“No.” I grab my stuff and follow him over, and a few minutes later I’m set up at a reclining chair, sipping my water and munching grapes in relative silence. Cool wind washes over my body, prickling goosebumps on my skin. It feels amazing in contrast to the warm glow of the sun.
I’m feeling slightly nauseated, so I snarf down nearly all the grapes and most of the water. In not too long, I need a restroom—but before I go in search of one, I pretend to take a sip of the martini, then walk over to the wall and pour most of it over the side. This way if there are cameras up here and someone watching, they’ll just think I didn’t like the drink.
Better than Liam asking why I didn’t try it.
I leave my bag and set off down the stairs in search of a restroom. As I’m passing the small landing for Liam’s attic floor, I hear his voice and stop.
“You know I’ll never do that, Dru.” His tone is firm, his voice is low and harsh.
“Everything,” he says.
I wait to hear a woman’s voice, and when I don’t, I realize Liam is on the phone.
“No one said you were. Not on the outside.” He sounds pissed off. Kind of tired, too.
“You really think there’s someone else? I wouldn’t put a fucking dog through this bullshit.” His voice lowers a volume. “I’m not sure how long I’ll go on putting me through it.”
I swallow as I hear his footfall on the gym’s hardwood floor. “Maybe I don’t care, Drucilla.”
Then another pause before he says, “Maybe that’s for the best.”
When I hear him breathing hard, I think the worst—and I can’t keep myself from checking. The door from stairwell to gym is propped open. I creep closer and peek inside. I can’t see Liam from my angle, but I can see him in the mirror. To my shock, he doesn’t have his dick in hand.
He’s kneeling with his back against a wall of mirrors and his forehead on his knees. His hands are folded over his head. I can see his shoulders pumping with the depth of his harsh breaths.
Shit. It’s not easy to stay where I’m standing. I just want to go to him. To talk to him. I want to touch him, stroke the warm lines of his face and pull him up against me.
Suddenly, he stands up, and I watch him walk to a small strip of counter. He pulls out a canister of whey protein, and then a glass. And then…a glass of liquor? I watch as he pours gold liquid into the glass. His shoulders draw up as he stares at it for a long moment. Then he downs the entire thing.
He shakes his head once. Reaches for a turn-switch on a row of light switches. Music fills the room: the Rolling Stones. I hurry down a level, feeling strangely raw as I head to my room.
TWENTY-ONE Lucy
I stay up on the roof for almost two more hours after my bathroom break, waiting for Liam to show up and tell me what we’re doing next and when. When he doesn’t come, I gather my things and walk slowly down the narrow, glossy wooden stairs.
I find the workout room empty.
A quick peek around the second story reveals Liam’s bedroom door is shut. I can’t hear anything inside his rooms, and rather than look around for him, I spend some time with Grey, then take a steaming shower, washing sunscreen off myself and lathering my body with bath scrub.
I’m sitting at the counter vanity, rubbing lotion on my cheeks, when my phone buzzes.
‘Want to leave in about half an hour?’
I text back, ‘Sure.’
‘I’ll hang a backpack on your door handle. Pack warm for tonight. Let me know if you need clothes and I’ll get some.’
I send him a cheesy smilie. ‘Prince Charming.’
A few minutes later, dressed in my favorite pair of worn designer jeans, a thin, indigo blue sweater, and brown boots, I open my door and grab a giant, suede-ish hiking pack that’s slung around the door handle. It’s heavy with the weight of…something. I stick my face into the top of the bag. Liam’s clothes.
God, they smell so freaking good. Kind of crisp like after-shave and…woodsy.
I can’t seem to stop myself from fishing around inside. My fingers touch soft cotton, and I pull out what turns out to be a white, V-neck undershirt. There are two tiny holes near the shoulder, which I find interesting. Liam could definitely afford a new undershirt, but I guess he’s like me: he likes his old, familiar things.
After one final sniff, I stuff the shirt back inside and pack my own clothes on top.
I refill Grey’s automatic-dispensing food and water container, then spend a few minutes with him on the foot of the bed, scratching him under his chin and rubbing the top of his head the way he likes. I turn on the TV hidden in an armoire, navigate to a channel that doesn’t seem to be nature-oriented—National Geographic scares the shit out of him—and tell him I’ll be back tomorrow.
My cell phone shows I have five minutes before it’s time to meet Liam in the hall, so I wander back into the bathroom, pulling a small vial of perfume out of my bag and dabbing a little behind my ears. I know it’s wrong to tempt him, but it’s kind of fun. Is it so terrible to have a little fun?
I feel a little wave of nausea as I step back into the bedroom.
Duh. I have to pack some crackers. I down three ginger snaps plus a swallow of water, then put the box of ginger snaps at the top of the bag. I’ll have to create some bullshit story about how I love ginger things. It’s not completely untrue. I really do have a massive thing for gingerbread.
I find Liam leaning against the hallway wall, wearing a long-sleeved maroon hoodie, black-ish jeans, and black boots. He looks incredible. He’s got his hair pulled back.
“Hi,” he says when I step out. His full lips tip up at the corners in a tiny smile.
“Hey, you.”
He takes the pack from me and slings it over his shoulder, then, with a quick look at my face, he starts walking toward the stairs. I fall in step with him. I realize I haven’t seen him since before I listened to his phone call. I kind of forgot about the phone call, but now I’m curious. What was that?
He wouldn’t put a dog through what bullshit. And then he said he didn’t want to put himself through it. What did that mean? Was he talking to a woman? I felt like he was. I forgot the name he called the other person, but it sounded like a woman’s name.
I steal a glance at him. I can’t help noting that all the earlier flirtation he was throwing my way has gone dormant. He seems…somber. As we walk down the stairs, he pulls a dark blue cap onto his head. I watch him pull his man-bun down a little so it fits right.
“Sox?”
He turns to me, smiling that small smile again. It fades fast, though, and then he’s looking at his feet.
As we step off the stairs onto the first floor, I bump him with my elbow. His eyebrows raise.
I smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
I wrap an arm around his waist and snuggle up against him.
Liam’s arm goes around me, too, squeezing for just a second before he lets me go. I lift my head off his arm and find him giving me a crooked smile. “What was that for?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“You’re a strange one, Lucille Rhodes.”
When we start walking again, he catches my hand. He lifts it up. “I like this.”
“My polish?”