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I was quiet for a minute, respectful of what he’d been through and the cost of sharing it with me. “Liam, we haven’t known each other long, but at the very least, you know I’m not another fresh-from-college, looking-for-a-good-time twentysomething. I have Laurel, and I had Sienna to look after before my daughter came along. My life has always been... real... and I’m not looking to run away.”
“That’s just my point.” Liam pushed up, sliding me off his back. “You never got a childhood, and you won’t get to experience your twenties the way others will—the way I did. You were forced to grow up fast, and now you’re asking why I won’t be a part of it. Are you looking to be a twenty-four-year-old stepmother? Is your life’s dream to be in your thirties with a resentful teenager who hates you just a bit extra because you’re here and her mother isn’t? All of that with the burden of thirty-five years’ worth of my issues.”
“Liam—”
He held up his hand, silencing me better than a shout.
“We’re at different places in our life, Mackenzie. It wouldn’t work.”
“I don’t believe that,” I said, picking up Laurel.
“I do. We’re friends.” An air of finality hung over us as he squeezed my hand. “I hope we always are.”
I said nothing, and he walked away. What was I supposed to do? Beg, plead, and humiliate myself even more? Or worse, tell him I wanted to remain friends too when that was furthest from the truth.
Laurel whined, rubbing her eyes.
“It’s okay, baby girl.” I rested her head on my shoulder. “Let’s get dry and take our nap.”
I found the playgroup moms and grabbed a lawn chair. Laurel had her fun, but she was clearly ready to wind down. After I changed her into dry clothes, she fell asleep on my chest and napped until it was time to leave.
Liam and I didn’t say much on the drive—a fact that wasn’t noticeable over Tricky’s excited chatter. We didn’t speak at all at McDoodle’s. Liam busied himself with Elizabeth while I spoke to the other moms. Back at the compound, we strode side by side out of the parking garage.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you the reason I came over,” I began. “Sunny mentioned you were having trouble hunting down Luca. I was with him for a few months. I know some of his friends and where he likes to go. Maybe I can narrow the search down.”
“Anything you know would help. I can’t act on the information tonight, but stop by in the morning. We’ll talk then.”
“Okay.”
“Good evening.”
Our awkward goodbye left us free to part ways at the elevators.
I thought about what Liam said during dinner, while putting Laurel to bed, and in the middle of movie night. I might’ve kept obsessing if Sunny hadn’t pulled me into his room and showed me the many additional uses for whipped cream and honey.
A sticky, thoroughly fucked mess lay beside him that night. Too sticky to get comfortable and fall asleep. Every time I flipped, the glued-on bedsheet tried to come with me. Slipping out of his bed, I took the baby monitor with me, crept across the hall to my room and climbed in the shower. I didn’t notice thoughts of Liam following me inside, but as I stood under the spray, there they were.
I both understood his reasons and was pissed off by them. I wasn’t some fun-loving, unattached airhead who couldn’t think past the next party. I didn’t want to be one either. Obviously, I wished some things had gone differently and my mother wasn’t in jail for murder. Ditto wishing Luca Adams was never born. But never for a second did I regret becoming a young mom, or that tough circumstances strengthened my relationship with Sienna.
Like I told Liam, I had a lot of time to think about the life I wanted, and in my dream future, I was safe, healthy, and surrounded by people who loved me. If among those people were a grumpy teenage Elizabeth and her hot, stubborn father, that was more than fine with me.
I should tell him. Give him a dose of honesty in return. At least if I get it all out and he still says no, I won’t look back later and regret not fighting for us to have a chance.
Mind made up, I wrapped myself in a towel and made for the phone on my nightstand. I blew out a long breath, and let it all spill out.
Me: When I was eight, I turned a corner without seeing the dog tied to the pole. It snapped at me, coming so close I felt its hot breath on my face. For years after, I wouldn’t go near a dog. Big or small, fluffy or short-haired, docile or sleeping. At that point, the fear was more real than the actual experience. It didn’t matter that the leash did what it was supposed to do, all that I could think about was almost.
