Page 130 of Back to Willow

“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers.

But then, a sudden thought crosses my mind, making me pale. Distancing myself from him quite abruptly but still holding his shoulders, I blurt, “Where will I be sleeping?”

“In my room,” he answers, smiling.

Then he grabs my hand and tugs me to follow him to the next door. It’s the master bedroom with a walk-in closet and a private bathroom. Just like the rest, it’s modern with light colours, mainly white and different shades of grey.

“Oh, no. I don’t want you sleeping on the couch or anything,” I comment, and he laughs.

He comes forward until our bodies meet, but he doesn’t stop there, forcing the both of us to walk this time—him forward and me backwards.

“There’s no way you’ll sleep on my small and uncomfortable couch!” The offended tone in his voice is loud and clear.

“Well, I don’t want you sleeping there either,” I counter.

“I’m sure there’s a very obvious solution,” he taunts in a whisper before bumping his nose against mine.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“There’s a big, comfortable, king-sized bed right next to us, which we could both sleep comfortably in.”

Looking to my right-hand side, I take in the huge bed. When the realisation dawns on me about what he’s suggesting, I gasp and swat his chest.

“What are you insinuating, Liam Davis?”

“Well, it’s just sleeping, we don’t—” He stops himself. “I mean–I wasn’t–I don’t–” He rubs his hand across his face before giving me a guilty look. “I just want to be close to you. Hold you, that’s it. But I–I can sleep on the couch.”

Having him this embarrassed, for once in his life, makes me chuckle and cup his cheeks.

“It’s fine,” I say, caressing his cheek. “Let’s do whatever feels right at that moment,” I whisper.

My statement makes him look at me with hope twinkling in his eyes. “Right.” He nods. “I can work with that,” he says, inching closer and closer. I close my eyes, expecting a kiss.

One that never comes because of a little tornado called Dylan bursts into the bedroom.

“I want to watch The Grinch,” he screeches.

I sigh in frustration, letting my head fall onto Liam’s chest while he laughs.

“Let’s go then, buddy.” Liam swoops Dylan into his arms and pulls me with them towards the living room.

Liam sets up the movie for us, and we watch two Grinch movies before I notice it’s close to dinner. I ask him just to give me a short orientation tour around the kitchen so I can cook dinner, but he refuses right away, getting up from the couch himself and cooking dinner for all three of us while I watch the rest of the movie with Dylan.

He’s snuggling with me by the time Liam calls us to the table. He flashes me a proud smile as soon as we sit down, serving us a traditional Christmas dish here in Portugal—boiled cod. It looks and smells so good, I’m amazed.

He used to be a mess in the kitchen, but I guess living on his own has taught him quite a few tricks. The boy I fell in love with, all of those years ago, has become a man.

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I still am.

“Mummy, not fish!” Dylan whines, pleading with his eyes.

“Oh, man,” Liam mumbles. “You told me fish was fine!” Panic lacing his voice.

“And it is,” I reassure him. “Don’t be easily manipulated by a six-year-old!” Then I turn to Dylan. “Well, if you want Santa to come and leave your presents while you sleep so you can open them tomorrow morning, you have to eat your fishandvegetables.” I narrow my eyes at him.

He scrunches his face and grumbles something I can’t decipher but nods anyway, waiting for Liam to serve him and for me to take the bones out of the fish for him. He eats in silence with an ever-present scowl, and we just laugh at his attitude.

I can’t even get mad at him.

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