Page 42 of How to Write a Rom-Com

Everything is so easy with Liam. Talking, laughing, even hiking. Okay, maybe not hiking. I think back to a few weeks ago when I told Elle that everything in my life seemed like a struggle. Walking to work, taking the subway, trying to show Anne (without being too subtle) that I was eyeing a promotion. That seems like a distant memory now. But I quickly realize that it’s not a memory, it’s my life. What I’m doing here, with Liam,isn’treal life. I’m not really a writer. I’m not someone who spends her Saturday nights line dancing with children. What is going to happen when I have to go back to reality?

“Does that brain of yours ever stop?” Liam asks, nudging my side with his elbow. I’m suddenly aware of just how close he is to me. I think back to that moment by the car, when I thought I could muster up the courage to kiss him. I want to scold myself for that now. It was a lapse in judgment, something that shouldn’t even be crossing my mind. I’m here to do a job. In two weeks, I’ll be back in New York, presenting Anne with all the information I’ve gathered.

“Yes,” I say, “I’m just taking in the view.”

I have to be logical. I have to let the mathematical, calculating side of my brain take over here. Because despite what Liam says, working at Heartwarming was my dream,ismy dream. And I can’t give up the chance of making editor, working with my own authors, everything I’ve worked for. To what? To go backwards into small-town living?

And then I look into Liam’s eyes.

They’re beaming at me, the color of tropical waters with the smoldering intensity of a typhoon; they’re hard to look away from. I see his Adam's apple bob in his throat, and I forget how much time has passed between us. When his eyes flutter toward my lips, I lean back.

“Liam,” I whisper.

His focused gaze breaks and he meets my eyes. Concern flashes across his face, followed by confusion, and then finally, rejection.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I get it.”

“No, Liam, don’t misunderstand,” I start, I physically remove myself from the table so I don’t get lured in by his orbit again. “I’m not saying no toyou, not in a million years. I’m saying no to this…situation.” I gesture at the space between us.

Liam raises a brow at me and presses his lips into a firm line. He’s confused, but he also looks slightly amused at my attempt to explain myself out of this moment.

“What I mean is, I like you a lot—”

“Right. But…” he says, resting his chin on his hand.

“No, no but, there should be no ‘but’ after that,” I stammer. How did this situation turn around so quickly? Is the altitude up here diluting my cognitive abilities or something?

“But there is, isn’t there?” Liam says, matter-of-factly.

“Only because I’m leaving in a few weeks. And I—”

I think about what to say next. What if he rebuts my argument by saying he can handle me leaving in a few weeks? I realize that not only would that thwart my one good excuse, but also I don’t know how I’d feel about. What if he only sees this as a temporary fling?

“I don’t want to start something I can’t finish,” I say, letting out a long-held breath. “My life, my job, it’s in the city. This, me, here, is temporary.”

And that’s the truth of it. Liam has to know this too. Sure, I’m a new face in town, and maybe I was interesting to talk to for a while, but I’m sure that at his core, he knows this could never work out.

He studies me for a moment and I try to meet his gaze, but if I look into his eyes for too long, I’m afraid I might just admit everything. I shrug and let out a long sigh.

“Lucy,” Liam says, standing up. “It’s fine.” He closes the distance between us in two steps and puts a finger in the dimple on my chin, turning my head to look at him. “Don’t overthink this. It’s okay.”

I really want to believe him, but I see the hurt in his eyes. The hurt that I put there. I remind myself that it would be so much worse if I went through with it.

I repeat that thought about a thousand more times to try to erase the look on his face from my brain. We sit in silence for a few minutes, letting the moment pass.

“So,” he says. “Ready for dessert?” Liam, being Liam, brushes it off. “Chocolate chip cookies,” he says with a smile.

“Marry me,” I joke awkwardly. Liam shakes his head as he chuckles.

We devour our cookies and take a few selfies with the mountains in the background. I also get a few good portraits of Blue, which he was less than thrilled to participate in. As we head back down the trail, I tell Liam more about Elle, the number of times I’ve come home to her burning sage in the living room, and the time she scolded a man at Bryant Park who was, in her opinion, “not being nice enough to his dog.”

“She sounds like a very fun friend to have.”

“She’s something, that’s for sure,” I say smiling. “She’s very sure of herself.”

“And you’re not?” Liam questions, raising a brow.

“I think we’ve established that,” I answer, knowingly. Liam lets out a loud cackle and shakes his head.

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