Page 56 of Knot Really Engaged
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I’m scared.
Scared of getting hurt, scared of opening myself up to the possibility of heartbreak. And so I do what I always do when things or people hurt me. Like my family’s rejection or . . . so many things that I’ve been running away from.
Yep, that’s exactly what I do.
I run.
And maybe this time I have to stop.
“Is there Wi-Fi on the plane so I can text?” I dare to ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I glance at Max, my eyes wide and pleading.
Max nods, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Of course. There’s even a phone where you can call him.” He leans back in his seat, his arms folded behind his head as he watches me with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
“I didn’t say I’d contact him,” I protest, mycheeks flushing with embarrassment. I look away, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of the carpet beneath my feet.
He smirks, his expression smug and self-satisfied. “But you will.”
I bite my lip, my mind racing as I try to decide what to do. Part of me wants to prove Max wrong, to shut down the hope that flutters in my chest, and to pretend that I don’t care about Liam at all. But another part of me wants to at least have a grown-up conversation with Liam so we can discuss where to go from here.
Chapter Thirty
Liam
I sitin the bookstore’s back office, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and the musty scent of old books. My father and grandparents have already left for New York, leaving me alone to deal with the messy business. I run a hand through my hair as I try to make sense of the books.
Who has books thesedays? There are computers where people keep everything in detail. He can even scan things if they’re necessary, but using a book?
“Have you been doing everything the way your grandparents did?” I mutter.
If this place was mine, the first thing I’d do with it is get new bookshelves and paint the whole thing. Then . . . Well, hire a good accountant who won’t get a stroke when he realizes that his father is sinking this place to the ground.
Fuck. I doubt this can be fixed in a couple of weeks or that my father will be here before that. Mind you, that’s plenty of time for me to figure out the situation with the bookstore. Hire people to help, someone to manage it, and convince Mom to come and give us a hand.
I’ll understand if she disagrees, but also, she worked here for at least fifteen years. I remember her bringing me when I was young and letting me play in the children’s section while she stocked shelves or tended to some of the customers. A wistful smile tugs at my lips at the memory, a bittersweet pang in my chest.
This is exactly why the place can’t go. It’s my father’s income . . . If he even makes any money out of this place. Also, a place that maybe my children can own. The thought of children takes me to Audrey. I don’t even know what she wants in life,but I hope she wants to be by my side. My heart races at the idea, a flutter of excitement and nerves in my stomach.
That reminds me that I have to go back to San Diego no matter what. I need to be close to Audrey. I already prepared a few things so that she knows I’m thinking of her. A small, secret smile plays on my lips as I imagine her reaction.
Suddenly, my phone rings, the shrill sound cutting through the silence of the office. I glance at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I see that it’s from the plane.
I answer quickly, my voice tight with worry. “Is she okay?” I ask, my free hand clenching into a fist.
“I’m okay,” Audrey’s voice comes from the other side, and I sigh with relief. My shoulders sag, the tension draining from my body as I lean back in my chair. Just hearing her voice, knowing that she’s safe and sound . . . it’s like a weight has been lifted from my chest.
“Hey,” I breathe, my eyes fluttering closed for a moment as I relax, knowing that at least she’s safe and not upset with me. “Is it okay to say that I miss you already?” The words slip out before I can stop them, a raw honesty that feels both terrifying and exhilarating.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, a moment of silence that stretches out between us. Ican hear the soft sound of her breathing and the gentle hum of the plane’s engines in the background.
“I’m sorry,” she says finally, her voice soft and hesitant. “For running away, it was just . . .”
“Too overwhelming,” I finish for her.
“Uh-huh. It was just too much.” Her voice is small, almost timid, and so unlike her. It tugs at my heartstrings.
“You don’t need to apologize. And I seriously wish I was the one on the airplane with you.” I lean forward, my elbows resting on the desk as I cradle the phone closer to my ear.
