Page 15 of Ashes of Us
"I keep thinking about the wedding cake leftovers in the fridge. They’re just sitting there in our… in his apartment. And I spent hours thinking about what buttercream would be best—” My voice cracked. "God, I'm crying about buttercream. That's pathetic."
"It's not pathetic. The buttercream is a metaphor."
"For what?"
"I don't know, I'm not an English major. But it's definitely a metaphor."
I laughed, the sound of it strangled and weak, but I laughed. And that’s when the doorbell rang. We both froze, chopsticks suspended mid-air.
Maya set down her food and stood up. "If that's my neighbor asking to borrow eggs again, I swear to God?—"
She walked to the door, and I heard her sharp intake of breath when she looked through the peephole. When she came back into the living room, her expression was somewhere between fury and disbelief.
"It's Liam."
My stomach dropped. Then immediately filled with something hot and sharp.
"Want me to tell him to fuck off?" Maya asked, already turning back toward the door. "Because I will absolutely tell him to fuck off. In great detail. With hand gestures."
"No." I stood up, setting down my food. "I'll talk to him."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." I was surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "I have some things to say."
Maya studied my face for a second, then nodded. "Okay. But I'm staying right here. If he tries anything—and I meananything—I'm calling his captain. Or the cops. Or both. Maybe animal control, just for fun."
"Maya."
"I'm serious. One wrong move and I'm reporting him for... public douchebaggery. That's a crime, right?"
God, how I loved my sister.
I walked to the door and pulled it open.
Liam looked like hell. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot, his clothes rumpled like he'd slept in them. Which he probably had. For a second there Ialmostfelt sorry for him.
Then I noticed the long dark hair on his shoulder. Caught the sharp, citrus scent of perfume. Not mine. Never mine.
"Were you with her?" The words came out cold and flat.
"What?" He blinked, confused. "No. Piper, I came here to talk to you?—"
"You have her hair on your shirt. And you smell like her perfume."
His hand went to his shoulder automatically, brushing at the hair like he could make it disappear. "She came over to check on me. That's it. Nothing happened."
"She came over." I crossed my arms. "To your apartment. This morning."
"Our apartment," he corrected, and I wanted to scream. "And yes, but I told her to leave. I told her I needed to talk to you, to fix things?—"
"Fix things." I laughed, sharp and bitter. "You think you can fix this?"
"Piper, please. Just listen to me." He stepped closer and I moved back instinctively. His face crumpled. "I know I fucked up. I know. But we can work through this. People make mistakes. We can go to counseling, we can… I don’t know, we can postpone the wedding if we need to, give ourselves time?—"
"Postpone the wedding."
"Just until we work things out. Until you're ready?—"
