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Mira smiling, reminding me so much of Amie that it knocked the breath from my lungs.
A song or a smell that stirred up memories of weekend hangouts at their house.
If he looked at me much longer, trying to untangle all the same things I was, I’d start crying in earnest.
As Byron showed us to a small table in the corner of his office, I graciously accepted his offer of coffee, which Liam waved away.
“Ahh,” Byron said. “You’d probably prefer tea.”
“Because Brits don’t drink coffee?” he asked, sarcasm thick in his accent.
Byron coughed. “Of course they do. My apologies.”
Liam shook his head. “It’s all right. I’m a bit on edge.”
I snorted, but it wasn’t quiet enough, because Liam pinned me with that glare again.
Instead of doing something really mature, like sticking my tongue out, I pinched my eyes shut and clasped my hands in my lap. When I opened them again, I studied what was in front of us. On the glossy table were two thick binders with Chris’s and Amie’s names printed on the spines in black ink, as well as two manila folders, each holding a handful of papers. There were also two pens. Expensive pens.
One tab had my name on it.
One tab had Liam’s.
My heart kick-started with a jerk. For a brief moment, I wondered if I’d pass the hell out right there at the fancy table, with the fancy lawyer and the asshole football player as my witnesses.
“This about the house they bought?” Liam asked. His eyes held a strangely hopeful gleam.
I had to blink at his sudden question. I’d almost forgotten about it, with all my focus on Mira.
The lawyer smiled. “No. The Michigan property was left to someone else,” he said. “One of Chris’s friends from college—Burke Barrett. I was just on the phone with him before our meeting.”
Liam’s jaw tightened, but he managed a short nod.
That hopeful gleam was gone. My gut screamed at me that this meeting was going to end up in a massive shitstorm, but there was no way to swerve out of the way.
Byron handed me the coffee as he took his seat, and I let the heat of the cup warm my frigid hands. Liam’s face was inscrutable, but he tracked Byron’s every move with interest.
I tore my gaze away from Liam’s rugged features, because even if I had areallygood guess as to what the lawyer was going to say, I wanted to watch him too.
Byron settled his hands on the table and let out a deep breath. “There’s no easy way to go about this, given the tragic loss of your friends.” He gave us both a sympathetic look, and I could see the kindness in his eyes. Already, my ribs squeezed uncomfortably tight. So did my throat. “But I think it’s best if we get straight to the point, and then I’ll answer any of the questions you might have.”
Liam shifted in the chair, clearing his throat in a show of nerves.
I set the coffee down, afraid to spill it on my lap, and then ran my hands through my hair.
Byron nodded. “Okay, then.” With crisp movements, he opened up the first manila folder and then the second, sliding one in front of each of us. “Even though their trust was extensive and it took us a couple weeks to get everything sorted, these few pages are what matter when it comes to both of you.”
I didn’t look. I didn’t need to.
Liam snatched up the folder before him, his mouth moving slightly as he read through the words. “Whatthe bloody hell?” he breathed.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I knew. Without Byron saying a word,I knew.
The lawyer gently cleared his throat. “The two of you were chosen by Chris and Amie to share guardianship of their daughter, Mira.”
I exhaled in a hard puff, then felt my ribs quaking as I tried to suck in a quick breath to fill my frozen lungs.
Liam snapped the folder shut and tossed it down on the table. “Absolutely fucking not,” he yelled.
