Chapter Seventeen
Calypso
The seconds tick by, counting down to Liam’s arrival. Mentally, I mean. I haven’t owned an analog clock in over a decade but my heart is keeping pace just fine. I’m stress cleaning my apartment, which will lead to anxiety cooking.
Why did I agree to this?
I don’t want a “roomie,” or for Liam to get so comfortable here he never leaves. It’ll be worse if he can’t even last the full three weeks and sneaks out in the middle of the night. Well, I think Liam would have more respect for me, even in that situation, but I’d prefer it to a conversation.
So many possibilities of what could happen, and each one makes me more nauseous than the last.
The overfilled grocery bags on the counter taunt me, reminding me I left work early to stop by the market. I’m telling myself now, like I did earlier, that if there’sanythingto look forward to, it’s having someone else to cook for.
Doing it for myself feels like a waste—of time and food. Sunday dinners arealwayshosted by my mom, Selena, and Tim. Overall, I don’t mind. It’s important to them, and since Sunday is my only consistent day off, Itryto enjoy it as much as possible.
But having Liam here will give me the chance to sharpen my cooking skillsandtry a few of those recipes I’ve been saving for years.
The thought puts a small,minisculehop in my step. Straightening up only takes a few minutes. I’m a clean, but not always tidy, person. I have a tendency to leave my shoes and forgotten cups lying around. Just normal things that happen while going through my day.
It’s the first time Liam will beinside. He met me here when I drove us to Asher’s, and he’s dropped me off a few times. This feels different, though. Important.
By the time he knocks on the door, I’m starting to lay out the ingredients as I sip a glass of wine.
I chug the rest before going to open the door.
With a deep breath, I put on my best uninterested expression—the one I perfected years ago that somehow always fails in Liam’s presence.
“Hey,roomie,” I say with a mocking grin.
He shakes his head like there’s a sour taste on his tongue. “You’re so right about these things.Roomieis not it.”
Stepping forward, he holds a leash in one hand and cradles my neck as he places a kiss on my cheek. “Hi, honey.”
Little tingles shoot down my arms, but I keep from shaking them out. That sounds good—too fucking natural—for it to be the first time Liam’s greeting me as he gets home.
Tomyhome, I mean.
Mentally slapping myself, I cross my arms and look down at the long-haired dachshund. “So, this is your dog.”
She’s cute, I’ll give her that.
Rosie is mostly black with a few brown spots on her paws and ears. Her big onyx eyes are staring up at me like I’ve hung the moon, but I’m sure she acts like this with anyone. She’s not jumping or barking, which I appreciate.
I’m not heartless, I just don’t like the types of messes babies and dogs make. It’s nottheirfault, but it’s good toknow your own boundaries. No pets has always been a strict rule of mine—until today, I suppose.
“This is her. Rosie,” Liam says affectionately.
At her name, she jumps onto her back legs and yips before falling on her back, waiting for belly rubs. Liam, the fucking sucker, kneels and complies.
The image should be hilarious—this big, intimidating man and his teeny, tiny wiener dog.
Unfortunately for me, it’s endearing as fuck.
“Come on,” I say and lightly kick his knee.
He scoops up Rosie and stands. As he unbuckles her leash and harness, I close the door and turn back around. Leaning against it, I watch Liam take in my house for the first time.
The downstairs isn’t big but it’s a spacious open floor plan. It has less of a beachy vibe than Asher’s house, but I live closer to the city than the ocean.
