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I cannot for the life of me manage to get my body to cool off and relax: I take a tepid shower and change into my favorite purple space-themed pjs, brush my teeth and pop my retainer in. I wash my face and apply serum, moisturizer, and then a sticky layer of Vaseline to hold it all in (it’s called “slugging,” and according to Tiktok, it stops you getting forehead wrinkles, okay?)
Then, I take my contacts out and peer blindly at myself in the mirror. You’d think a mouthful of plastic, a faceful of petroleum jelly, and frumpy pajamas with Jupiter on the front would put me in a less sexy mood. But apparently not.
Each and every one of those searing kisses left a brand on me. Burned me, marked me, to the point that, over an hour later, my skin is still hot, my lips are still swollen, and my head is still full of cartoon hearts swirling around in a dizzying circle.
After that disaster of a first meeting with his father, Liam whisked me away to the riverside, and poured his heart out to me.
Then, we kissed for what felt like forever before he broke away from me, checked his watch, and reluctantly commented on how late it was. Said that he should get me back to my room safe and sound.
I wanted to yank the watch right off his wrist and toss it in the river, scream at the top of my lungs “but I’m not done with you yet! You can’t just get me all worked up and then suggest we stop kissing so we can sleep! Who needs sleep, anyway?!”
But obviously, that might’ve looked a tad insane. And it really was late—Liam was probably exhausted from putting those incredible lips to such good use.
So instead of having a tantrum, I let him walk me back to my room. I practically swooned in the hallway as he chastely kissed me goodnight, like he was a perfect gentleman who hadn’t just spent the last hour devouring me. As he walked away, his eyes held a devilish secret glint that told me he was replaying every single second of it in his mind.
As I have been ever since he left.
Despite our obstacles: me being his employee, the unconventional way we met, this doesn’t feel like a mistake at all.
I’ve never been one to believe in the universe and the stars aligning and all that nonsense. But I do believe I’ve found true love—and if the universe aligned for that to happen… well, I’ll just have to be happy that I was wrong about all that fate stuff.
For so long, I focused on my mistakes. Was desperate not to make another one. But in this moment, I can see that my “mistakes” have led me here, to Liam.
It’s where I want to be.
He’s who I want to be with.
He’s taught me so much about being selfless and putting other people’s needs before your own. And right now, all I want to do is put him first. Let him know he comes first.
Before I know it, I’m on my feet and running down the hallway, barefoot and scrunchie-haired and greasy-faced as can be.
When I get to his room, I knock loudly.
Knock again.
Eventually, a bleary-eyed, tousle-haired Liam answers. Wearing only a pair of flannel pajama pants.
Holy freaking mother of all cannolis.
When Liam sees me, the corners of his mouth lift.
“Hey, you.” He rubs his palm over his eye. “Nice space get-up.”
Then, he sees my expression. Raises a brow. “Is everything okay?”
“Can I… come in?”
He doesn’t hesitate. He simply steps aside, holds the door open for me.
* * *
His room smells like him.
I stand there, hovering awkwardly in the middle of the space and trying not to focus too much on the grand king bed at the center.
“So.” He gives me a lopsided little smile as he comes to stand in front of me. “You’re here because…”
“I love you!” I practically shout. “I love you, Liam, and I don’t want to keep this quiet or keep things between us. I want to be with you, for real.”
