Page 120 of Mostly Loathing You

We continue recapping my travels, both from today and from touring withMaybe, Definitely, No. I ask where Jackson is, and she lets me know that he’s still sleeping and well—neither of us are particularly surprised by that.

“Have you and Liam talked?”

I nod in response.

She grins. “Does he know you’re home?”

I nod again.

“I see.”

She stares at me for a moment before I roll my eyes. “Spit it out, Viv.”

“What is going on with you guys?”

I start to respond, but then I realize that I don’t actually know.

Liam and I have spoken frequently over the past few months while I was gone, and we’ve pushed the line between friends and more—a lot—but as for specifics, I have no idea.

“Not really sure.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh as I set my mug down on the countertop. “He really hurt me. I told him I needed time to focus on me and he gave me that, but now I worry that maybe I held off too long.”

“Why would you think that?”

“What kind of man just waits months for a woman to decide if she wants to be with him?”

“The kind that knows what he wants and is clearly in love with her,” a male voice rings from behind me, and I find myself hoping it’s Liam, though I know it’s not.

I don’t mean to appear so disappointed when Jackson comes into view, but it’s glaringly obvious.

“Happy to see you too, bug,” he laughs as he steps into my space, wrapping me in a hug.

I hope that his walking in is the end of the discussion, but he latches onto the topic like a vise.

“Have you called Liam?” Jackson doesn’t even pretend to entertain pleasantries as he steps toward the coffee machine and pours a cup of black coffee from the pot.

“How do you drink it like that?”

“Don’t deflect, answer the question.”

I sigh as his eyes meet mine before settling against the counter. “I texted him before the plane left New York and he had my flight details. He knows I’m home.”

“You didn’t call or text him when you landed?”

The moment I shake my head, Jackson laughs.

“You’re going to give that man a complex.”

I shrug as I say, “Meh, builds character.”

“Hannah,” Jackson chuckles.

“Fine, I’ll call him.” I push away from the counter to walk down the hallway to the foyer, allowing myself the slightest bit of privacy. Although, I’d bet they can hear everything from the kitchen anyway.

The line starts to ring and my stomach forms into knots. Liam and I have talked on the phone and on FaceTime at length, but something about being back in Atlanta, knowing I’ll see him soon, causes butterflies to take flight in my stomach.

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