Page 44 of The Dating Coach
"I am biased," he agreed, moving to stand between my knees where I sat on the counter. "Completely, hopelessly biased in favor of Gemma Spears."
My breath caught at his proximity, at the intent in his eyes. "Liam..."
The weight of unspoken words hung between us, weeks of careful boundaries and almosts finally coming to a head. I could see it in his eyes – the same certainty I felt, the same recognition that we'd moved far beyond friendship without either of us quite acknowledging it.
Instead of speaking, I reached for him, my hands settling on either side of his face. He leaned into the touch, eyes closing briefly before opening to meet mine.
When he kissed me, there was none of the desperation or performance of our earlier moments. This was soft certainty—his fingers twisting in my hair as the other hand curved around my waist. I melted into him, drawing him close until we were as one.
When we finally pulled back, our foreheads rested together, the ruined kitchen hushed around us except for our ragged breaths.
“So,” I whispered, not yet ready to name what had just shifted between us.
He smiled, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Mia’s birthday is in four days. Want to start planning?”
I laughed softly. “Right. Of course—cake, candles, maybe those silly hats?”
“Perfect,” he agreed, stepping back.
Chapter 21: Gemma
Mia’s eighteenth birthday morning broke crisp and clear, the kind of day that felt like a gift. I stood in the doorway of Karen's room, watching my sister sleep with an ache in my chest. Eighteen. Legally an adult. Safe from our parents' threats but also thrust into a world that didn't always treat people like her kindly.
"Stop being creepy," Mia mumbled without opening her eyes. "I can feel you angsting from here."
"I'm not angsting," I protested. "I'm reflecting. There's a difference."
"The difference is spelling." She cracked one eye open. "Are you going to cry? Because if you cry, I'll cry, and I wanted to save that for when Frank inevitably makes some speech about chosen family."
"No crying," I promised, crossing to sit on her bed. "How does it feel? Being a legal adult?"
"Anticlimactic," she admitted, sitting up. "I expected to wake up with wisdom and maybe better skin. Instead, I just have to pee."
"The glamour of adulthood," I agreed. "Ready for your birthday surprises?"
"Surprises? Plural?" She perked up. "Gem, you didn't have to—"
"Stop," I interrupted. "It's your eighteenth birthday. The first one where you get to be fully yourself. We're celebrating properly."
What I didn't tell her was that Liam, Frank, Henry , Karen, and I had spent the weekend planning what Frank called "the most epic but still emotionally manageable birthday celebration in history."
After breakfast – Mia's favorite chocolate chip pancakes, made from scratch despite my questionable cooking skills – we headed to the hockey house. Mia chatted excitedly with me about her plans to apply to various colleges next semester, but I could see her underlying nervousness. Birthdays in our family had always been tense affairs, filled with expectations and conditional celebration.
"Gem?" she said as we approached the house. "What if they've gone overboard? You know I don't like being the center of attention."
"Then we'll dial it back," I assured her. "Today is about what you want. Nothing more, nothing less."
The front door opened before we could knock, Frank appearing in what appeared to be a hand-bedazzled "BIRTHDAY QUEEN" apron.
"The woman of the hour!" he announced. "Welcome to your day of birth celebration, planned by committee and executed with love!"
"Oh god," Mia whispered, but she was smiling.
The house had been transformed – not with the usual hockey party decorations, but with thoughtful touches that showed how well they'd come to know my sister. Rainbow streamers mixed with her favorite book quotes printed on banners. The playlist Henry had created featured her favorite songs from musicals mixed with the indie bands she'd discovered recently. But it was the small things that made mythroat tight – her favorite tea waiting on the counter, a cozy reading nook set up in the corner, photos from the past few months creating a timeline of her journey to this moment.
"You guys," Mia started, then stopped, overwhelmed.
"No crying yet!" Frank commanded. "We have a schedule! Henry made a spreadsheet!"
