Liam mentions his mom and sisters often, even his stepdad who he seems to have a good relationship with. We’ve never gotten into the details despite him having a front row seat to my family’s chaos multiple times a week.
He tilts his head back and forth, thinking it over. “Yes and no. Jo, my youngest sister, had the hardest time with the move. We’re the closest though, and she’s in a relationship that needs to end but she can’t let it go. That made it hard,” he admits.
“Yeah, I get that.”
I think back to when Vivi left for college at eighteen with her horrible ex-best friend and ex-fiancé. I was twenty-two and already married to Stefan. Even though she was only leaving for LA, it was the hardest goodbye I’ve ever had to give—especially because we both knew we were going to need each other. We just didn’t know how soon.
That’s when Vivi and Lexi’s friendship came to be. Around the same time my best friend broke up with Asher and moved across the country with barely a word.
Unaware of my spiraling thoughts, Liam continues, “My other three sisters all have their own lives and families. We talk a lot, and have a group chat of course—”
I chuckle. “Of course.It’s a rule.”
“Exactly,” he says with a wink. “That made it easier. My mom cried, but she would cry when I called to say hello when I still lived in Portland. That’s just her.”
I’m smiling, taking in this look into his life. Unlike me, Liam doesn’t need to be prompted after every other sentence to keep talking. Without having to ask, he tells me about the year his mom met Paul along with stories of the five of them growing up. Throughout the conversation, he turns the questions back on me—asking about when we moved to Amada Beach and coaxing out nostalgic stories to match his own.
The hour and a half it takes to prepare the food ends up feeling like five minutes.
Liam was much more helpful than he initially gave himself credit for. Though, I do have experience trying to teach Asher, who could win a contest for being the worst chef possible, how to cook. So, while I don’t judge, my bar was on the ground at first.
The man really can follow directions well—something I love in and outside of the bedroom.
Before I finished putting everything on to cook, the one step I would rather always do myself, I handed him a bottle of wine and corkscrew. He didn’t need any help figuring that out.
Looking over my shoulder, I expect to find him nearby, or right on the other side of the island. It takes me a few seconds to spot him sitting on the floor by my stairs. Grabbingthe glass of wine he poured for me, I walk over and sit next to him.
“Impressive collection,” he muses appreciatively and pulls Mayday Parade’sA Lesson in Romanticsoff the shelf of CDs. It’s one of my all time favorites.
Taking a sip, I nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”
He quickly flips through a few. “Most of these are signed.”
“Yup,” I say proudly.
I spent a lot of time, and money, going to as many concerts as I could; I had a knack for meeting a lot of my favorite bands. It was something I eventually grew out of, but most of my favorite memories are from those nights.
“I have a shitty tattoo, and you have years’ worth of memorabilia,” he jokes, referring to his skeletonrock onhand. It’s one of his worst tattoos, but one of my favorites.
I shrug and pull out theWarped TourCompilation CDs that are covered in an overlapping mess of autographs. Most of them are indistinguishable but that was the point.
Handing one to him, I say, “To think we could have met in Pomona.”
He takes it, looking at it fondly. That was the year Liam got his first tattoo. He has his own memories of going to shows.
Tilting his head, he admits, “I think about it sometimes; how the fuck had we never met before? I mean, Warped Tour is one thing, but you were a student at the same dance studio as Mia. You and Lucas were in the same grade.”
I’ve contemplated the same questions.
Did we never end up at the same parties? Lucas and I weren’t close but our circles would have overlapped.
Did we ever meet and I just didn’t remember it? I can’t imagine forgetting Liam at any point in my life.
There’s one answer I do have. “The only time Pippa mixes the different age levels is for the winter recital. If you mostly visited during the summers, Mia and I wouldn’t have performed together.”
He nods but it’s more in acknowledgement than acceptance. He’s still running through the same questions, over and over.
I get it.
