He gives me this adorable little smile that makes his dimples show, then shrugs, then pulls my chair out.
As we eat, I have a hot flash and feel sick for just a minute, but my stomach settles down. I wonder, as we talk about Pirate Island and the animals here, and hunting, if it’s a sign from my body that I should just go ahead and freaking tell him.
…But I don’t.
I eat, and I watch Liam eat, and I watch him, he watches me; our legs brush underneath the little table. We watch birds and squirrels and shadows crawl across the table from the setting sun. Liam drinks his wine, and I make sure to let him see me take at least one sip of mine, and he remarks that I must really not like wine, and I lie and say that I don’t.
I tell myself he doesn’t really like me, mostly because he doesn’t really know me. I love wine.
There’s a gentle breeze. The whisper of leaves moving. After eating, I feel tired. We move inside and start a movie—E.T., because we both loved it as kids—and Liam covers me with a blanket, and I’m going crazy, torn between wanting to rest my head against his warm, strong shoulder and to run from my own quiet cowardice.
Tell him, I urge myself as his arm goes around me. He’s got his legs up on the couch, and I’m lying between them, curled up on my side, my cheek against his chest.
“Is this comfortable for you?” His voice is quiet and husky.
I nod. “Very.”
His chest rises. Falls. He murmurs, “Good.”
And that’s our night.
*
Liam falls asleep beneath me, twitching a few times and at one point making a strange sound in his throat as I finish the tail end of the movie curled against his big, warm chest.
When it’s over and I shift carefully off him, headed to pee, his body flinches and his eyes peel open.
He blinks two times, three, before his heavy-lidded gaze finds my face. “Lucy.”
“Yep.” I smile. “It’s me.”
His eyes shift to the TV, taking in the rolling credits before moving back to my face. “Sorry,” he says.
“For falling asleep?” He shrugs his shoulders, then he wraps his arms around himself. I smile at how adorable he is. I can almost see him watching E.T. as a little kid. “I had fun snuggling. You don’t need to be awake for it to still be awesome.”
I just let my thoughts pour from my mouth; when I hear them, they sound dumb and over-...something. Overly familiar, I guess. Who am I to snuggle with this guy I hardly know?
Even still, my words sound hollow to my own ears.
When I get back from the restroom, I find Liam washing our dishes. I’m drying as he passes them to me when his phone rings. His face tightens as he looks down at the screen.
He holds up one finger. “I’ll be right back.” I notice that he doesn’t answer as he walks onto the porch. He slides the door partially shut and leans against the wooden porch railing.
I’ve always been a nosy ass, and I guess I still am, I think as I turn the sink off and position myself in front of the TV, pretending to go through the box of DVDs. Out of the corner of the eye, I can see him clutching the phone. I strain to hear his words as he says, “…tomorrow. So fucking tomorrow. Not tonight.” Followed by, “Yes. I realize that.”
And then he’s hanging up. I watch covertly as he turns partway around, toward the table, where the wine bottle remains, and takes a long swing, followed by another. He leans his head back, and I see him squeeze his eyes shut in the moonlight. Rub his temples.
He looks stressed. Unhappy.
I don’t know him at all, I realize, not for the first time. But I want to. So much that it makes my stomach hurt.
When he doesn’t come straight inside, I go into my room and stretch out on my cozy bed with a 2013 edition of The New Yorker.
Sometime much later, I think I hear glass shatter, but I’m so sleepy, I only manage to roll over before I’m back in dreamland.
Sometime after that, I feel him move me up toward the pillows, feel the blankets meld around my body.
I don’t know what time it is when the mattress sinks and I feel strong arms wrap around me. I wake fully enough to realize that it’s Liam, and he’s holding me tightly. In the quiet dark, I hear his breathing, feel his breaths come fast and hard.
I turn toward him, snuggle his chest.
I stroke his hair. “You okay?”
From far away, I hear his, “Yeah.”
We fall asleep together. Every time I move around that night, my body buzzes like the island wind is moving through my veins.
TWENTY-FOUR Liam
We get back to the castle around noon.
I have to go to Clary, and I can’t take her with me. I feel a pang at the thought of leaving her here and realize I should probably have her leave the castle. I’m too attached to her already. And I definitely can’t keep her.
Desire tells me that I can. That it would be okay. That I could keep her safe, and that she wouldn’t mind once she found out. I keep thinking of the way she wrapped her arms and legs around me in her bed last night. How goddamned fabulous it felt. How when the sun rose, I didn’t want to leave—and so I tried with my mouth and hands to keep her there forever.
At one point, things got so heavy, I was worried we would fuck. But Lucy held back, too.
I tell myself, as I unload the car, that my feelings for her are one-sided. She’s not as desperate as I am. She’s not as fucked up. She might be sad, she might have been hurt by that fucker Parsons, but she’s strong. So unlike me.
I don’t deserve her. That’s what I have to keep on telling myself, until it’s time for her to leave.
For now, I show her to the kitchen, hook her up with Mora, leave her there eating my favorite lamb chops and those fucking whipped potatoes Mora does so well, and go upstairs and call my cousin.
Heath answers on the second ring. When I ask where he is, he says, “I’m here. Outside. I just saw you—and was that Lucy Rhodes?”
“We’ll talk later.”
“Was that her?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re fucking stupid.”
“Fuck you. I’m going to Clary. I’ll be back later. If you see her, Heath, you better—”
“By yourself?”
“What?”
“You’re going to Clary by yourself?” he asks.
“All by myself,” I tell him in a mocking tone, “just like a big boy.”
“Like hell you are. I’ll drive.”
“Fuck you.”
“A lot of ladies want to,” Heath says.
“I’m surprised there’s no one here.”
“Tonight. Big party. Show your girl a good time—right before you send her ass packing.”
I hang up on Heath and return to the kitchen, where Lucy looks about as blissed out as I’ve seen her so far. The sight of her indulging in my favorite meal makes me unable to refrain from grinning.
“Mora, have Pete show Lucy around when she’s finished.” I grab a lamp chop from the counter, smiling as I wrap it in a paper towel. “One for the road,” I tell the kitchen crew and Lucy. I lean down and plant a quick kiss on her head. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Outside, I find Heath leaning against the side of his gray Lambo. He scowls in my direction as I walk up to him. When I sit inside, he gives me a damning stare.