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He didn’t give me a chance to respond. “You want to know what I think, Goldie? I think it’s the same reason you keep the movie tickets from our first date in your wallet.”
My lungs seized then. He had seen them. He just…hadn’t said anything. Why?
“Or the same reason I renovated my entire house to fit a Pinterest board you started all the way back in high school.”
Heart in my throat, I flipped through mental images of his house. That tile did look familiar. He didn’t…There’s no way. I pulled up more details. The mirrors in his bathrooms and even the drawer pulls in his kitchen. He had. He genuinely had. The man had been creating a home for me even when I was cursing his name into the ground. Even when we were entirely hostile toward each other, or at least I was, he was out there referencing my old dreams to make his house what I wanted it to be. My heart raced faster, adrenaline pumping through me.
“You’ve always known, just like I have, that we’d end up right back here.”
He grasped my hips and tugged me toward him, then pressed his lips to mine. One hand gripped me tighter, and the other made its way to my throat, wrapping around it lovingly.
My body melted into his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
His kisses were so gentle, but his grip on my jaw was commanding, forcing my face to tilt to the right. I lifted onto my toes and clutched his broad shoulders, squeezing, assuring myself that this was real. Liam was here, kissing me like there was no tomorrow, a hand around my neck and another on my hip, holding me as if I’d ever pull away from this.
Had he always been such a good kisser? Had the countless memories of this raw chemistry between us really dampened so severely? Because this moment was better than any that had come before. No matter how perfect our love had been when we were young and foolish, this was better. This was stronger, more beautiful, undying, and eternal.
He groaned. I whimpered. Both desperate to take all we could get in this moment, because who knew when it would end? It felt just like our first kiss, but it could easily be our last.
As much as I wanted to revel in this moment of paradise, wrapped in Liam’s arms, lips swollen and heart full, I couldn’t help but dread what came next. The inevitable heartbreak.
I pulled back, and he followed, planting one more kiss along my jawline as I tried to wrap my brain around this.
Despite warning signals flashing in my mind, I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “We should probably go back, right?”
He never tore his focus from my mouth, but he nodded. “We should definitely go back.”
In that moment, with the longing in his eyes and his pulse racing at the base of his throat, I wasn’t sure whether he meant back to the house or back to the way things were before.
Ispent the next morning trying to remind myself of why I’d left in the first place.
It was self-sabotage at its finest. Because maybe if I could convince myself that Liam wasn’t truly this incredible, kind, big-hearted, giant-forearmed man, then it would allow me to rebuild my walls and fortify them so I wouldn’t give in to sweet words and kind gestures again.
Last night, after the kiss—if something so monumental could be given such a trivial label—Liam and I rode back to the house like nothing had happened. And for the rest of the night, we avoided direct eye contact with each other and with Liam’s family.
Mama B, of course, managed to catch my eye and give me a smile that said she was two seconds away from pulling out our wedding photos and placing them next to Luke and Layla’s in the living room. Dang, she was good. She knew us both too well.
On the drive home, with the boys passed out in the back seat, Liam kept giving me these shy little smiles. Like he was relishing the secret we shared, even if we had no idea where to go from here.
I still hadn’t made my point to him. It was easy to get caught up in chemistry and physical attraction, but what happened when the storm came and our foundation wasn’t solid? Had Liam even considered the what-ifs? Maybe he had and didn’t care.
Mind in a state of battle all morning, I attempted work as usual, bopping around the salon with half my brain thinking heck, just go for it and the other half thinking put on the brakes, missy. The latter one felt more right, but it annoyed me.
“That wall must be mighty interesting.”
I slid my attention from said wall and moved it to my tiny yet incredibly grumpy boss. If she could really be called that. At this point, she was more like my life coach.
“I’m just overthinking stuff,” I mumbled.
“No kidding. You’re digging a hole in that chair.”
Cringing, I looked down. Sure enough, I was clinging to the salon chair so tightly my knuckles were white and I’d left crescent moon–shaped indents in the vinyl. I dropped my head back and sniffled to keep my eyes from welling with tears. I’d paid an absurd amount of money for this mascara at Rachel’s recommendation, and I would not let it go to waste.
“Sorry, Cind. I’ll fix it.”
She swatted at my hand and sat next to me. “Hush. That chair needs to be replaced anyway.”
She’d only bought it a year ago, but I didn’t bother saying that. Cindy showed her love in physical ways, certainly not verbal.
