Over the weekend, I didn’t waste time hoping Mia would say I was being dramatic, that there was nothing to worry about with Stefan’s erratic behaviors. But hiring someone to watch me? The thought alone makes my skin crawl, more than when he admitted to going to the hotel that night, looking for me. It’s all so much more fucked up than I ever thought, and I don’t understand the point of it all.
Just to get me back? I’m not worth all this effort on Stefan’s end. That’s not a slight toward myself;no oneis worth all of this. We were miserable together. Not only me, but both of us.
Taking a deep breath, I turn on my blinker and head toward the back parking lot of Brighter Daze. The top is down but not even the beach air I love so much can calm my nerves.
On the other hand, it’s refreshing to have people in my corner. Regardless of our lawyer/client dynamic, Mia cares about me. We have a long history together, despite our larger age gap and our distant friendship. We live very different lives. All of that makes it easier to open up to her and burden her with my problems. It’s her job, butstill.
I know my siblings would be supportive if I gave them the chance but I don’t want to. I’ll have more answers in a few weeks, probably once the wedding festivities have slowed down. Once I have more information and an idea of a plan in place, I’ll tell my siblings about how far things have spiraled with Stefan. Hell, I’ll even tell my mother.
Not until then.
And Liam is just… Liam. If I had to label him as anything, it would be my best friend. I don’t want to tell him that in fear he’ll think I’m friend-zoning him. That’s not the case either. He’s the closest person in my life, and that title means a hell of a lot more to me than “boyfriend.” It’s what feels right for me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Calyspo
Liam gets out of my car to open the garage manually since the battery died yesterday. I don’t stop myself from appreciating his muscular physique, especially his ass that is perfectly sculpted in those jeans. We’re getting home from dinner with Stanley and Willa. I’d already met both of them hundreds of times, especially Stanley who gave Hudson his first job. It took some of the edge off, plus it was only the four of us. They went easy on me when all I’ve done is throw Liam into the lion’s den—over and over.
It’s been about three weeks since Liam and I had sex and talked to Mia.
And two weeks since he was supposed to find another rental.
We never really talked about it, as we so rarely do (thanks to me). There were a few times I caught Liam looking through rental sites. Not that he was doing anything wrong, but he’d close his screen every time. He never does that. So, I figured he was avoiding the subject as much as I was. Instead of asking if he wanted to stay at my house, I just… kept making plans.
I asked if he wanted to try a new recipe the following week, but I purposefully picked a day he’d have to stop atthe grocery store. I ordered Rosie an adorable outdoor dog bed. It’s a hollowed out strawberry so she has shade. It went on the back deck on the day of the three week mark.
He tested the waters himself, asking if he could install a dog door for Rosie. He even went as far as leaving a few hundred dollars on the counter with a note that said “bills.” If he’s staying longer, I’m willing to take his money. It’s a silent declaration that he’s not just a “guest” anymore.
Every day we fall into more and more of a routine. We have sex multiple times a week, which isamazingevery single time. Liam doesn’t only enjoyputting my pleasure first, he insists on it. However, sex hasn’t taken over our relationship. It would be easy considering how little I give him emotionally most days. Why wouldn’t Liam treat this as if it were nothing more than a physical connection?
Instead, sex is a bonus to everything else we’ve established together. Our evenings are always ours to enjoy, at least when one of us doesn’t have to work late. We cook, or order in, and spend time relaxing. Bravo and puzzles are still our typical plans—he’s on his fifth puzzle. Some nights I research new recipes while he draws in his sketchbook; he does that more often than a month ago, too. And other days, we have dinner with my siblings or Lucas and Knox.
Pulling into the garage, Liam slides the door shut behind me and meets me at the driver’s side.
“I’ll take the leftovers in.” He grabs the tupperware out of my hands before helping me out of the car.
Not to jinx ourselves, but it’s been calm—enjoyable. Of course I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I try not to worry about that more than necessary.
Mia hasn’t heard back from her PI contact, but I was warned it could take up to two months before we hear anything. Considering he has to go through the last five years of Stefan’s life, with a bigger focus on the last three, I assume it will take the full sixty days. A large part of myself wants this to be over and done with, but I’m also worriedabout what he’ll find. Of how much more sinister Stefan is capable of getting.
Neither he nor Ruby have been around, at least not that Liam or I have seen. I’m not foolish enough to believe he’s suddenly gotten bored. Between showing up at my house and making a scene, then barging into Brighter Daze, he’s becoming more erratic. There’s nothing Stefan cares more about than his image, though, so maybe he’s backing off after his public missteps. Who fucking knows.
“Hi, hi,” I say quietly as Rosie jumps at my ankles. She’s usually calmer than this, but Liam and I have both been out for most of the day.
As Liam is putting the food away, I shuffle through the mail he brought in earlier. It’s mostly bills and random subscriptions I don’t remember signing up for, but one envelope catches my eye. The maroon paper is secured with an intricate poppy wax seal. Slowly, I flip it over, expecting to find Stefan’s name on the other side. What is there hurts even worse
To: Calypso Davies
From: Kelvin Michaelson and Juniper Owens
Ripping open the paper, my mind races, trying to figure out who the fuckKelvinis. My heart knows before my brain sees it.
“Join us for the wedding of Kelvin Michaelson and Juniper Owens!”
I read that one line a dozen times, positive that I’m not comprehending it correctly. Except it doesn’t change—those eleven words stay the same.
My best friend is getting married. I should sayex-best friend, considering how she just walked out one day—not only on me, but on Asher too. It’s hard to hate her when I know as much about her as I do—about her mom and her past. Sometimes the anger festers into loathing, even years later.
