Page 9 of Sinfully Yours

It doesn't make any sense. Liam and I had a mature, rational conversation. We agreed the kiss was a mistake. No big deal. Adults make mistakes all the time. Just last week, I tried to cut my own bangs after watching one TikTok tutorial, and I'm still living with the consequences.

And yet, as I take the long way home, dodging couples holding hands and street musicians crooning about love, there's this dull, stupid ache sitting low in my chest.

Liam Carter kissed me.

And then he walked away.

Just like I told him to. Just like I wanted him to.

Right?

I scowl at my own reflection in a shop window and do what any reasonable woman in my position would do. I make a split-second decision to buy greasy, soul-soothing Chinese takeout and decide to drown my feelings in an unreasonable amount of MSG.

The place I stop at is a tiny hole-in-the-wall spot with cracked vinyl booths, flickering fluorescent lights, and a laminated menu that's been stained with soy sauce for probably a decade. In other words, the food is absolutely going to slap.

The cashier barely looks up as I rattle off my order. "Sesame chicken, extra sauce. Fried rice, but the kind that's so greasy it seeps through the carton. And, uh…" I scan the menu like I'm not about to make the most obvious choice. "Crab Rangoon."

I say it like it's a casual addition, like I wasn't already picturing the molten-hot cream cheese hitting my tongue the moment I stepped inside.

The cashier smacks her gum and rings me up without judgment. She gets it.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm back at my apartment, takeout bag clutched in one hand, keys in the other.

Home is a second-floor walk-up in the Riverwalk District, tucked above a small, independent bookstore that always smells like paper and cinnamon candles. My landlady, Mrs. Vasquez, likes to leave muffins outside my door whenever she bakes, and sometimes, I find stray cat hair on my welcome mat, even though I don't own a cat. The place has charm, and even though it's not big, it's mine.

I kick the door shut behind me, balancing my food and toeing off my boots. It's warm inside, the scent of old books mixing with vanilla from the half-burned candle on my coffee table. Fairy lights hang across my bookshelves, bathing the space in soft yellow, and there's an open notebook on the couch where I'd left it this morning, half a page of scribbled ideas for work waiting to be abandoned in favor of eating my weight in Chinese food.

The living room is an explosion of color and clutter—framed vintage posters, an overstuffed bookshelf sagging under the weight of too many novels, a throw blanket draped messily over the arm of my bright yellow couch. My laptop sits open on the coffee table next to an empty coffee mug—concrete evidence of my usual morning chaos.

It's not exactly a minimalist's dream, but it's warm, lived-in, full of pieces of me.

Unlike Liam's place. Although I've only seen it a couple of times when Dean needed to take me over if he was babysitting me.

Nevertheless, I shouldn't be thinking about that.

Sighing, I drop onto the couch and open the takeout bag. Steam ascends upward, bearing notes of dark soy sauce, fresh spring onions, and… heaven. The crab Rangoon are still hot, their crispy edges glistening with oil. I bite into one, and it's exactly the kind of mouth-burning, cheese-laden comfort I need right now.

"This is what love is," I murmur to no one, waving a dumpling in the air before dunking it into a plastic cup of neon-orange sweet-and-sour sauce.

My phone buzzes next to me.

I ignore it at first, too busy shoveling a forkful of rice into my mouth, but something about the timing makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

Another buzz.

I swallow, wiping my fingers on a napkin before reaching for my phone.

The text is from an unknown number.

The moment I see the preview, my stomach drops.

You really shouldn't kiss people in public if you want to keep secrets.

Attached is a photo. It’s blurry and grainy, but it's also unmistakably Liam and me.

His hands are tangled in my hair, my fingers are curled into the lapels of his suit.Oh, no.

I drop the dumpling I was about to eat, my appetite evaporating in an instant as I stare at the screen, goosebumps erupting across my skin as a sinking feeling spreads through my chest.

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