Page 29 of Izzy and Her Off-Limits Love

Oh, man. I really hope she’s not starting to have memory issues. “Mrs. Hartley, they’re fumigating our building, not making a movie. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No, no—the tent is just part of the movie set.” She laughs. “There are no bugs or believe you me, I’d have been out of here in a heartbeat.”

I think Liam catches on right as I do because his eyes go wide. I shake my head.

“Hang on—you were told someone is making a movie in our building, and that’s why the giant yellow tent is there?”

“Yes! Your aunt called me, so I assumed you knew, though you didn’t answer when I knocked on your door earlier.”

“You’re still at home?” I ask, my voice rising an octave.

“Of course I am,” Mrs. Hartley says. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I … cannot believe this. And yet, I can. From the start, all of this sounded just too weird.

“Mrs. Hartley, I’ve got to go. I don’t know anything about the movie, but if I hear any updates, I’ll let you know.” I end the call, and Liam and I stare at each other.

“They wouldn’t,” I say. “They didn’t.”

He nods. “They absolutely did. But why?”

Understanding dawns on his face, and he crosses the room to find his phone. When he returns, I’m glad he puts one hand back on my waist. Though the phone call has forcibly yanked me out of the happy Liam bubble, his hand on me promises that even though the moment ended abruptly, it’s just the beginning of what’s to come.

“When you went to college, did your parents use the Here I Am app?” Liam asks, pulling up the app on his phone.

I do the same. “Yep. We don’t use it as much, mostly just when I’m driving out to Oakley and Mer wants to check my location to see when I’ll arrive. Or sometimes she’ll check in and text me if she notices I’m somewhere fun. I kinda like knowing they always know where I am.”

“It’s fun, sure. But they’ve connected all our accounts. It isn’t just Merritt and your dad who can track your location. They all can. Same for me.” He takes my phone and holds it right next to his, the app open on both screens. His green dot and my yellow one are side by side, blinking in identical locations. “Which means …”

“They’ve known this whole time that we’re together,” I say just as Liam says, “They’ve been secretly matchmaking this whole time.”

NINE

Izzy

The next dayflies by in a glittery cloud of holiday cheer. But like, if glitter wasn’t annoying and holiday cheer is code for making out like teenagers.

We spend Saturday night and all day Sunday kissing in every room—and on most surfaces—in Liam’s apartment. If this were a scored competition, we’d get high marks for creativity and also stamina.

The only location we’ve avoided is Liam’s bed, something we haven’t explicitly talked about but seems to be a priority we both share. Despite knowing each other as well as we do, or maybebecauseof it, I don’t want to push things too far too fast. What’s the rush?

And with the way Liam kisses, I’m happy to just linger here in the kissing zone. Knowing his personality, he probably studied the physics and mechanics of making out. Though maybe it’s justhim. Or—us? I’ve wanted this for so long, and we have somuch connection that it really might just be shared history and friendship and trust deepening the emotional connection.

When we come up for air, we’re plotting.

Because there is no way we are letting our family get away with this. Not without serving a little side of comeuppance with Christmas Eve dinner.

After much discussion, we came to the conclusion that they were all in on it. Or at least most of them. Theyhadto be. Sadie might have been the mastermind of this specific part, which is very on brand for her, and Ben might have funded the fumigation tent, but they weren’t acting alone.

Our biggest piece of evidence? The fact that our family stopped talking to each of us about the other.

“It’s so dumb, and I can’t believe we didn’t see it,” I tell Liam, twirling pad thai noodles on my fork.

I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, eating off his coffee table, while he’s sprawled out on the couch, having scarfed down his yellow curry about two seconds after the delivery woman put it in his hand. I’m eating slowly because even though the “fumigation” is done, and I really should get home to my place before work tomorrow morning, I don’t really want to leave.

The idea of being in my empty apartment after spending the last few days with Liam feels so sad.

So I’m making a very valiant effort at a pad thai filibuster.

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