather – but I somehow don't want her to worry.
And humor seems to be the best way to deflect her worry. It's how I usually try to deal with tense situations.
“Bar fight,” I say, shrugging. “A debate about who the better president was – Taft or Cleveland – got a little heated.”
“That must have been some debate,” she laughs. “You look like shit.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I reply. “Who knew that Taft has such enthusiastic and devoted fans.”
“I never would have pegged you for a Cleveland guy.”
“No? Who would you have pegged me for then?” I ask.
“You seem more like a Teddy Roosevelt guy to me.”
“Thank you for not saying Reagan,” I reply. “I would have walked out the door and never come back.”
She laughs and leans against the counter, still scrutinizing my face. And while she's amused by my attempt light-hearted banter, I can tell she's also concerned. Genuinely concerned.
“But seriously,” she said. “What really happened?”