Page 22 of Light My Fire Three Times
“Glad you could make it,” I manage, the words stiff in my mouth.
Too formal, toorehearsed-sounding. But I need something to anchor myself, to keep my mind from spiraling out of control.
Livvy nods, her gaze flickering briefly to my beer bottle. “Wasn’t sure if I should come. But Ivy insisted, and she’s a tough one to say no to.”
I chuckle, but it’s forced. “Yeah, she’s got that big sister vibe down. Even though I’m older than her, she’s always been the boss.”
She laughs softly, and it’s a balm to my nerves, even though I can feel the heat between us simmering beneath the surface. “I can imagine.”
The rest of the group falls into some comfortable banter. Ivy and Mitchell start arguing over who had the worst week, while Timothy and Freddie engage in a debate about a random subject they’re into this week.
All this is happening with the babies crying every so often, and Penny bouncing around the living room, wild as a small tornado.
But me? I’m hyper aware of Livvy. Her every movement, the way her hair catches the light, the way she seems to fit in here despite everything.
I can’t escape the undeniable tension in the air, no matter how hard I try to focus on the conversation around me.
I grab another beer, needing something to dull the edge of the moment, and keep my eyes on the table.
As we eat, I focus on the conversation around the table. Ivy’s discussing the latest antics of the triplets, Mitchell is harassingTimothy about his tattoo failures, and Freddie’s giving his usual funny commentary on everything, including the food.
Yet, all I can hear is the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears and the occasional laugh from Livvy that makes my skin feel too tight.
I take a long gulp from my beer, hoping it’ll help, but the buzzing in my brain only intensifies. Every time I glance up, Livvy’s there. Her lips curving into that small, knowing smile.
She might as well be reading my mind. And I know, without a doubt, she knows what’s going on.
The way her eyes flicker to me when the conversation shifts, the way she holds my gaze for a beat too long. It’s driving me insane.
“So,” Freddie says, breaking the unbearable silence that’s started to creep in between me and Livvy. “Jesse, has it really been that shitty at work?”
I can just about manage an eye roll. “Same as usual. Lots of paperwork, you know?”
“Maybe you should give it all up and come and make coffee for us at the tattoo studio full-time,” Freddie chuckles.
I snort into my beer, caught off guard. “You’re kidding me, right? You want me to serve coffee to you guys while you work? I can barely handle a coffee machine.”
Mitchell laughs, elbowing me. “That’s true. I’ve seen you try to make coffee at the firehouse. It was a disaster.”
I grimace. “One time, okay? One time. And it was fine! It just… needed a little more sugar and less 'accidentally on purpose' burnt flavor.”
Freddie smirks, clearly enjoying this. “Practice makes perfect, though, right?”
Just as I’m about to respond, a loud crash from the living room cuts through the conversation, making us all jump.
Everyone at the table freezes, and for a split second, I think it’s just Penny bouncing off something, but then the unmistakable sound of a baby crying fills the room.
Not just one baby, but all three.
“Uh oh,” Ivy mutters under her breath, pushing her chair back quickly.
“Here we go,” Mitchell grumbles, in a playful tone. “What now?”
Timothy and Freddie both exchange looks, but they don’t budge. They’ve already accepted that this is just part of the gig now.
Livvy and I exchange a glance, and I can tell she’s trying not to smile at the chaos. But I can see it in her eyes, she’s a little thrown off by the sudden change in the atmosphere, too.
Ivy rushes out, and just as she’s disappearing into the hallway, Pickle, her unrelenting, overenthusiastic Frenchie, comes charging into the dining room as a hurricane. His tiny paws skitter across the floor as he barks up at Timothy, who groans.
