Page 141 of The Reno
Next to them, my dad’s draft plans for the house were on display, too.
A craft table and an easel with paint supplies were on the other side.
“This is for your interior design projects, but I found out you liked to paint watercolours when you were younger,” Liam said, his deep voice filling the room, “so I ordered you some paints.”
“How—”
“I asked Graham. I got his number from Brian, and he seemed more pleased to hear from me than your mum had been. He promised not to say anything to her. He sounded like he was living out his spy fantasies.”
“Why—why did you do this?”
“Call Graham?”
“No, all of this, the house. This office.”
“I like to think of it as a studio.” Liam scratched his head as hetook a deep breath. “When I asked you to come back. I realised I didn’t have anything to offer you.”
My face softened. “Liam—”
“I know—you’ll deny it. But you’re giving up this big life in London for me. So when you left and I was alone. Well, I couldn’t just sit on my arse. I needed something to do.”
“Other than opening a restaurant.”
Liam shrugged. “Ren was great with it, actually. He took on a lot more than I’d been expecting him to. He hasn’t dropped the ball once. So I spent a lot of time here when I wasn’t with Abi or at the restaurant. I just wanted to be able to give you something.”
I took a step forward, itching to touch him. Liam seemed to read my mind and stepped forward to pull me into him. My chin on his chest, I looked up at him.
Liam kissed my nose. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you speechless.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You met me at a funeral where I was literally speechless.”
Liam wrinkled his nose. “I don’t count that.”
“Yeah, because you were a dickhead.”
“I think you called me a prick, actually.” He smiled, and I laughed. “I think I probably fell in love with you then. You leaned out your window and called me a prick. That was it.”
I rolled my eyes but wanted to burst. Combust. So many emotions running through my body, I had no idea how to siphon through them.
Liam tugged at my hand. “Come on, there’s a lot more to see.”
“Don’t you have a soft opening to get to?”
He looked sheepish. “I may have given you the wrong timings on your invite.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re conniving when you want to be.”
His eyes burned into me. “I knew what I wanted, and I needed to make it happen. I’ll beg, steal and borrow if I have to. Now, come on.” He tugged at my hand. “I’ve been waiting to show you this for weeks.”
“But I want to stay with the bookcases,” I complained, staring at them like I was Gollum. “So pretty.”
Liam laughed. “I think you’ll like the kitchen more.”
“Am I dreaming?” I went to pinch myself. “I must be dreaming.”
I thought about my life at home since I moved back. The sadness I felt when I dropped my bags in the hall of Mum and Graham’s house—the feeling of defeat. I’d lost again. I’d failed. Another unsuccessful hobby I’d taken up and then dropped. Mum was right.
Then, I thought about living in Everly Heath. I’d never felt lighter or more at home. I’d been supported, even with the heaviness of my relationship with my dad, that flipping between grief and resentment. They’d rallied together and built me a fucking home. A proper home. Just like the one I’d imagined. And I think it was something like my dad had imagined when he’d drawn up those plans.
