I frowned at her and took a step back. “Nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That look wasn’t nothing.” She paused. “Something happened.”
“He said he got in a bar fight.”
With every word, Abigail’s nod got faster and more pronounced. “I knew it,” she whispered.
I stared at her. She was connecting dots that I couldn’t even see. “You knew what?”
She deadpanned. “A man doesn’t do what you said that man did for his assistant.” She air-quoted the last word.
“What are you talking about?” I needed her to stop. Right now.
“It makes so much sense.” She was staring directly behind me like the answer to her unasked question was written there.
“What makes so much sense?” I asked as I followed her gaze. Just as I thought, the wall was blank.
“That man loves you, but he had to let you go because it wasn’t safe.” She pumped her fist in the air and then shot me a triumphant smile like her work was finally done.
So many emotions ran through me. Sure, her theory made some sense. A guy in love with a girl wouldn’t keep her around if being with him meant she and her son were in danger. And from what I knew of Liam, he was the kind of guy who’d put me first. There were plenty of times where he could have just walked away and left me to fend for myself, but he hadn’t.
But this wasn’t a Jane Austen novel, and Liam wasn’t Mr. Darcy. This was reality, and my life had taught me over and over again that I was not the main character of some love story. My happily ever after was not coming.
And it wasn’t fair that Abigail was encouraging me to believe otherwise.
“Even if that was true, I’m in Harmony and he’s in Florida. I’ll believe that he loves me when he knocks on the door with some grand romantic gesture to take me away.” I kept my expression flat so she would know exactly what I thought of her theory.
Just as the last word left my lips, there was a knock on the door. My heart began to pound as I shifted my gaze from Abigail over to the door. When I looked back at Abigail, her gaze was wild with excitement.
“That’s not…” My voice trailed off as I moved so I could see the TV screen. I needed to verify that, yes, Liam was standing behind the woman who was speaking now. “He’s there.”
Abigail had my arm in her clutches, and she was shaking it. “Go answer the door,” she squealed.
My mind was racing and my entire body felt like it was on fire. I was trying to process what was happening. I was attempting to ground myself in reality, but Abigail’s energy was too much. It was rubbing off on me.
“Go, go,” she chanted as she let go of my arm and started pushing me toward the door, where the knocking had become more insistent.
“Abi—stop—” I tried to speak, but I could only manage out a few half words before I was standing right in front of the door. Now that I was here, I felt frozen.
If Liam was on the other side, what was I going to say to him? If it was Liam—and I really doubted it was—the last thing I wanted was to have our reconciliation moment with my hair half curled. I reached up and pulled out the clip that was holding my hair back.
I glanced over at Abigail, who had slipped into the shadows of the kitchen. Her smile was wide and her gaze insistent as she studied me and then flicked her gaze toward the door.
My entire body felt numb and on fire at the same time. Images of Liam standing on the other side of the door, similar to our first morning together at Harmony Inn, flashed through my mind.
The sound of my beating heart whooshed through my ears.
There was no way Abigail was going to let me continue standing at the door without answering, so I took a deep breath, wrapped my fingers around the handle and turned.
I pulled the door open and froze. My brain tried to process what I was looking at. A middle-aged man with glasses and a hat with My Sons Move stitched on it was standing in front of me with a clipboard and a confused expression.
“Are you Abigail?” he asked.
“Is it him?” Abigail attempted a whisper but failed.
All of the adrenaline that had been pumping through my veins vanished. My head felt light, and the world around me began to tilt. The mover must have noticed because he knit his eyebrows together and took a step forward. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I couldn’t speak. My head hurt. My finger hurt. And my damn heart hurt.
