Page 87 of My Wife
“Liam Ellis, you are going down in a blaze of creamy glory.” I lick my finger. “It’ll be a shame to waste this on him.”
No sooner do I have it layered in an aluminum pie tin—I don’t want to use ceramic and break his nose or anything—does he stalk toward me. I advance, lift the pie plate, and before he realizes what’s happening, I mash it into his face.
I expect him to growl and possibly attack, but he lets out a yell of surprise.
Glaring, he wipes it from his face. “What was that all about? Did one of the guys put you up to this?”
“No, Liam. I’m done. Totally over the moodiness, the crankiness, the grumpiness. Grow up or I’m getting out. For good.” I didn’t mean for that to come out as an ultimatum but am certain this man wouldn’t hear me otherwise.
He swabs his cheek with his finger and then makes a show of licking the whipped cream off of it. “Mmm. Tasty.”
I scowl … and maybe drool a little. It’s hard to ignore my body’s reaction to this man, to the awareness that he has a soft side that I want to tease out.
The left corner of his lip twitches.
“This isn’t funny.”
“By definition, you mashing a pie, er, cream, into my face is.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. The whipped cream was me sending a message.”
“That I need to take myself less seriously? Message received. I also wanted to let you know that I found the box I’d been looking for. Grady called while I was on my way home. Said he found it in his hockey skate.”
Sobered because that wasn’t what I expected to hear, I say, “Oh. Good. I thought that you thought?—”
Liam’s expression is surprisingly open, light. “That you took it? No way, Jessica. You’re the one who finds things. Fixes things. Brightens the day, the night, you are a force of light I’ve needed in my life. You forgive and—” He goes abruptly quiet because something is happening.
I was not expecting that.
My face feels hot. My nose stings. Jaw tight. Eyes wet. It’s then that I come apart. It all comes flooding out of me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, alarmed.
“I’m not crying. I do not cry.” I don’t know where this comes from, but a lot of salty liquid spills from my eyes.
“Was it something I said?”
“Yes,” I whisper through a sniffle. “It’s everything you’ve said and how you’ve said it.”
I have thick skin and don’t need praise from someone like Liam. I know who I am—I do bring light—and I guess all these tears needed to get out of the way so I could continue to shine it.
And there was that little thing about forgiving, so when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his chest, I don’t resist.
Liam Ellis has never had a hug from me before and it’s going to change his life.
23
LIAM
I wrapmy arms around Jessica and never has anything felt so good. Not the thrill of winning a game. Not even the Cup. Because winning isn’t what it’s about. Rather, not losing. Control mostly. If I let it slip, everything will fall to pieces. Again.
Her arms lace around my middle and she holds tight with her cheek pressed to my chest. Her eyes are closed and she squeezes. It’s full-contact warmth and sends a whoosh through me.
I expect her to let go, but she doesn’t. Through some form of osmosis transfer, like snapshots in a dream, I feel alternately sunny, light, and hopeful.
We remain like this for far longer than a customary hug, but it isn’t awkward, more like melts something within me and between us.
Just before we part, I kiss her forehead which is like popping a cork because she’s no longer wearing her ‘Everything is fine’ face or the look of terror I glimpsed right before she mushed the pie into my face.
