“I’m . . . I’m gonna go now, so you guys can—”
“No need,” a voice says.
A voice? Ah. Yes. Right. There is a third person in the room. A beautiful woman with long dark hair, who’s still sitting on the counter, glancing with captivated interest between me and Liam, and . . .
“I was just about to leave,” she says. But it’s a lie. She was definitely not about to leave. “Right, Liam?” She and Liam exchange a silent, loaded look that I’d give half a kidney to be able to decipher.
“Oh, no. You don’t have to leave,” I say weakly. “I—”
“By the way, I’m going to introduce myself, since Liam here is clearly not going to.” She hops down with grace that I’ve seen only in ballet dancers and Olympic gymnasts before, and holds out her hand. I hate myself for trying to remember if it’s the same hand that was wrapped around Liam’s arm while her head was on his shoulder. “I’m Emma. You must be the famous Mara?”
Why she would know my name is an absolute mystery. Unless Emma and Liam are very serious, and then Liam would have mentioned his annoying roommate once or twice, and will you look at that? It appears that I just cannot bear the thought. “Yes. Um . . . Nice to meet you.”
Emma’s handshake is cool and firm. She smiles briefly, nice and self-assured, then turns to pick up her jacket from a stool.
“Well. This was fun. Informative, too. Mara, I hope we’ll meet a ton more times. And you . . .” She turns to Liam. Her voice drops lower, but I can still make out the words. “Cheer up, buddy. I don’t think you’re as doomed to a lifetime of pining as you think. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She’s not very tall and has to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, one hand pressing against his abs for balance, and if Liam minds having her up in his space, he doesn’t show it. Then there is a friendly wave, directed at me this time, a cheerful “Good night,” the sound of her heels against the parquet flooring on her way to the entrance, and then— Gone.
That noise was the front door opening and closing, which means that Liam and I are alone.
“Liam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”
“To?” He scratches the back of his neck, looking confused by my reaction. He’s still leaning against the counter, and I can’t make myself move away from the entrance. I can’t make myself continue and apologize for interrupting his date. I was going to leave. I promise. You guys could have continued in your room, Liam. I wouldn’t have minded.
Really.
“How did the presentation go?”
I look up from inspecting my shoes. “What?”
“Your presentation, today? For the lead position?”
“Ah.” Right. The presentation. The one I’ve been complaining about for days. The one I practiced with him yesterday. And the day before. The one he probably knows by heart. “Um, very good. Good. Well, okay. Passable.”
“It’s getting worse by the word.”
I wince. “It was . . . I stumbled a bit.”
“I see.”
“But maybe I still did better than Sean?”
“Maybe?”
“Probably.”
Liam smiles. “Probably?”
I smile back. “Almost certainly.”
“What a speedy improvement.”
I chuckle, and he pushes away from the counter and comes to stand right in front of me. Like he wants to be closer for this conversation. Closer to me.
“It’s bad news for you, though,” I say.
“Is it?”
“If I get this position, you’re going to have to step up and find a new job, too.”
“Ah. Yes.”
“We made a deal.”
“A deal is a deal.”
“Also, after the interview they gave us information on the salary. It’s a big raise. I’ll definitely be able to move out.”
His eyes harden, then switch back to a neutral mask. “Right.”
“What?” I tease him. “You afraid you can’t afford to buy your own creamer?” What does he even use it for? I still don’t know.
“Just concerned I’ll have to watch Eileen make terrible life choices on my own.”
“Eileen knows what she’s doing. As I explained in my last blog post.”
“Which I have, of course, read.”
He’s not funny. He’s not that funny. I’m not half in love with his weird sense of humor. “I can’t believe you commented ‘delete your account.’ It’s cyberbullying, Liam.”
He is still smiling, and there is something warm unfurling in my chest now. Which really shouldn’t be there, because . . . Because. “Are you and your friend . . . ?” I ask.
“My friend?”
“Emma.”
“Ah.”
Silence. I wring my hands, realizing that I haven’t really formulated a question. Is she your . . . No. Too direct. Are you two dating? And what is this hiccup in my heart as I contemplate the thought? Maybe Liam has never mentioned a girlfriend. Or any girl. But what did I think? That he was living in celibacy? It’s not my business, anyway. We’re just friends. Good friends. But friends.
“What?” He gives me a long look, like I just asked a preposterous question that’s not grounded in reality. The reality that I just walked in on him PDAing her.
“I thought you two . . . ?”
“No.” He shakes his head once. Then he shakes it again. “No, Emma is . . . We were in kindergarten together. And she . . . No. We’re friends, good friends, but nothing like that.”
“Oh.” Oh? Really? No way. Way?
“We’re just friends,” he repeats again. Like he wants to make sure I know it. Like he’s afraid that I don’t believe him. Which, to be fair, I don’t. Look at her. Look at him. “She’s actually . . . She knows that I . . .” He wipes a hand down his face, like he always does when he’s overwhelmed or tired. It’s a gesture I’m seeing more of lately. Because Liam has been letting me see more of him. They’re not all bad, the sharp edges and deep grooves of this man’s personality. Unexpected, but not bad at all.
“Knows that you?”
“That I don’t usually . . . I never . . . Well, almost never, apparently . . .” Liam shakes his head, as if to say Never mind, and I remain unsure as to what he almost never does, because he doesn’t continue and I’m not certain that I want to probe. Plus, he’s looking at me in a way I can’t understand, and I’m suddenly feeling like it’s time to skedaddle. “I’m gonna go to sleep, okay?” I smile. “I have an early morning, tomorrow.”
He nods. “Okay. Sure.” But when I’m almost out of the room, he calls after me. “Mara?”
I pause. Don’t turn around. “Yeah?”
“I . . . Have a good night.”
It doesn’t sound like what he originally meant to say. But I answer, “You, too,” and run back to my room anyway.
Chapter 9
One month ago
“I had lots of fun tonight.”
“Good. Thank you. I mean . . .” I clear my throat. “So did I.”