“You asked for bread?”
Warm flour mixes with the plethora of scents wafting around our apartment. It’s fresh. And the sight of it is stronger than any arrow Cupid could aim my way.
“When?” I all but squeak. I only sent one text message this morning asking for bread, and it was way more forthcoming about my bowel situation than I would ever want to be with the man who got the nicknameTootsto stick Senior year.
“Maybe an hour ago? Sorry it took so long. I was in a meeting.”
“But I—” I stammer. “I texted Maria. She bought me bread.”
“No, you didn’t. I just got you a stick because you always want one,” Maria adds from her bedroom. Apparently, she’s too busy to save me from my ass but has plenty of time for eavesdropping.
I wince, worst fears confirmed, glancing at his phone and holding in another panic toot. “Please tell me I didn’t send you—”
“My ass is bleeding, and I’m dying. Can you grab me a baguette so I can lube it up with Nutella and shove it down my throat? Thank Xanadu, I don’t have a gag reflex. *Raised hands* *Raised hands* Love you!” His gold flecks mischievously reconnect with mine. “I don’t know what I love most, the gag reflex tidbit or that last part.”
“The last little bit should have been a hint it wasn’t for you,” I grumble, willing the heat in my cheeks to settle as a bit of gas escapes.
“I didn’t know if it was part of our agreement. Speaking of which—can I?” He motions inside the apartment, but I don’t want him walking where I crop-dusted.
“Don’t you have work or something more important to worry about?”
He shrugs, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “I finished what I needed to so I could come here.”
“To bring me bread?”
“Ass bleeding doesn’t sound pleasant.”
I hug my water bottle tighter against my abdomen. “Not my favorite.”
Maria sighs, exiting her bedroom. “Evie, why haven’t you let him in yet? Come. Come.”
Begrudgingly, I open the door wider, discreetly fanning behind me, and allow Liam entrance. “He’s not staying. Just came to check on me on his way elsewhere.”
I’m not trying to be rude or ungrateful here. But I’m on the precipice of my day breaking in one of two ways. Either my flare will be manageable, and I’ll be able to control it well enough after baking. Or I’m about to have a no-relief, torture, and agony kind of day filled with graceless, vulnerable moments and farts.
I’m not ready for Liam to see that part of me, and I need the freedom to be a mess today.
“Evie.”
“Maria.”
“You need to take your big meds.”
“Yes.”
“And I have to go meet a new client. Please, for the sake of your friend and our apartment, ask him to stay.”
I scowl. Maria’s only pulling this guilt trip because she’s playing matchmaker. I can handle anything that today will throw my way just fine. Always do.
“Think of the eyebrows, dear.”
Oh. Low blow.
“That was one time, and they grew back!” I grit out.
Maria continues to match my stare, and my shoulders deflate. “Fine. Liam, would it be a terrible imposition to ask you to stay with me for a few hours?”
“How can I say no when you seem so eager to have me?” The corners of his lips tip into the beginnings of a smile.
