“Ah—sorry,” I said, smiling awkwardly.
Please don’t let him comein.
Please don’t lethim—
I picked up the phone again.
James:Is that the lift man? The actual lift man? YOU DIDN’T TELL ME HE WAS BUILT LIKE A SECURITYDOOR!!!
Me:Stop looking through windows like astalker.
James:I will not. You are on a DATE! With a man who could physically reassemble you if youbroke!
I glanced up. Liam was politely pretending not to notice.
Me:It’s not a date. We’re justeating.
James:Please. Every hookup starts with people “just eating.” ORDER SOMETHING STRONG AND BE THE WOMAN YOU WERE MEANT TO BE. DO IT FORME!!!
I muted my phone and turned it face down before he could send another paragraph ending in exclamation marks.
“Sorry about that, my phone won’t shut up,” I said.
“More work stuff?”
“Just my friend. The one from the… er… window.” I tipped my head toward the glass. “He thinks I’m on a date.”
He made a sound through his nose like a laugh. “I see. Aren’t we?”
What? Was he…hittingon me?
“I don’t think either of us would want that,” I said quickly. “I’m basically a walking hazard sign right now.”
I still couldn’t believe what had happened with Rudy—how fast someone you loved could turn on you without warning.
Liam leaned back in his chair and looked out the window. “Same.”
Oh.
“It’s been a shitty few months,” he added, almost offhand. He tipped the rest of his sherry down his throat. “Getting stuck in a lift with you has actually been a highlight.” He gave a crooked smile. “Pretty grim, I know.”
We sat there for a moment. The sherry felt warm in my stomach, and when I lifted my glass again, my hand had stopped shaking.
The paninis arrived with a clatter of plates and cutlery.
“Another sherry, please,” I said. What the hell. I could always leave my car here overnight if I had to. I gave Liam a look like I was daring him to stop me.
Liam didn’t hesitate. “I’ll have one too, thanks.”
Hmm. Okay. The waiter nodded and disappeared.
“God, listen to us.” Liam shook his head. “Hanging on by a thread.”
“Right? At this rate, we’ll need name badges and a weekly meeting.”
“Bare minimum,” he said dryly. “At the very least, a regular supply of sherry.”
“If you’re after a therapist, I’ve got this?” I picked up my bag and offered it to him.
