Page 43 of Lost in You (The Monroes 3)

Macy wrinkled her nose. “Finger sandwiches and cake?”

He couldn’t suppress the groan. “Do you love your dad or not? You can’t serve that.”

With a defiant tilt of her chin, Macy crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Then what are we going to make?”

“Since you want the party in the evening, people will expect more than finger foods.”

Her eyes widened in fear. “I’ll change the time.”

Liam laughed and pushed off the counter. “Sophie already has a mock-up of the invitations you asked for. We can make this work and keep it fairly pain free for you.”

“Fine, then. Let’s get started.”

As he began pulling out ingredients, his mind was working overtime. Keeping things simple and staying on task would be easy. Once he started cooking, his mind instantly zoned out to everything else around him.

Perhaps she could do some simple macaroni and cheese bites baked with a seasoned bread crumb topping. Maybe some steak kabobs on the grill since she was doing the party at her house. That was certainly simple enough. But he also had a great BLT pasta salad that would work really well, especially with summer on the horizon. Liam transitioned his menus from season to season like some people did their clothing.

“This cookbook is really old.”

Liam jerked around to see Macy holding his mother’s cookbook. The red and white checkered cover was as familiar to him as his scarred face in the mirror.

He reached for it, carefully snatching it from her hands, and holding the loose binding onto the back. Macy startled and fisted the hand that had been holding on to the book.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

Cursing, Liam set the book on the island. “No, I’m sorry. That was my mother’s.”

He swallowed at the pain that threatened to creep up. He’d never spoken of his mother to anyone. He’d only shared his childhood memories with Chelsea when she’d pester him in the kitchen. She’d feign that she was there to sample the goods, but he knew her tactics went deeper. She wanted him to open up, to share some of the hurt, and she’d been the only one to get him to do so.

Until now, when he wanted to share everything with Macy. For some reason being one vulnerable person to another was the key to getting him to want to rip open the wounds and reveal his pain.

“I’m still sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t think.”

“You didn’t know,” he countered, trailing a finger over the worn title. “My mother and I used to bake all the time. It was our thing. She was single and we really only had each other. She passed of a brain aneurism, so I never felt like I had any closure. I wasn’t there when she died.”

Macy’s feet shuffled over the wood floor. From the corner of his eye he saw her delicate hand reach for his. She flattened his hand over the book, holding him there as she stood way too close to his side. Liam didn’t move, barely breathed as he waited for her to say something. The silent comfort she offered was almost too much. Emotions clutched his chest as he struggled to pull in much needed air. Thinking of his mother always hurt, but sharing memories out loud was flat-out crippling.

“I’m sorry, Liam. I can tell she was a special lady,” Macy commented. “She’d be proud of you.”

“Probably,” he agreed. The warmth of Macy’s hand over his seemed to provide some type of courage he didn’t even know he needed. “I learned how to make a pie when I was five. I made Thanksgiving dinner when I was eight. She let me do absolutely everything from the turkey to the stuffing and the cranberry salad. Even though it was just the two of us, I made a huge spread.”

Macy’s thumb stroked across the back of his hand. “I bet it was amazing.”

“The turkey was dry, the pie was gooey, and the stuffing was a bit crisper than it should’ve been, but my mom went on and on about how wonderful it was.” He smiled as he recalled how pleased his mother had been. “I knew she was lying. I mean, I tasted the food and instantly knew I’d messed up. But that’s how she was. Always encouraging me to do better, try again and learn from my mistakes.”

“What did she look like?”

Jerking his eyes to Macy, he tried to figure out how he could describe the most beautiful woman in both spirit and looks. “She had long dark hair, blue eyes, and a soft smile. She was always smiling. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for her to work and raise me on her own, but she managed for the first twelve years of my life.”

“What happened when she died?”

Liam pulled his hand from beneath hers and turned away. “I’m not getting into that.”

“I know the pain, Liam. I lost my mother, too. You don’t have to say anything.”

He couldn’t, not when talking about the good memories gutted him. To delve into the fact his mother had been taken from him was more than he could handle right now. And Macy did get him, in more ways than he ever wanted to admit.

Macy moved around to stand in front of him. Slender arms circled his waist as she rested her head against his chest. She didn’t back down, wasn’t taking his rejection for an answer.

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