“But that cup is twenty ounces. I can’t—”
“Hey, Rebecca.” Liam’s hand presses on my shoulder as he leans over me. He flashes his big grin, and the worry I won’t get the amount of coffee needed dissipates. I venture those dimples could get Liam just about anything, and I’m thankful to have them on my side for once. “She just got off the flight/layover combination from hell, I—uhm—overdid it at a bachelor party last night, and we have a family dinner neither of us are looking forward to, so whatever you feel comfortable doing, maybe a triple shot, if you could please do it and make it a double, we will be eternally grateful.”
“I’ll hook you two up.” She nods with a wink.
A man in the New England uniform of choice, a Red Sox shirt and a flannel, cleaning the steamed milk handle further down the bar, picks his head up at the sound of Liam’s voice and focuses his attention our way. “Hey, you’re back!” he chimes. His eyes meet mine. “Oh, is this—”
“The friend Eli and I were meeting in Paris, yeah,” Liam cuts him off with a quick shake of his head, like he’s sending Paul some kind of non-verbal message.
I peek skeptically at Liam.Friend?How many friends does he dress up like Gene Kelly for?
“Not that she’s my friend now—” He swallows.
“Have we discussed what we are, exactly?” I nudge his shoulder with mine, giggling at the flush creeping up his neck.
He exhales, mumbling, “I’m too tired for this shit today. Hey, Paul, this is Evie, the woman that Eli teased me about nonstop and whom I talked about periodically.” He crosses his arms, staring at me. “Does that satisfy you, Peaches?”
“Yes, actually.” I stick my tongue out at him, and his fake scowl surrenders to the tips of a smile.
“Ah, you mean the one you quit drinking beer and obsessively gave up carbs for. Well, it’s nice to finally meet the famous Evie.” Paul winks, wiping his hand on his towel before extending it to me for a shake. God bless that man for that ammunition. Liam groans next to me, probably having a similar thought. “Did you see we sold another lighthouse print while you were gone?”
My spine straightens with attention. “What print?”
Liam twists his panicked expression into one of indifference, and okay, now I really need to know what he’s hiding. “It’s nothing you’d be interested in,” he says, studying his fingernails.
“Yeah, I’m not buying that performance.” I snort.
“Go show her, dude. You’re terrible.” Paul hooks his thumb down a long brick wall lined with hanging Edison light bulbs. “I’ll make sure Rebecca gets you enough coffee for the day.”
Begrudgingly, Liam takes me by the hand, pulling me down past a row of tables to a wall of photos printed on canvas. Various landscapes grace the wall, gardens in bloom, a bridge stretched wide over a body of water, and brick buildings aglow in the rising sun.
“You took these?” I reach a hand out, running my fingers over a garden shot, the ocean in the back, sailboats floating by in the afternoon sun.
“Just a hobby I have. The one I took of a lighthouse at sunset keeps selling,” he says bashfully, gesturing to an open space on the wall before crossing his arms and closing himself off. “I’ll have to ask Paul if he wants another copy of that or try something from Paris.”
“You took some in Paris? When?”
“I got up a few mornings and then did the bridges at sunset, too, like someone recommended.” Leaning over, he nudges my shoulder with his.
“You do have an odd fascination with my bridge blog entry.” I shake my head, eyes still scanning the gallery of pictures on the wall. In the chaos of the past month, if Liam was dragging himself up early for a hobby, then this is what he should be doing. I would only do that for the perfect laminated pastry—I would only do that for my passion.
He snakes an arm around my waist and tugs me tighter against him.
“Why do you keep hiding these amazing parts of yourself?” I whisper, resting my head on his shoulder. “See this—this is amazing.” I point to a picture of a chain-link fence with locks hung along it glittering in the sun. A blue expanse of water runs behind it with a two-tower seafoam bridge looming in the distance. “This shouldn’t be just a hobby.”
Liam’s fingers twitch on my side. “Our coffees should be ready,” he deflects, cheeks red.
“You’re lucky I didn’t know compliments got you so flustered, or I would have started giving them long ago.”
“You want to go for a walk and see that bridge? I think getting some of that sea breeze air would be good.” He ignores me, pivoting toward the counter.
“Yes, and I can stare at your handsome face while it’s happening.” I pause, studying his photos one last time before following him back to the counter. A few steps behind him, I seize the opportunity to appreciate how Liam’s dark-washed jeans highlight specific assets of his. “Or maybe I’ll just keep two steps behind you.”
“Why would you—thanks, Rebecca.” He takes our cups and then twists, peering over his shoulder. His muscular shoulder blades bunch in his T-shirt as he peeks at me, absolutely busted. “I regret making you like me.” He shakes his head, handing me my cup as I do a weird little dance because I’m running on the fumes of a twenty-hour flight and I don’t know what to do with myself. “Go back to hating me. This is unsettling when I haven’t slept.”
“Oh no, I’m enjoying being the sunshine to your grump for once.” I shimmy my shoulders. “Who knew our point of role reversal was lack of sleep?”
Liam glares at me over the lid of his cup. “I suddenly understand your annoyance with me. Seriously, what’s with the dance?”
