Page 35 of Wants and Needs
“Yes, thank you,” he tells her again in that almost robotic way.
Once we’re seated and have menus in our hands—which Liam puts down right away—I ask.
“Did you make a reservation or something?”
“No. We come here a lot as a family because this is Mom’s favorite place for some heart-fattening pasta. At least that’s how she puts it,” he explains, and I chuckle just from imagining her saying that.
I keep forgetting that Liam’s Mom istheSamantha Sawyer and his dadtheEd Trent because they’ve acted so normal around me, but whenever I remember, the slight panic of adoration is less stark every time.
“And you ask for this table every time?” I wonder.
“Yes.” He nods once. “It’s away from most of the noise of the restaurant.”
“All right, then. Now I see I didn’t need to send Mike any messages. You tell me the best thing here and I’ll order it.”
Liam’s shoulders drop and his fingers expand and then relax on top of the tablecloth.
“We always order lasagna, and that’s what I was going to do and ask them to package whatever’s left so I can take it home. If I don’t then my brothers will whine forever about it.”
That tenderness that seems to be blooming inside me more often around Liam comes out in full force, and I have to force myself to keep talking and not just smile at him like a sap.
“Let’s do it then, but maybe we can order two. I could eat a cow right about now.”
Liam snorts, making me pause completely. That was a real snort. Inelegant, unplanned, and totally genuine. “That’s a good idea,” he agrees and calls the waiter over. He asks for water and I do the same.
I’m about to ask if he’s sure he doesn’t want anything else to drink when a whiny sort of voice—grating as hell—has me looking over Liam’s shoulder.
“Well, well, well, isn’t this cozy?”
The man—slight, not very tall, with blond hair that’s clearly professionally done—has an ugly sneer on his face as he rounds the table and stands right by Liam. Looking down at him, his sneer turns into... well, that’s one evil-looking smile if I’ve ever seen one.
“You’re still coming in here every week, I see,” he says.
Liam flinches away and doesn’t look up, his gaze firmly locked on the salt and pepper in the middle of our table. His face is impassive, but his shoulders are almost up to his ears.
I don’t know who this motherfucker is, but he’s clearly not someone Liam wants near him, so I start out hostile. I don’t have anything to lose.
“Who are you?” I ask, forcing my tone into something emotionless.
“I’m Robin Graves,” he says with an air of superiority that has no basis as far as I’m concerned.
At the same time Liam mutters, “Dirk Redding.”
I’m instantly confused and frown up at the stranger with apparently two names.
“Robin is my stage name,” he explains like he’s doing me a great favor.
“You can choose those, right?”
“Yes,” Liam whispers.
I lookRobinup and down and bring out all the hilarity I’m feeling to my face.
“And you chose Robin Graves?” I bark out a laugh. “You wanted to make your necrophilia known to the world?” Another snort leaves me, and I’m not even faking or forcing anything. This shit is actually ridiculous.
Robin’s scrunched up face starts to turn red instantly, and I amloving it.
“Is this how you spend your dates?” he asks as he turns back to Liam. “Still not able to bring anything remotely interesting, so your date has to find amusement in the most ridiculous thoughts?”
