Page 43 of How to Write a Rom-Com

“You have such an infectious laugh,” I say, smiling at him.

I used to daydream about dating a guy like Liam. I spend my days reading books with heroes like him—ones with smiles that brighten a room and stop your heart at the same time, ones that make their heroines feel… like I do right now.

“Well, you’re the first one who has heard it in a while,” Liam says, kicking a rock in his path.

“Don’t say that,” I say, closing the gap between us.

“It’s true,” he says softly. “I know you’re not the type of girl who does confessionals, but you’ve changed things for me Lucy. I know I said it was fine up at The Point but—” he stops, both his speech and his stride, and turns to face me.

“What?”

Liam lets out a breath. “I’m really struggling with the fact that you’re leaving in two weeks.”

I swallow hard. I have to tell him the truth. I shouldn’t have gotten so close to him, it was selfish. As soon as I realized how much he was starting to mean to me, I should have told him everything. How would he react if I told him now? I’ve never seen Liam angry. I’ve seen him be silly with the twins, with me, I’ve seen him be a caretaker to his sister, a boss at the restaurant, and worker and a force for good in this town, but I’ve never seen what happens when someone crosses him. And I’m not sure I want to.

“Liam, I have to—” I start, just as my phone dings from my bag. “We must be back in the land of service,” I say sarcastically. My stomach relaxes and falls from its position in my chest.

“There goes my murder plot,” Liam says, snapping his fingers.

I take out my phone and see five missed calls from my mom. There’s also a text message:

Call me when you can.

Chapter Fourteen

My heart plummets into my stomach. Instinctively, my mind jumps to the worst-case scenarios. Was my dad in an accident? Did he have a heart attack? I told her I’d be out all day…

Liam watches me as I rapidly call my mom. I try to match his pace as we walk back to the car. I dial and watch him give Blue another drink of water, listening to the echoing of the dial tone.

“Lucy?” my mother finally answers. “Where have you been?”

“I was hiking and didn’t have any service,” I explain, trying to suppress my irritation at my mother constantly having to know where I am. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, honey. It’s Josie—”

I don’t hear much after that.

I make out the words “collapsed” and “hospital” and “London,” but my mother’s voice sounds distant, like when you’re underwater and everything is muffled. My fingers feel numb around the phone and I slide down against the Jeep, my legs folding like paper beneath me, my sneakers skidding across the gravel like sandpaper.

“Lucy?” I hear Liam’s voice, but I’m still under the water. I’m looking up and the view is blurry, like I can see him on the edge of the pool, the sun behind him, the ripples on the surface making the outline of his figure sway back and forth. “Lucy, look at me.” It’s finally his touch that snaps me back to reality. He reaches down and wraps his arms around my wrist, and my gaze falls to his tight grip. When I follow the trail of his arm, I meet his concerned gaze, his jaw in a tight line.

“Lucy?” my mom’s voice says in my ear. Liam nods reassuringly.

“Yeah, Mom. Sorry, I’m here,” I say, not breaking contact with Liam. I feel the warmth of his arms subside for a moment, only to feel his fingers thread through my free hand seconds later. “I’ll be in the car in an hour, I’ll get to you as fast as I can.”

“Honey, there’s no point in that. I can’t get a flight to London until tomorrow night, and the doctors say that she is stable now.”

“Mom, I need to see her,” I say, my voice weakening with every word.

“I know, Luce. But the doctors say she’ll make it through this, but the cancer may—”

Cancer.

“—be too far progressed at this point.”

My forehead falls to my knees. I’m not a crier—I never have been. Anne’s been pushing sob stories at me for years, but none of them ever make me crack. In this moment, all I want to do is cry. I want to feel the release of a sob coming out of my throat, of not being able to catch my breath, of my nose filling with phlegm and tears painting lines down my face. And yet, I’ve got nothing.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

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