Page 3 of Lost in You (The Monroes 3)

er, she’d put a small shop on one side of the store that had home accents. Her grandparents had been too poor to do so. So they had lived in the upstairs, but they let nothing stand in the way of their dream.

Macy’s parents had eventually renovated the space during their married life and never moved. Her father always joked that the commute was too convenient.

Macy had grown up here and the place still felt so much like home. A home when her entire world had been right, had been all sunshine and rainbows. These walls could tell so many stories of laughter, Christmas mornings, slumber parties, and late night movies. Reality and fate hit her hard when she’d been eighteen, though.

And now Liam lived here. She’d never had an intention of renting the space out, but he needed a place to live and she’d lost her mind for a split second and extended the invitation when Sophie suggested he stay.

Macy waited, but the door remained closed. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, she turned the knob and let herself in. She’d see his stubborn and raise him one.

As soon as she stepped inside, memories rushed back to her. Her father had left nearly all the furniture when he’d moved out. The familiar old brown couch sat against the wall to the right. Her mother had always wanted it in the middle of the floor with a sofa table behind it. She’d wanted people who came to visit to mingle and feel comfortable. The television wasn’t in the same spot as she’d remembered, either. So many things were the same, yet completely different.

Liam’s stamp now imprinted the only home she’d ever known. Tennis shoes to the left of the entrance, wallet and keys on the small table by the door. A single coffee mug rested on the corner of the sink; a large stand mixer that looked quite expensive was on the counter. There were massive-looking free weights by the coffee table. The visual image of Liam pumping iron and sweating wasn’t something she needed. She was trying to mentally detach herself.

Apparently Liam wasn’t too keen on unpacking. The entire wall separating the living room from the main bedroom was lined with stacked boxes. Each one labeled with thick, black marker indicating the contents.

Macy had lived up here with her father until just a few months ago, when she’d gotten her own home. But this simple space would always be hers, no matter who else lived here.

Her eyes drifted to the wood trim around the door. The pencil lines and dates had her reaching out, trailing her fingertips over the visible memory. Such innocent times, such sweet nostalgia.

“I didn’t invite you in.”

Macy glanced over her shoulder, blinked back the moisture, and shrugged. “You didn’t lock the door, either.”

Liam stood in the doorway of the room she used to call her own. If he noticed her getting all teary, he didn’t say anything. Macy pushed her hair away from her face, cursing herself for leaving it down today. Ponytails were her best friend.

“I’m not being difficult,” she started. “I would be here no matter the tenant. I don’t expect you to do any repairs and I actually meant to replace the entire sink and faucet before you moved in, but I didn’t have time. That was the only thing I didn’t get to when we renovated.”

“I don’t need anything new, so don’t replace it on my account. I hope I’m not here very long.”

Macy froze. He’d leave Haven? His family? “What?”

Liam muttered a curse and turned toward the kitchen, which was only separated from the living area by a large center island. “Nothing. Just go on, Macy. I have things to do.”

He turned his back to her and started pulling things from the cabinet and the refrigerator. Macy wasn’t going to beg him to explain himself, nor was she going to beg him to let her fix the damn sink.

There was so much more going on between them than landlord/tenant. Whether he wanted to admit anything or not, Liam had feelings for her. Granted, most of the time it was disdain, but Macy could read men pretty well and she honestly thought he was masking his true feelings.

At least, that’s what she told herself, because the possibility that Liam truly thought of her as annoying and forgettable was too hurtful. But she had her pride and she damn well wasn’t giving any man power over her. She’d done that once in her life . . . and it cost her everything.

* * *

Liam waited until the door closed behind Macy. Damn it, he felt like an absolute jerk, but he couldn’t have her in his space.

Okay, fine, technically the apartment was hers. He was already reminded over and over of the fact she had grown up here. But he couldn’t have her physically in the apartment and maintain any form of sanity. Macy was everything he wasn’t and he didn’t need the reminder that she had her entire life all sorted out in perfect detail.

She knew what she wanted and went after her goals with a smile on her face. She’d been raised to be a third-generation business owner and she was doing just that. With her brand new house Zach had built, she was thriving.

What shocked Liam, though, was when he’d caught her touching the trim where her growth chart had been recorded. The shimmer in her eyes had rendered him speechless for a second because he’d never seen Macy as anything other than upbeat—or smart-mouthed, when she was talking to him. But never sad, and Liam knew for certain he never wanted to see her that way again.

Before that moment, he hadn’t thought of how difficult stepping into this apartment would be for her. He’d been thinking of this space as a personal failure, a hit to his pride, in coming home and having to stay here. This wasn’t what he wanted, what he planned. He’d had a great life in Savannah, one he desperately wanted to get back to.

But for Macy, this apartment, the store, and Haven were her entire life. She knew the path she wanted and hadn’t let anything steer her off course.

Bracing his palms on the edge of the island, Liam tried to focus on the recipe he’d thought of earlier today. Giving Macy too much of his mind time or inner emotions would only lead down a path he sure as hell wasn’t willing to go. Work was what he needed to hone in on so he could figure out how to keep his brothers happy, honor his late sister’s memory, and get out of Haven without damaging already rocky family relationships.

Monday a group of ladies were coming in, apparently for a week-long bachelorette party. An entire week of pampering, wedding chatter, and who knew what the hell else. Lord help them all. He’d never heard of such a thing, but whatever. Women were odd creatures and he wasn’t about to begin to try understanding them—he had enough of his own issues.

The thought of catering to a group of women celebrating marriage made him cringe, made that bitterness burn deeper in the pit of his stomach. But just because his relationship hadn’t worked out didn’t mean others wouldn’t, right? Besides, Chelsea had dreamed of this exact thing. Had hinged her entire life savings on women coming to Bella Vous to celebrate themselves, relationships with their friends, their families.

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