Page 137 of The Reno
My mind reeled. Not in any universe did I expect Paula Evans to admit she was wrong.
“Well—” I paused, unsure what to say. “Thank you.”
“So, we figured you’d want to see this.” Graham slid over a white envelope. “We haven’t opened it.”
I spotted the familiar sprawl, and my hands darted across the table to snatch it. It was Liam’s handwriting. I was used to seeing it on my walls where he’d made measurements or on notes he left on the island when he left early for work and left me in bed. I ripped open the envelope and let out a little noise. Something between a whine and a sigh.
“What is it?” Graham asked, frowning.
“Nothing,” I said, my eyes burning as I scanned the invite, my brain lagging behind. Next weekend. Friends and family. Then, a little handwritten note in the corner.You pinkie promised.
My heart pounded, adrenaline pumped. I stood up, my chair scraping back. Then, I stopped myself.
What did I think I would do—run two hundred miles?
Mum’s hand went to the invite. “Did you design this?”
“How did you know?”
“I always know your designs,” she said, lowering her eyes. “I can tell by the colours. You always favour reds and oranges. Sometimes teal.” Mum took a deep breath and met my eyes. “I know I don’t always say it. But I’m proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you. I promise to work harder to make sure you know that.”
My nose burned, and all I could do was nod.
I glanced down at the invite. I’d used swirly cursive letters to spell out Lily’s—strong, bold colours for their branding, an ode to Liam’s strong, no-nonsense attitude. The deep blues and burnt oranges captured his steady, thrumming presence. I’d be happy if that were my last graphic design job, ever. For Lily’s. For Liam.
I said goodnight to Mum and Graham and headed to pack up my life.
FORTY
It was balmy walking up Everly Heath High Street. My heels sounded on the pavement as I passed the social club, which was suspiciously quiet. The day had been blistering sunshine, and the smell of barbecue and freshly cut lawns hung in the air, reminding me of my last visit in June—for Dad’s funeral. A year on, and I could still feel some of that lingering grief like fingerprints smudged on glass.
It wouldn’t leave. I didn’t want it to. That familiar tug was painfully reassuring, like a rope against the skin. It meant I had loved someone. I loved Dad despite all his mistakes and distance. Some days, when clouds circled, I felt he didn’t deserve my love. But other days, like today, I could just sit in that reality. I loved my dad, and returning to the place he loved filled me with bittersweet comfort, whether I wanted it to or not.
It was a momentary comfort as my thoughts shifted to Liam, spiking my cortisol. I tried to focus on the sound of my heels clopping. My steps slowed as I approached the side street Liam and I had walked down a few months ago.
Low, orange light poured from the window as I stood andlooked in. My heart burst when I saw the turnout. Everyone I’d ever seen in Everly Heath was packed into the tiny restaurant. Lydia and Sandra sipped flutes of champagne. Pat and Ravi gossiped by the bar, their heads leaning in together conspiratorially. Dot sitting on one of the booths, her legs dangling above the floor. Even miserable Peter had the grace to look impressed with a nod and a downturn of his lips.
Yasmin laughed as Abigail wrinkled her nose at the smoked salmon blinis passed around by Ren, who ruffled Abi’s hair; she wrinkled her nose again.
My heart jumped when Liam strode out of the kitchen and into the bar. He had the air of someone who was comfortable, familiar in their surroundings, and I figured he’d probably lived in this restaurant for two months. I watched him carefully lay more champagne flutes on the copper bar. As he turned, I saw he was wearing a hunter-green apron with my logo—no, his logo—in the centre. His hair had grown longer, long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail. His beard had grown, too.
As he turned, I saw a wild look in his eyes and a determined edge to his jaw, even under his beard. Fulfilment, I realised. Purpose.
Liam’s face broke into a grin as he spotted Frank, pulling him into a hug—a warm welcome for the man who had inspired him. Liam looked up from Frank, glancing at the door with… anticipation. He was looking for someone, waiting.
His eyes met mine and widened.
My heart gave a painful lurch. I wasn’t sure why, but suddenly I turned on my heel, walking back down the alley. This was toopublic, too much.
“Kat!” Liam’s voice was nearing. “Kat.” My damn heels weren’t letting me move any faster.
A hand landed on my arm, and I had no choice but to stop. I turned around, and Liam was smiling—a wide smile, a hundred-kilowatt bulb.
I blinked, wondering what I’d done to deserve that smile and what I would do to keep it, keep him, in my life.
“You’re here,” he said, smiling. “Why did you run off?”
“I—” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m not sure. I panicked. Half the town is in there.”
