Page 29 of Knot Really Engaged
“Dinner was just the start,” he says, voice dropping huskily. “By the end of that first meal, I knew I was a goner. Hopelessly addicted to this woman’s company . . . among other things.” His eyes darken, the implication clear, and I feel a rush of heat coursing through my veins.
Liam’s gaze seems to draw me in, a magnetic force that I can’t resist. His voice is low and husky as he continues, “That first night was just the start of our whirlwind romance. We couldn’t seem to get enough of each other.”
He continues, describing how he used the little free time we had in London to see each other and swoon me.
“After I left London, every minute felt like an eternity until I could see you again,” he murmurs in that low, rumbly voice that sends tingles down my spine. His eyes are intense, boring into mine with a heat that makes my breath catch. “Those two weeks dragged on forever, even when we exchanged texts and calls during our free time.”
“Aww,” someone says, while the rest shush them for interrupting.
Liam stares at me, leans and kisses my nose slightly. “When you finally landed in San Diego, Iwas a bundle of nerves waiting for you at the airport.” A slow smile curves his lips, and I can’t help but be drawn to the way his mouth moves, the way his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as he speaks. “But the moment I saw you, it was like the world around us dissolved. All I could see was your beautiful face.”
I swallow hard, dizzy from the story.
The story of a guy whose love was so profound, so all-consuming he had for me just after a month of rekindling our friendship. The flowers he had when he waited for me at baggage claim, the way his face lit up when he saw me . . . It’s all so vivid in my mind.
As he continues talking about our life in San Diego, how we still keep our places but no matter what, we always spend our nights together, I feel a lump rising in my throat. Longing crashes over me in waves, a bittersweet ache that I can’t quite shake.
That, the relationship he’s describing is all I’ve ever wanted to have in my life.
If only his words were real instead of a fantasy. I would give anything to live those fleeting, blissful moments with someone. Obviously not him, but a man who I’ll learn to love more than life itself.
If he’s even real.
For some reason I can’t understand, I want so badly to believe this lucky woman who has theperfect romance with Liam could be me. To fully surrender to this dream of a shared life in sunny San Diego, nights tangled together in euphoric bliss. But the truth is, no matter how vividly I picture it, I’m still alone at the end of the day.
“This woman just won me over, though sometimes she gives me a hard time when I’m working in the kitchen. That’s her only flaw.” The teasing in his voice would make anyone think that we’re in fact a real couple.
“Sure, if by ‘work’ you mean blasting music and singing into the spoon like it’s a microphone,” I shoot back, my voice slightly breathless. “I’m the one doing all the work. You’re just the sous-chef.”
“Hey, the sous-chef is important and you have to remember that, ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ requires commitment,” he retorts in a taunting way.
I roll my eyes, though I can’t suppress the giggle that escapes me. He’s so good at this.
“Only Liam can turn the kitchen into a stage,” I add, my voice filled with affection. “Honestly, I think I knew I was madly in love right there—who else has the guts to cook grilled cheese and open a can of tomato soup while playing air guitar and singing?” I lean into him, my hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm.
“That’s because I’m awesome, babe,” Liamsays, bowing his head with feigned humility. His lips twitch, fighting back a grin, and I can’t help but be charmed by his playful demeanor.
The room erupts in laughter, and I catch Liam’s eye, recognizing the shared thrill of our successful improvisation. Our families are eating out of the palm of our hands, utterly charmed by his story. It’s working. I can’t believe we’re selling it. For a fleeting moment, I believe we’re out of the woods. Relief washes over me, and I allow myself to relax, just a little.
“Oh, you two are just perfect,” Ms. Cohen says, her eyes misty with emotion. “If you want, we can call Father Sean to marry you this weekend.” She clasps her hands together, her expression hopeful.
“Per the internet and some obscure church, I can officiate,” my cousin James offers.
“Mom, this weekend is about Mr. and Mrs. McCallister,” Liam reminds her gently, ignoring James. “We want to wait and organize the perfect wedding.” His thumb strokes over my knuckles.
This man is so freaking swoony.
“What’s the perfect wedding?” Mom crosses her arms and stares at me, her gaze piercing. I feel like a deer caught in headlights, my mouth going dry as I try to come up with an answer.
My eyes open wide, and I swallow hard, my mind racing. I can feel the weight of everyone’sstares, the expectation hanging heavy in the air. My palms grow clammy, and I have to resist the urge to wipe them on my jeans. I glance at Liam, silently pleading for help.
Because honestly, I want to say,One with the man of my dreams and not some made up fiancé?But obviously I can’t. It’ll just destroy the work we created over the past hour and what might be the best story in the world.
“A destination wedding in Fiji,” Liam offers, his voice smooth and confident.
“You know I love the beach, Mom,” I add, my voice slightly breathless. I force a smile, trying to look excited about the idea, even as my stomach churns with anxiety.
“I won’t pay for a wedding in Fiji, more so when he didn’t even ask for your hand in marriage,” Dad’s voice suddenly booms around us and the room goes quiet after a few gasps.
