Page 40 of The Reno
I nodded, smiling sadly. “It can be. And no, she doesn’t.”
The music stopped. Liam and I stepped apart, but our eyes were still locked on each other.
“My disability…” I paused. It still felt weird to call it that. “It was partly why I was late to the funeral,” I said, my defences rising. I wanted to explain myself. “Not that it’s an excuse. But I forgot my speech notes, and they’d been printed on this specific paper to help me read. It stops the words wiggling around, and I know that sounds ridiculous. I rushed back to get them, and I was running late—”
“And then I stole your car parking space,” Liam said, his voice low.
“Well, yeah. But it was my own fault. I should have been more organised.”
“I was late too.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought about that. “Yeah, I suppose you were.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his lips in a flat line. “I was in a rush. Jack had gone into A & E again, I was stressed, and I acted like a dick.” Liam glanced down. “If it helps, I wanted the ground to swallow me up when I saw you stand up there and I realised who you were. I’m not religious, but I was convinced I would burn up and go straight to hell.”
My lips twitched. “There’s still time.”
Liam glanced up, spotted my expression, and his lips turned upwards, too.
“So, I’m sorry if I threw you off. The speech—”
Oh no. We werenotgoing there; it was way too deep.
“I’d rather not talk about it if that’s okay,” I said, and Liam searched my face. For a moment, I thought he would push on and ask more of me, but he nodded.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I’ve—got some cleaning up to do.”
He was awkwardly looking for an out of the conversation.
I nodded. “Thanks for the dance.”
Liam’s eyes scanned me again. He nodded and went to turn away.
“I never said thank you for the lock, by the way,” I blurted out.
Liam turned back. “It was nothing.”
“Well, it means I can lock my door, so I appreciate it.”
Liam looked me in the eye, sincere and unguarded.
“It’s important you feel safe here,” Liam murmured, thewords making butterflies explode in my stomach. A kaleidoscope of new images of Liam flitted across my mind. Liam fitting a new lock. Liam standing up and agreeing to help me. Liam dancing with Dot and preparing tiny sandwiches.
“I’ll come around tomorrow,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll be there around ten. Make sure you’re decent this time.”
A choked laugh bubbled out of me.
ELEVEN
“You’re going to have to move out,” Liam said casually, a pencil hanging from his ear.
We stood staring at the walls in the box room for—for some reason. I wasn’t really sure why.
Since Liam arrived an hour ago, I’d outlined my vision for the house. I tried to paint a picture of a fictional family and how they’d use the house—the back door, where kids could kick off their shoes and bring in shopping bags. Big sliding doors to throw open at a summer BBQ. A cosy front room with a log burner you could curl up next to at Christmas. In the kitchen, I imagined plaster-pink walls, deep-navy-blue kitchen cabinets, and artfully clashing patterns that make you wonder how on earth they work together—a haven of girlishness.
A girly haven that a big stupid man was invading.
“What do you mean?” I twitched.
