Page 39 of Trusting You
“Or in jail. Or had been kidnapped.”
“Mom, stop. You know I was at the brewery late last night.”
“I texted you dozens of times. Could you at least return your mother’s texts? Is that too much to ask?” Oh Lord, she was laying on the guilt.
“Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t call or text. I was just so tired after the long day.”
“Your sister says I’m overreacting and you are a grown woman. But this is not like you, Cecelia. You were always the dependable one who texted.”
“Mom, I’m really sorry, okay. I was tired and I crashed.”
“Where? Where did you crash?”
“Um…” I wracked my brain about what to say to her.
“Do not even think about lying to me. I called Nora, and I know you aren’t at her place.”
Shit fuck shit.
“Well. We had to stay late cleaning the brewery last night, and there was a lot to do. So I ended up crashing at”—I took a breath—“Liam’s.”
“Liam Quinn?”
“Yes, Mom. How many Liams do you know?”
Her tone changed. I could practically see the grin on her face over the phone. “Oh, really? This is so interesting.”
“No, it’s not, Mom. He is my boss and my friend.”
“Huh. I mean I certainly thought this was possible, especially the way he looks at you. But, wow, I figured he would be too chicken to make a move. Good for him.”
“Mom, stop. It’s not like that. I can hear the wheels turning in your head. Don’t go there. I just slept here, and I am going to be home soon. I am so sorry for worrying you.”
She had clearly gotten over her “dead in a ditch” theory pretty quickly. She sounded like a cat who got the canary. “Well, I have a lot of things to do. I assume you will come home for fresh clothes at some point?”
“Yes, Mom, I live there.” This was beyond embarrassing. I’d rather have her yelling at me about being irresponsible than giddy over the prospect of me and Liam. “And what things to do? It’s nine o’clock on a Sunday morning. I know you. You are going to hang up with me and then call everyone you know.”
She huffed with faux indignation. “I would do no such thing.” She was blatantly lying. I knew she was sitting in the sunroom with the cat on her lap, positively vibrating with her need to gossip. She would love nothing else than to call up my second-grade teacher, my softball coach, and the owner of the shoe store to tell them I was boning Liam Quinn.
“So, just out of motherly curiosity, does this mean you and Liam are an item?”
“What does that even mean, Mom? And no. We are not an item. Why aren’t you hearing me?”
It was then that I realized I was standing in the middle of Liam’s bedroom, stark naked, and yelling at my mother on the phone like a teenager. I looked over to where Liam was leaning in the doorway smirking. He had the good sense to put on a pair of gray sweatpants but was thankfully still shirtless.
I looked at him with exasperation. He strode over to me, all cocky and confident, and plucked the phone out of my hand.
“Hello, Mrs. Leary.” I could hear her voice go up an octave on the other end.
He started pacing. “Well, thank you. I appreciate that. It was a big success, in large part due to the work Cecelia did. She really pulled it off, don’t you think?”
After a pause, he continued. “Yes. Thanks for the feedback. I will speak to the caterers about adding a vegan schnitzel option next year. That’s an excellent suggestion.”
He vigorously nodded and continued to pace around the small room. I could see his shoulders tense.
“Yes, Mrs. Leary. I understand. Yes, it was irresponsible. No, it was my fault. I made her stay very late to clean up. Things were a mess, and there was a lot of work to do. Of course I will fairly compensate her for her overtime. No, I am not an unfair boss.”
I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she was using her lecture tone of voice.Good luck, Liam.
