Page 27 of Persuading Liam

Max narrows his eyes. “And how did those end? You haven’t been particularly forthcoming with your relationship info.”

“Badly,” I mutter, sinking my elbows onto my desk and resting my face in my palms. I speak from that position. “Terribly. It’s like my idiosyncrasies are kind of fun and cute at first and then when they see the real me…”

Max waits for a moment to let me talk before following up. “What do you mean by the real you?”

I drop my hands on the desk. “Oh I don’t know, anal retentive, rigid, obsessive-compulsive, cold.”

“Cold?”

I cringe when Max picks up on the one word I should have kept to myself. “You clean a lot. Yes, you might be a little too obsessed with order, but you’ve never been cold.”

I don’t know how to tell him that the minute I start caring about someone, I freeze up. The thought of the absolute desolation and destruction on our father’s face when we lost our mom to cancer is something I can’t shake. I never told mybrother, but when we got home from the hospital that night, I caught my dad destroying every inch of his office, weeping out of control. I held him for hours as he shuddered and shook and broke right there in front of me.

He was never the same after that I know I won’t survive it if it happened to me. I’m not half the man my father was.

“I don’t know,” I lie, even though I know I should probably talk it out. But it seems so silly to say it as if verbalizing it makes it smaller. “That’s what they all said.”

Max studies me and I can tell that he knows I’m not giving him the entire story. After a moment of careful thought—another thing that surprises me about the new Max—he leans forward. “I don’t know what happened in the past, but I do know that it doesn’t matter when it comes to Marley. If she’s the right woman, she’ll erase all of that. She’ll see past all that bullshit. I mean, it’s not magic—you still have to put work in, but what I’m trying to tell you is that the right person helps you past the shit and raises you above it. But you have to trust them in the process. And give yourself a chance.”

I consider his advice for a moment, letting myself imagine what it might be like to have Marley by my side like Max has Gus. I feel a lift in my chest, a thin breath of hope in my heart until I consider what it might do to me if I lost her.

Or if she didn’t turn out to be the one that could accept me as I am. How would I move on from that when just the thought of it feels like a donkey kick to the gut?

“And hey,” Max continues after a moment, “I feel like if Gus were here, she’d add that you need to consider Marley’s needs too. This isn’t just about you and what you want. She gets to decide if you’re worthhertime. Not you.”

I swallow the baseball-sized lump in my throat and nod even though I’m not sure the message sunk in like it was supposed to.

“Anyway, go home. You need some sleep, you look like dog shit.”

I manage a dry laugh. “Thanks, appreciate that.”

He pushes out of the chair, “Can’t let you think I’ve matured all the way, can I?”

I nod.

“Now get up. Gus told me I can’t go home until you do, and I will carry you over there if I have to.”

Knowing he means what he says, I shake my head. “All right. I’m going.” I flip my laptop closed and stand for the first time in hours. I feel one hundred years old.

Max taps his watch. “Get a move on.”

I do as he says.

19

MARLEY

Isway slightly as I pour my coffee into my mug the next morning. I’m exhausted from work, yes, but mostly from staring at the ceiling all night waiting to hear Liam come in the front door. And then, after that, I fantasize about him coming into my room and running those strong hands of his all over my body.

“Shit,” I mutter as my fantasy takes ahold again, and I spill coffee on the counter. I’m already running late and I don’t want Fin waiting on the sidewalk in her Gucci shoes.

Just as I’m wiping up the mess, the front door opens and I see Liam with my own eyes for the first time in days.

My breath catches. Even after what I imagine is a punishing run, he looks incredible. His hair is a mess, and his cheeks are red from the cold air. It makes his blue eyes feel like lasers when then land on me with a little bit of surprise. “Marley.” Is all he says.

“Running behind,” I say, screwing the cap onto my travel mug with the intention of scooting around him and making myself scarce as soon as possible so he doesn’t have to be troubled by my presence.

But when I try, he reaches out and catches me by the hip. My breath stops along with the rest of the world as his fingers seem to grip me like he’s afraid of losing me. He doesn’t pull me close—I imagine because he’s covered in sweat—but his eyes sweep my face in a way that makes my stomach tighten. I can feel the need in him, the same need I’ve been fighting for the last three days and I nearly drop my coffee mug when he spreads the fingers of his other hand against my cheek.

---