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Once upon a time, wearing a Washington shirt or sweatshirt or hat was a lighthearted joke. Something Chris teased me about endlessly. Something that always garnered a reaction out of Liam.
But it didn’t feel so funny today.
I crossed my arms tight across my chest. It wasn’t much of a barrier, but it was better than nothing.
The receptionist smiled, undeterred by the cloud of foreboding that wafted in after Liam. “Mr. Davies, if you’d like to take a seat, Byron will be out in a moment to meet with you and Mrs. Valentine.”
“Miss,” I corrected. They both looked down at my bare ring finger. “It’s Miss Valentine,” I said. “Or Zoe. No Mrs. ...” My voice trailed off, and they were both staring at me. I cleared my throat as I tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
Liam’s eyes narrowed, and after a brief hesitation, he took a seat, leaving one open in between us. His legs, covered in black athletic joggers, were about a million miles long when he stretched them out in front of him. He settled his hands over his trim waist, and I studied him openly. His Denver shirt stretched over his chest, the sleeves snug around his thick arms, where the ink-covered skin never failed to do annoyingly fluttery things to my stomach. Even now, even with everything, I saw the tattoos and felt that flutter. The last time I’d seen himwas at the funeral; I’d caught a brief glimpse of him standing in the back by his teammates, a row of dark suits and somber expressions.
The difference for Liam was that his expression always looked funereal.
Silence stretched between us, so tense that I could practically feel it snapping at the edges. I rolled my lips between my teeth and fought the urge to pick at my nails again. My mind was clogged with racing thoughts, and I could hardly make sense of a single one.
Why would he be here too?
I tried to recall my conversation with Amie, when she’d told me about the plans they were making ... in case.
There aren’t very many people I’d trust to raise my daughter, Zoe. You’re one of them.
The remembered statement, accompanied by a very inconvenient flashback of the day Mira was born, had my stomach churning.
But that couldn’t mean . . .
Oh gawd, it could.
Itcould.
Behind my ribs, my heart clanged awkwardly, unable to settle into a normal rhythm.
Liam closed his eyes, tipping his head back to exhale audibly. “If you don’t stop staring at me, I’m going to lose it,” he muttered under his breath.
Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes. “Hi, Liam. It’s nice to see you too. I’ve been okay the last couple weeks,” I said smoothly.
His eyes opened, snapping over to mine. It was almost impossible not to want to shrink back from the force of that gaze. But I refused to give in. For so many years, we’d existed in a space of snarky back-and-forth, something that straddled an indefinable line. It wasn’t flirting, but it wasn’t outright disdain either.
“Mira is fine,” I continued. “I’m so glad you asked. Your concern for your goddaughter is overwhelming.”
It wasn’t my most gracious opening. Even if it came from a never-ending pool of grief, a place of little sleep and lots of stress, I fought the urge to apologize, barely managing to swallow it down.
Liam leaned in, the roped muscles of his arms popping underneath his white Denver T-shirt as he did. “Zoe,” he said, voice low and smooth, “I know you well enough that I’m not going to sit here and spew bullshit niceties when I don’t want to be here. I don’t know what this is about, but your presence makes it seem about a hundred times more complicated than I’d like it to be.”
My pulse thundered in my ears because ... I wasn’t even surewhyI was having such a visceral reaction. It was almost like his brutal honesty made the air around us vibrate with a higher frequency, something that couldn’t be comfortably sustained.
The waiting room had seemed dark before, with no windows letting in any of the Colorado sun. But with the addition of Liam, it was like someone dimmed the lights even further.
I sat back in my seat, mimicking his posture by crossing my arms over my waist. My legs weren’t nearly as long as his, so I kept one crossed over the other.
As I usually did when I had nothing to distract me, I thought about Mira. The responsibility of raising her.
And this meeting would likely change every single thing I’d planned. There was no other reason he’d have us both here.
My hands trembled, and I clenched them together tightly to keep it from being obvious.
The door to the office opened, and a tall, thin man wearing wire-rimmed glasses greeted us with a reserved smile. We stood as he approached, and he shook Liam’s hand, then mine. “I’m Byron Cogswell. Our firm took over Chris and Amie’s trust after their last lawyer retired. I apologize that it took us a couple weeks to get everything sorted out. It’s been ... hectic,” he said with a sad look in his eyes. “Please join me in my office, and we’ll get started right away.”
For a brief moment, I locked eyes with Liam. He towered over me, and the thoughtful look on his face was just about my undoing. It didn’t take much to make me cry these days.
