But the selfish part of me…my heart…doesn’t care.
My heart wants to be with him for every single moment I have before it’s time for me to go.
My heart wins out.
I’m not usually selfish…well, not since my selfish acts caused the loss of my family.
Maybe my heart is just stronger now because my brain is sick. It’s making me weak.
I can only hope that my selfishness doesn’t hurt Liam.
“We’re good for as much time as you need here,” he says to me.
“Your grandpa isn’t expecting you?”
“I’ll text him and let him know that we’re running a little behind schedule.”
“You told your grandpa I was coming?”
“I called him while you were in the shower.” He glances at me and smiles. “He’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting him, too.” I smile.
Liam navigates the car, following the signs for the English Faculty Library. When we reach the building, he slows the car to a stop and parks up on the street outside of it.
“The university is probably pretty much closed up for the summer,” he says, turning off the engine.
Then, he pulls his cell out of his pocket and starts tapping. I’m assuming he’s texting his grandpa.
He continues, still texting, “But I’m sure there are some summer classes, so if we’re lucky, the doors might be open, and we can have a look around. Then, we can check out the politics department where your mom would have studied. Maybe have a walk around the grounds. How does that sound?” He puts his cell back in his pocket and looks at me.
I press my lips together. Emotions are choking me. I clear my throat. “Sounds perfect.” Like you.
Liam opens his door and climbs out of the car. I follow suit. Leaving my handbag behind, I meet Liam at the front of the car. He locks it using the key fob.
Then, he puts his hand out for mine. I place my palm against his. Liam threads his fingers through mine, and the riot of emotions I was feeling calm at his touch.
It surprises me. Nothing has been able to calm the way I feel inside when it comes to my family. But with the simple touch of Liam’s hand, the pain that always comes when I think of them seems manageable in that moment.
The sign says the building is called the St. Cross Building. Liam and I walk up the steps. I think of my dad walking up these steps every day, going to work.
Liam tries the door. It opens. He gives me a smile of success.
I follow him into the building. The smell reminds me very much of a library filled with old books.
It reminds me of my dad.
“Where to first?” Liam asks.
“Let’s just…walk,” I tell him.
So, we do. We just wander the halls, and I think of my dad being here.
Liam opens the door to a lecture theater just a crack. “Empty,” he tells me in a whisper.
“Why are you whispering?” I whisper back.
“I have no clue.” He laughs.
He opens the door, letting me in first.
It’s a large lecture theater, and we’re on the ground level.
I look at the floor before me and the row of seats going up, wondering if my father ever lectured in here. I close my eyes and let myself hear his voice.
“Taylor, words and the ability to write…they are the guide in life that God gifted us with.”
Liam’s hands touch my shoulders from behind. I open my eyes and look back at him.
“Okay?” he checks.
“Yeah.” I lift my lips into a half-smile. “Just remembering.”
We leave the lecture theater and come across the library.
Liam tries the door, and it opens. “Must be our lucky day.” He grins. “Ladies first.” He stands aside, gesturing me through.
Even though being here is hard, it is impossible not to smile at him.
We venture into the library, which is empty, except for us.
I head straight for the book stacks with Liam following behind me.
“Do you read much?” I ask him as we walk beside the shelves, my fingers trailing over the books stacked on them.
“Not as much as I should.” He chuckles. “You?”
“I try to.”
“I haven’t seen you with a book in your hand since you’ve been here.”
I give him a glance over my shoulder. “You’ve been keeping me busy.”
“True.” He gives a wicked grin.
“I studied English lit during my undergrad,” I tell him.
What I don’t tell him is how I ghosted through those years, living in the stories of others, just to get through each day. I only went to college because I had applied and been accepted before my family died.
“Following in your dad’s footsteps?”
“Mmhmm.” That was true a long time ago. I wanted to be an English professor like my dad.
That option isn’t available to me anymore.
“So, when you go back to Boston, that’s what you’ll do—get your master’s and become a professor like he was.”