Page 57 of Stuck with my Guarded MVP
And then we stood there again. The moment had pressed pause on the world around us.
And all I could think was:This. This is what I want.
Then the quieter thought beneath it:
Why can’t I find someone like Liam?
Home, Almost
Liam
Irubbed a hand over my face and stared at the window. For a moment, I didn’t move. Just listened to the faint hum of the fridge, the occasional pipe knock, the hush before morning got started.
I sat up slowly and blinked at the narrow blade of light cutting through the curtain. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and planted my elbows on my knees. The last few days had been... a lot. I ran the tape—Maeve’s call, dinner with candles, the hug, the churro sugar on Claire's lips.
I stood, tugged on a T-shirt, and headed for the kitchen. Coffee. That was a good place to start.
As the machine sputtered to life, I leaned against the counter and let my eyes roam the room. Claire’s mug was on the drying rack. The one with the chip on the handle she never seemed to mind.
I opened the fridge. Neat rows of leftovers. Labeled, of course, in her tidy handwriting.
I exhaled through my nose. Right. Back to normal.
I grabbed the yogurt, peeled it open, and stared at it like it might give me a blueprint for the rest of the day.
The hug. I didn’t want to let go. And she hadn’t pulled away.
I took a bite of the yogurt. Vanilla. Too sweet. I finished it anyway.
A door creaked behind me. Light footsteps headed down the hallway.
“Morning,” Claire said, her voice still soft from sleep.
"Morning."
I turned. She wore a loose hoodie and leggings. Hair tied up. No makeup. And somehow, she looked more composed than I felt.
"Hey," I said. "Can you explain what’s going on with Maeve? I mean, I know you said the diagnosis was good, but what does that actually mean? I should’ve asked yesterday. I too overwhelmed to hear any more.”
Claire tilted her head, walking slowly toward the counter. "It means she’ll be okay. Overactive thyroid can mess with a lot, mood, energy, even muscle control, but it’s manageable. She’llprobably need meds and regular monitoring. I plan on calling her today."
I nodded, setting the spoon in the sink. Claire reached for the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. Without asking, she set a second mug in front of me. My usual one.
I took it. "Thanks."
She took a slow sip. So did I.
Claire leaned back against the counter, both hands wrapped around her mug. I took another sip of coffee, letting the silence stretch for a beat.
“I’ve got a road trip coming up,” I said finally. “Three games. We leave tomorrow.”
She glanced over. “How long will you be gone?”
“Five days. Montreal, Detroit, Pittsburgh.” I tapped the rim of my mug. “It’s not exactly a vacation.”
She nodded, eyes thoughtful. “That’s a tough stretch.”
But this time, it wasn’t just three cities, three hotels, many bus rides, multiple flights.
