Page 38 of I Can't Even

“I’m sure we’ll work it out. She’s very understanding,” he said.

“She’d have to be,” I said. Nope, not letting it go.

Liam straightened, irritation stiffening his spine before he walked around me to the bedroom door. He put his hand on the knob and turned back, saying oh so casually, “It’ll be fine, especially since I’m asking her to marry me and all.”

Boom.

He opened the door and walked through it, closing it softly behind him. I snatched up the pillow from the floor and hurled it after him. It bounced off the door and fell to the floor much like my heart. I stood staring at the closed door for a moment and then I picked up the pillow, tossing it on the bed. No. This was not over. Not even close.

Two hours later, I was sitting in a chair beside Babs’s divan—funny how no one ever sat there anymore—sipping tea and brooding when the door banged open. A ridiculous part of me hoped it was Liam, which was stupid since he didn’t exactly have a key, now did he?

I heard the click of heels on the tile foyer and then a handbag sailed into the great room, landing with a thump against the wall before it slid to the floor. Next a pair of legs came into view wearing boots that I was quite sure I had never seen before. They were black patent leather platform stilettos that went all the way up to mid-thigh, specifically Em’s thighs. She strode into the room, pairing the boots with a micro-mini skirt that outlined her butt. Huh. Little sis had booty, who knew?

Over the skirt, Em wore a cropped white halter top that showed off her toned mid-drift and her small but perky cleavage. The only thing she had on for warmth, aside from the boots, was a long black crocheted sweater with lacy accents. I squinted at her. I had never seen Em in anything other than Babs’s chosen outfits which were an homage to 1980s preppy housewife chic. While I admired Em for breaking away from headbands and Bermuda bags, she looked like she should be working a corner.

“Who are you and what have you done with my baby sister Em?” I asked.

“The name is Emily,” she said.

Em slid herself onto the divan and crossed her boots at the ankles. Well, so much for the sacred space. She closed her eyes and I noted the dark circles beneath her lashes. She was either utterly drained or possibly sauced.

“I’m guessing you didn’t wear this outfit to work,” I said. She ignored me. “Been doing some shopping?”

“Something like that.” Em didn’t open her eyes or elaborate.

Irritation battled with empathy inside of me. Of all of us, Em was taking Babs’s death the hardest. I knew I needed to be patient and yet the desire to shake her was really strong. I opted to try some humor and see if that sparked a little life in her.

“So what’s with the new duds, exactly?” I asked. “Planning a new profession, one that involves swiveling around a pole in a G-string by chance?”

“Shut up, Jules.” Em rolled away from me, pressing her face into the fabric of the couch.

I stared at the back of her head. Em was twenty-five years old. She’d just lost her mother, her best friend. I needed to be here for her and not beat her up about her current fashion choices. Clearly, she was going through stuff.

When I heard her emit a soft sigh, I rose from my seat and went into the kitchen where I texted Soph to let her know Em was home and seemingly still pissed at us. I did not mention the outfit.

When I returned to the living room, Em was snoring. Not super loud, just the exhausted deep breathing of a person who’d spent the entire day running away from herself. I got that, too.

I pulled a thick aqua afghan off an armchair and tucked it around Em so that she was completely covered. We could talk about this, whatever this was, tomorrow.

Back upstairs in my room, I was hit with the lingering scent of Liam. How had he managed to fill my bedroom with his particular scent of sea and sunshine? I glanced at the rumpled covers on my bed and actually debated going back downstairs and crashing in the chair beside Em.

He was seeing someone, but he’d made love to me. How could he do that? Had he lied just to put distance between us? That seemed highly likely, especially as I had never seen this supposed girlfriend.

It didn’t matter. I had things to tell him, important things, things that I probably should have told him nine years ago, and definitely before we got naked but, hey, it had been a really long time, and I’d been watching him for days. A girl could only take so much hotness before she got a little mental and, honestly, impulse control had always been one of my bigger issues.

I crossed the bedroom to look out across the yard. His window was dark. Not a big surprise given that his nightly workout had happened over here instead. Just the thought of it made me a little dizzy. How could he be so dismissive of what had happened between us?

I was no expert but there was a connection there that seemed to span years, miles, hurt, and betrayal. But maybe I saw it that way because I was the betrayer and not the betrayed. I so desperately wanted to tell him why I had left and explain that it hadn’t been what it seemed, that I was given no choice, but I had no idea how to get his attention and keep it, you know, while fully clothed, long enough for him to listen to me.

When designing websites, I knew the single most important feature was navigation. If a site was too hard for a user to page through, then it needed to be simplified with an intelligent use of space and a clear layout.

I stared at Liam’s window. Surely, chasing a man could not be that much different than designing a slick website, right? Nervous flutters erupted in my belly as I contemplated my crazy idea. I would use the tools at hand, Em’s boots sprang to mind, and manipulate the space between Liam and me so that he became accustomed to seeing me in his world. My invasion would be constant, relentless, and yet, with enough pull back to make him miss me when I wasn’t there. Either that, or I’d have him nervously looking over his shoulder, waiting for me to spring out at him. That mental picture made me laugh.

Yeah, I supposed I could do as Liam wished and let him have the last word, breaking things off between us forever. But I was a bit too contrary to be that accommodating, especially because if this woman he was seeing really did exist, it was as obvious to me as the nose on my face that she could not possibly be the love of his life. Firstly, because that was me, and secondly, because there was no way he could have been with me the way he had if he was head over heels for someone else. No freaking way.

There were years of hurt in between us, yes, but the Liam I had known would never, could never, be with me like that if he didn’t still have feelings for me. Even if they were really angry feelings right now, they were still feelings, and that was as good a starting place as any.

Chapter Thirteen

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