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When he walks me to my car and leaves me with a good night kiss on the forehead, I daydream and hum the whole ride home like some schoolgirl whose crush noticed her for the first time.
It’s the best night I’ve had in ages, and even if I won’t label it to him, easily the best first date I’ve ever been on.
12
LIAM
Showing up at Gabrielle’s door less than twenty-four hours after what I consider our first date is probably not what I meant by giving her space and going slow, but I can’t help it.
Being able to sit and talk to her without the intensity of our secret moments is like a warm cup of coffee filling up my soul. It gives me energy and satisfaction and feels like slipping into a place I could call home. I want that feeling every second of every day, which is why I went back on my word a little and showed up here after my day was done.
The bouquet of daffodils in my hand is meant to placate her, maybe even charm her a little, for showing up unannounced on her porch. My stomach flutters with nerves, and damn if this woman doesn’t make me act unlike I ever have for any other female. As I ring the doorbell, I pray to the heavens that this isn’t a mistake.
A few seconds later, Gabrielle appears in the glass column window next to the front door, confusion on her beautiful, makeup-free face. When she opens it, there is a spoon in her hand. Glancing down her body, I take in the tight white cropped T-shirt and fuzzy dark green sweat shorts she’s wearing. They fit her knockout body like a glove while also looking completely relaxed and comfortable, and by the look of it, she has no bra on. It takes a concerted effort not to lock my eyes on her nipples, rosy and pink through the material, so I direct them to the slim gold anklet wrapped around the bottom of her leg. Something about a piece of jewelry there makes me go hard, as if I don’t all the time around her, but it’s so simple yet enticing on her mile-long limbs.
“Liam, what are you doing here?”
It’s the second time she’s asked me the question in so many days, but her tone doesn’t sound annoyed, so I’ve got that going for me.
“I wanted to check if your hand was okay.” I extend the flowers and she blushes.
“It’s okay, feels a little sore and I’m definitely bruising, but I’ll be fine.” She holds up said hand, and some of her fingers are clearly purple with bruises. “Looks nastier than it feels.”
“Good.” I stuff my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her.
Something about standing in the same place as her makes me want to attack her lips, as if it’s a physical response I can’t stifle no matter how many times I’m near her. She’s my high, and kissing her makes it feel like I can breathe.
“Do you want to come in?” Gabrielle poses the question as if she’s trying to consider whether she actually wants me to.
“Only if you’re okay with that. Or don’t have any company. Shit, I probably should have called or something before I just showed up.”
Nerves are getting the better of me the longer we stand out here. Plus, I couldn’t call her. I don’t have her number. When living in a small town, with access to other people’s number who could easily provide hers, I guess I never asked for it. I know that, before recently, she wouldn’t want me to have it.
Number one goal for tonight: get Gabrielle’s phone number.
“Liam,” she laughs lightly, “come inside. It’s okay. I just opened a pint of mint chip ice cream and was watching a show, if that sounds rousing to you.”
Being in the same room with her is the most excitement I’ve ever had, so that’s a yes.
Following her into her grandmother’s old condo, I noticed Lucy’s touches everywhere. While the row of houses is nice and even upscale, newer builds for Hope Crest, this is definitely a home that was owned by an older woman. There are antique plates hung on the wall, a collage of old black-and-white photos going up the stairs, a maroon couch that looks to be out of the eighties, and a TV so big and bulbous, I’m sure you can’t even get spare parts for it anymore.
“It’s not the trendiest of digs, but it does the job.” She laughs as I survey our surroundings.
“It must be nice to be among her things, even if she’s not here anymore.” The words pop out of my mouth before I realize it.
Gabrielle tilts her head to the side, trying to digest my message. “It is, actually. I didn’t know my grandmother very well for most of my life. When she died, I felt like there were so many stories she still had to share with me. Being here, discovering her things, it’s been a revelation of sorts.”
“I get that. My grandfather died ten years ago. He was …”
A tsunami of emotions hit me at my mention of Nonno. I don’t talk about him often, to anyone except his longtime wife—my nonna—but doing so always opens up this chasm of loss in my chest. He was my best friend, and when he passed, I felt unmoored. Still do in certain ways, if I’m being honest.
Gabrielle isn’t touching me, but she’s standing closer now, and her big green eyes nearly swallow me whole. “I’m sorry. Death is never easy, no matter how close our connection. But I’d venture to say it’s even worse when they’re so intertwined in who you are as a person.”
She can’t know how close to hitting the nail on the head she is, but I try to breathe through my nose as I nod.
A screeching sound on the very out-of-date television distracts both of us, and we turn our heads.
“Is this the episode where they go to that island and the one girl melts down over the other girl accidentally eating her steak at dinner?” I point to the TV as the familiar cast of characters dances across it.
