Page 75 of Joy to Noel
Liam looks up at me with a wry smile. “Of course, in the midst of all the small factors adding up, there’s this onebigfactor wrapped up in a tiny, feisty package,” he teases, tickling my side. I squirm until he stops, but then I bring a hand up to trace his jaw with my fingers.
“What would you do? How would that work with your job?” I ask.
He frowns. “That’s the one thing giving me pause. I know that Holden would never let me continue my current position if I wasn’t based out of Houston. Plus, it would be back to traveling to new places for weeks or months at a time. This is by far the longest I’ve ever stayed at one location—and that’s just because it was a legal mess on top of a corporate mess. And Beau and I managed to extend my time with the addition of the new production line.”
Liam’s brow furrows, and I trace the lines across his forehead. “So?” I prod.
He sighs. “I guess I could apply to become the permanent plant manager. Shift my employment from Holden to Pure Fur All. Just stay and keep things running.”
Now my brow furrows. “Would you be happy doing that? I mean, I know youcoulddo it on a backstroke. But standing around keeping awell-oiled machine running doesn’t strike me as the type of challenge you’d appreciate. Or something worthy of your skill set.”
Liam sighs again, deeper, longer. Like his very soul is breathing out an exhausted groan. He closes his eyes before he answers. “I don’t know. Probably not. But if that’s what it would take to stay here, then maybe I could live with it.” His eyes open again, locking on mine. “I know we said we would figure things out as we go, but I don’t think I want to go anymore. I want to stay. Because I . . .” He pauses, swallowing hard, and I sense what’s coming. “Because I love you, Madison.”
I should tell him that I’m failing. That the dream of Madison Joy Editorial is probably on the downhill slope to utter demise. That I might have to explore other options for employment. That I’m not the relentless girl he thinks he fell in love with.
I should tell him.
Instead, I whisper, “I love you too, Suits.”
I lean in and kiss him.
Chapter thirty-one
Liam
October
“Do you have enough socks? You never want to be without comfortable socks,” Madison says from where she’s perched on my bed. We’ve been pretty strict about sticking to our rule of staying out of each other’s rooms, but I gave her a free pass today. She created the most thorough packing list I’ve ever seen and is taking great joy in checking off the boxes.
“I have plenty of socks, MJ,” I reply as I zip up my carry-on suitcase. “I’m only going to be gone for five days.”
She sits up on her knees, scooting to the edge of the bed where I’m standing. “Are you sure that suitcase is big enough?”
“You just watched me zip it up with no problem,” I answer sarcastically.
“Yes, it’s big enough for the trip there, but what about all the souvenirs you’re bringing back for me?” she says, the golden flecks of her eyes sparkling.
“Exactly what souvenirs am I supposed to be bringing back?” I ask. “English tea?”
Madison smiles. “Hmmm, that’s a start. I don’t know, maybe miniature figures of Buckingham Palace or Big Ben to display on my desk.”
“I think you’re supposed to get those types of knickknacks when you’ve actuallybeento the places yourself,” I quip, placing my hands on her waist.
Her hands slide up my chest and her lips quirk as she says, “Well, you could at least bring back a thicker British accent.”
I dip into her beloved accent as I murmur, “Such cheeky behavior.” Leaning down, I catch her lips with mine, and the flammable chemistry between us takes over quickly, just like it always does. I break contact between our lips long enough to thread my arm under her legs and swoop her into my arms.
“Hey! What are you doing?!” she exclaims.
“I’m taking you somewhere away from my bed to finish this kiss,” I say. The words are hardly out of my mouth before her lips are back on mine, and I pause in the hallway rather than completing my intended path to the kitchen.
The sound of the doorbell jolts us back to reality, and I carefully set Madison down on her feet. She reaches up and smooths down my hair.
“Your parents’ first impression of me probably shouldn’t be signs of me tousling your hair while making out,” she says. She’s made the statement with her signature sauciness, but I see the nervous way she runs her hands through her own hair and pulls down the hem of her tunic.
Taking her hands in mine, I press a kiss to her knuckles. “They’re going to love you,” I say, bringing a genuine smile to her lips. We walk hand in hand to the entryway, but Madison hangs back a little as I open the door. My parents stand side by side, and I try to imagine Madison’s thoughts as she sees them for the first time. I share my father’s height and hair color, but my eyes are a lighter shade of brown than his, thanks to my mom’s genetic influence. Her brown hair has started to streak with gray, but she won’t dye it. She says the gray makes her look even more dignified as a Shakespeare professor.
Whatever smile lines I have are definitely Mom’s influence.
