Page 10 of Knot Really Engaged
The cab pulls up to her family’s house, which looks exactly like I remembered, except maybe the porch swing is now a little more rickety. I feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of our time together coming to an end.
“Thanks for everything, Liam,” Audrey says with a warm smile, her hand brushing mine as she reaches for her bags. The touch is brief, but it sends a shiver down my spine.
“Anytime, Little McCallister. That’s what neighbors are for, right?” I flash her a playful grin as she opens the door, trying to ignore the way my heart clenches at the thought of saying goodbye.
The driver pops the trunk, and I jump out to help Audrey with the rest of her luggage. We worktogether, unloading suitcase after suitcase onto the curb. Our hands brush occasionally as we lift and carry, and I find myself lingering just a little longer than necessary, savoring the brief moments of contact.
“Right,” she says, her voice soft and filled with an emotion I can’t quite place. She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I’m tempted to pull her into my arms and never let go.
I haul Audrey’s luggage up the porch steps. She follows behind me, her hands full with the smaller bags.
“Hey, Audrey. Where is your boyfriend?” One of the cousins shouts from somewhere inside the house, earning an eye roll from Audrey and a chuckle from me. I can see the annoyance flash across her face, her jaw clenching slightly at the question.
“I’m not looking forward to telling them there’s no boyfriend,” she mumbles under her breath, her shoulders slumping. She lets out a groan, her head falling back in exasperation. “They’re all going to think I made him up.”
“You didn’t. I can vouch for it,” I say, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She looks up at me, her gaze filled with gratitude and a hint of something else I can’t quite place.
“But you never met him,” she points out, her brow furrowing.
“They don’t need to know that.” I wink at her, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. “See you later today.”
“Sure,” she replies with a wave before the screen door shuts behind her. I watch as she’s pulled into a flurry of hugs and kisses, her laughter mixing with the excited chatter of her family.
I pay the cabbie and make my way next door, my shoes crunching on the familiar pebble walkway. The sound is comforting. It reminds me of the years I spent running back and forth between houses.
Ethan’s house was just across the street. His parents sold it a few years ago, when they retired to New Mexico. Caleb’s parents moved to North Carolina before his younger sister started high school. I can’t believe there are just two families left on this street.
But that doesn’t matter though, the four of us are still friends. Now business partners.
“Liam,”my mom greets me, her voice carrying the same warmth it always does. She pulls me into a tight hug, her familiar scent of vanilla andcinnamon enveloping me. “I was starting to worry about you.”
Knowing Mom she really didn’t think I’d be coming this week. I often skip Thanksgiving every year, most times I meet them in New York to be with my grandparents for Christmas and New Year’s, but I always send her on a trip for her birthday.
I’m not avoiding my family, I just try to make sure everyone gets along.
“I wouldn’t have missed this week, Mom,” I say, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm.
“Welcome home, Liam. Make yourself useful, Son, and help set the table,” Malcolm, my stepfather, calls out from somewhere in the kitchen, his voice gruff but affectionate. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
“I ate on the plane. Do you mind if I skip breakfast?” I ask, stifling a yawn. The long flight and the emotional roller coaster of seeing Audrey again has left me drained. “Would you mind if I go upstairs to take a nap?”
“Liam, honey, we need to talk to you first,” Mom says, her tone serious. She exchanges a glance with Malcolm, silent communication passing between them. “Afterward, you can head up.”
“Sure, what’s up?” I respond, a sense of unease creeping up my spine. I follow them into thekitchen, my heart beginning to race with anxiousness.
In the kitchen, I find Dad standing by the refrigerator, orange juice in hand. Everyone’s expressions are serious in a way that instantly sets off alarm bells in my head. I don’t recall them ever being together having a meal, if my father is here, something is very wrong.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, the informal edge to my voice sharpening with concern. I can feel my brow furrowing.
“Liam, we need to talk to you about Mom . . . Your grandmother,” Dad starts, his voice unsteady—a rarity for him. “She . . .” He runs a hand through his graying hair, a nervous habit I’ve never seen him display before.
“Okay, talk to me.” I lean back against the wall, arms folded across my chest, trying to brace myself for whatever they’re about to say. My heart is pounding now, a sickening rhythm that echoes in my ears.
“Your grandma . . . She’s sick, Liam.” Mom’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, her hands wringing together as though she could squeeze the bad news into something more palatable. Her lower lip trembles, and I can see the effort it takes for her to hold herself together.
Mom’s mother died when she was young. Shenever knew who her father was. When she met my grandparents there was a special connection between her and Grandma that even after the divorce hasn’t faded away.
It makes sense why Dad is here and she’s about to crumble with the despair of knowing that Grandma . . . How sick is she? My heart stops as I just now realize that this conversation is way too serious for simply pneumonia or . . .
