Page 144 of Tell Me It’s Right

“Thanks,” I murmur, probably too quietly to hear over the surrounding chaos.

He says nothing else, and neither do I. This is the first moment we’ve been alone today, and it has adrenaline coursing through my body as if I’m about to jump out of an airplane. Somehow he went from the person I was the most comfortable around to making me so nervous I feel like I’m about to be sick. I can’t tell if it feels the same for him—if he’s feeling much of anything at all right now. His expression is normal, calm. We work in silence as I rinse each dish then hand it to him.

It’s sohotin here from the oven being on all morning, and standing this close to Liam isn’t helping. God, I feel like I can’t breathe. And every time I feel him look at me, the tightness in my chest gets worse.

Once the bulk of the work is done and people start drifting to the couch, Liam tilts his head toward the back door.Oh God, this is happening now.I nod and step onto the patio first, desperately breathing in the cold air.

The noise fades to the background as the door closes behind me, and I pace away from the view of the windows and shake out my hands, trying to calm myself. I crane my head back as a few flurries find their way to my cheeks. It’s barely snowing now, just some stray flakes swirling in the breeze.

Christine decorated here too, though it’s not as gaudy as the front of the house. Orange string lights are wound around the railing and a few of the trees in the yard. It makes everything glow. Even I have to admit, something about it feels magical and warm.

The chatter inside doubles in volume as the door opens again. His footsteps crunch softly through the snow as he makes his way toward me. Wordlessly, he drapes his jacket over my shoulders.

I turn to meet his eyes. I don’t know what I expect to see there—indifference, discomfort.

Anything but this soft warmth. Like nothing happened. The way he looked at me before.

I curl my fingers around his jacket and pull it tighter around me. “Thank you.”

He bobs his head once and steps up beside me against the railing, not quite touching me but close enough it makes me ache that he’s not.

“How are you?” I ask. “How’s the shop been doing?”

He cracks half a smile. “Promise I haven’t screwed up all your hard work yet. How have you been? How’s the job?”

I bump his shoulder with mine. “I know you’re being modest. I’ve seen how well it’s doing.”

“Ah, so you’ve been stalking me.” He grins like he’s genuinely delighted by this. “AndIhappen to know things have been going pretty well for you too. At least based on your website and the reviews.” He tilts his head. “And all the additions to your portfolio.”

My chest warms, melting away a layer of the nerves.He’s been keeping tabs on me too.“Oh, so now who’s the stalker?”

His grin widens, but the amusement in his eyes fades. “But how have you been, really?”

Embarrassment tinges the tops of my ears as I remember the last time we talked—when I was a sobbing, blubbering mess. “A lot better. The day job still sucks, but my business is growing every month, so I’m hopeful about where it could go. I’ve made some friends. Gotten into a routine. It’s good.”

“I’m glad,” he says softly.

I turn toward him and lean my side against the railing. “You skipped myhow are you doingquestion.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and blows the air out of his cheeks. “Good. Learning how to delegate more. Promoted one of my artists to help manage the shop so I don’t have to be there every day. Shop is turning a profit now.” He winces and scratches the back of his neck. “Started going to therapy.”

Half a dozen follow-up questions are on the tip of my tongue, but I bite them back, not sure if it’s my place to ask anymore. “I think that’s great, Liam,” I say instead.

He squints in the distance and clears his throat. “I don’t know if you heard about Christine and my dad.”

“She mentioned they’re getting divorced.”

“Casey’s taking it pretty hard. So I’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”

I nod slowly, the pieces clicking into place. He told me months ago that Casey had started getting into trouble. Who knows how long things were tense in that house before they actually filed?

“Are you, um, have you been seeing anyone?”

My stomach does a somersault. “No,” I say quietly. “I’m not seeing anyone.” I hold his eyes, wanting to know—needingto know—but I can’t bring myself to ask. Becausethisis what I’ve been afraid of all day. The wrong answer will break me. If he’s already moved on, if the time apart has changed his perspective, and now when he looks back at that summer, what we had has been reduced to some fleeting, exciting fling. Just a stepping stone to help him get back out there after Hailey.

I swallow hard and look away.

“Me neither.”

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