I march toward Eli, but the pull to glance one last time at his betrayal is too great.
Liam’s stare collides with mine. He rakes an agitated hand through his neatly coifed hair, and a spark flickers, reigniting embers long since smoldered in the far corners of my soul.
I can’t believe Eli would do this to me. Seriously! A little warning would have been nice!
Day-old makeup adorns my face. My hair’s disheveled, and there’s no way this shift dress is hiding the Violet Beauregard level of bloat happening today.
A rush of adrenaline spirals through me. My pulse races as a cold, massive panic falls from the pit of my stomach, moving down toward the muscles in my legs, which wobble before stiffening into heavy, useless appendages. What the actual fuck?
Whatever you do, Evie, keep walking. Hide the panic. And Stop. Staring.
But I can’t pull my focus off Liam. There are no other people, no other sounds.
“Evie.Evie!Pole.”
And apparently no sense of spatial awareness.
Maria’s warning registers too late, and my face and the hard metal lamppost meet with such a force it knocks me onto my behind, my body and my head hitting the sidewalk and an expansive puddle.
The pride-shattering clang of aluminum clattering to the cobblestones follows.
Crap. My cheese.
“Shit, O’Shea.” Liam’s dark figure looms over me. My vision blurs. Pain surges through my head.
2
Glazed and Confused
Thesidewalk’scoldreachworks its tendrils under my coat and wraps around my spine. Goosebumps rise on my skin as a wild, sporadic, no-sense-of-coherency rhythm beats forcefully against my chest.
Am I dying? Is this Hell?
Blinking away the watery film hazing my vision, Wonder Boy’s impressive scowl is brought into focus, the grim expression at odds with the Cheshire grin seared into my memory. He scratches at his stubble, arguing with Eli a few paces away.
Bile pools in my throat. I’ve stared at Liam for longer than medically advisable, but I can’t pull my focus off him.
He’s here, the boy I married at age five in the wedding of the century and divorced at age seven when he had the audacity to throw a football at me while I was readingEloise in Parison the porch. He muddied the whole damn book. Our relationship never recovered.
Hades masquerading as Hercules, and only I could see it.
That was part of the game—rile me up and then act the part of the angel when I bit back so, even victorious, I lost.
Here’s looking at you, debutante ball.
A stone sinks into the pit of my stomach. Haunting memories I spent years burying with pastries and a healthy dosing of ganache threaten to claw their way to the surface with his sudden presence in my life.
Think of something—anything,really—except that cursed ball.
“Why don’t you give in and admit I’ve won, Peaches? Aren’t you tired of the chase?”Liam’s voice teases in my brain. Oh dammit. Well, at least it’s something else.
The night before I left for Paris, Liam’s forearm rested above my head in the corner of our college bar, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face as if he knew how badly I wanted him. Against my better judgment, my chin tilted up, lips parted, heartbeat and breath turned heavy and erratic. My body forever betrayed the history I knew well.
I wanted Liam Kelly leaning in for a different reason, something fierce. I wanted there to be more behind his teasing. After years of battling the boy next door, someone who made my blood boil and my head ache, my traitorous body’s decision our junior year of high school to suddenly all-but-swoon in his presence wasn’t appreciated, nor was his growing new torture tactic, replacing his annoying-but-harmless pranks with something far more devastating.
I wasn’t “tired of the chase.” I’d burned the fuck out, always finishing second with my family’s affection, brother’s attention, academics, and other school accolades. My chronic illness automatically placed me a good five steps behind him, navigating life through the heavy filter of endometriosis-induced chronic fatigue and missing a week of classes monthly on account of my period. I pushed myself until I collapsed from exhaustion, only to lose to a boy who approached everything with a lazy smile and a charming cheek dimple.
And yet, as burned out as I felt, the fire still flickered. However dangerous it was. Like nothing could ever smother the intense reaction he elicited whenever he was around.
