Page 21 of One Room Vacancy
“No, come on in,” I deadpan, closing the door behind him.
He’s been a walking cloud of gloom lately, so the sudden cheeriness throws me off. I narrow my eyes. “Okay, what’s with the musical number? Did you win the lottery? Get laid? Join a cult?”
“Hannah’s coming home next week,” he says, grinning like he can’t help it.
Of course. Hannah Thatcher-Miles—his long-time nemesis-turned-girlfriend. It still trips me out sometimes, how fast that flipped. But he’s better for it, happier, lighter. And despite everything, I like seeing him like this.
He launches into a ramble about her tour—some musical, nearly wrapped—and how she’ll be back in Atlanta soon. I half-listen, but a selfish thought worms its way to the front of my mind.
“She’s not…moving back in here, is she?” I ask, gesturing vaguely around the apartment I just moved into.
Liam barks a laugh. “Here? Hell no. She’s moving in with me…or she will be once I talk her into it. Until then, she’s crashing at Jackson’s.”
“Makes sense.”
Liam’s eyes scan the dim room, taking in the empty furniture and the stillness of the air. “Where’s Sage?” he asks, turning to me.
“I think she has a shift at Harry’s,” I reply honestly. She didn’t tell me her plans; she has barely spoken to me in days and disappears without a word. But seeing the familiar Harry’s T-shirt on her when she left made me assume.
“How’s that going so far?” Liam asks. It’s a seemingly innocuous question, but, given how it’s been going, I find myself taking the defensive.
“Fine.” It comes out a bit snippy.
Liam doesn’t typically pry. That has always been one of the reasons our friendship works so well: we don’t pry, at least not usually.
“It seems tense.” Apparently, today is not the usual.
“Yeah.” The hallmark of a one-word answer is that it is usually a not-so-thinly veiled hint to leave the topic alone, but Liam Park doesn’t have the same understanding of social clues that the normal person does.
“Did something happen with you guys?”
The question causes me to freeze. It isn’t that I make a habit of lying to Liam or withholding information, but this has always been something that Sage and I agreed not to tell people. Primarily because our friend group is far too nosy and neither of us really cares to have our personal lives become brunch talk fodder.
But I don’t want to lie, so I say nothing. I just walk toward the kitchen and open the fridge.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask.
Liam’s gaze lingers on me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Eventually, he nods and follows me into the kitchen. I grab two bottles of beer and hand one to him, the condensation instantly wetting my palms. As we both take a sip, I can’t help but feel grateful for his lack of prodding.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Liam speaks up again. “You know, you can tell me anything, right? I’m here for you. I know I wasn’t exactly supportive when you were with Kara, but that is because we both knew you could do better.” His words are gentle, filled with genuine care, which doesn’t come as a surprise. I glance up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. I know he cares; that’s never been the problem.
I set my bottle down before letting out a sigh and resting my palms against the harsh edge of the countertop. “We fucked.” Isay it matter-of-factly, but I don’t have the energy or interest in sugarcoating what I’m saying.
Liam clearly didn’t expect that to come out of my mouth—he chokes on his beer halfway down his throat.
He coughs for about a minute before composing himself, his eyes wide as he stares at me. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Don’t play dumb. It’s unbecoming of you.” I roll my eyes.
“Dude, when?” Liam’s shock is palpable, the air heavy with unspoken words.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself before continuing. “It was a few months ago—at least…the last time it happened,” I admit, feeling a weight lift off my chest as the truth spills out. “After Gen and Jackson’s rehearsal dinner, we both ended up back at her room.”
The memories flood back, unwelcome but persistent. I can still taste the bitterness of regret in my mouth. Not for sleeping with Sage—quite the contrary, in fact. She is about the only thing I don’t regret, but how I handled it afterward was…horrible.
Liam runs a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of disbelief and concern. “Last time? How many times has that happened?” he asks as his eyes go wide and he searches mine for answers.
“I don’t know.” I rub my brow, a bit uncomfortable with the forthcoming nature of this conversation. “Half a dozen times, give or take.”
