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“We work together, honey. Remember?” Liam gives me an apologetic shrug over Legs’s head. “The women I work with are not girlfriends, they’re my employees.”
A fact that we all need to be reminded of, apparently.
Because the whole “tattooed Liam cuddling a little girl” thing is making my brain—and my heart—do a whole lot of gymnastics. And neither are processing the very real fact that this still CANNOT make me feel things.
“Like Barb?” Legs asks with an adorable little tilt of her brow.
“Exactly.”
“But not Mindy?”
“No, sweetie. Mindy is your new Auntie.”
“Oh.” Legs falls into thoughtful silence for a moment, then launches into a story about her ballet class while the three of us walk to the car. I’m fine to stay silent though, I’m still not over the shock.
Liam straps Legs into her booster seat in the back, laughing quietly at something she said. When he gets back in the driver’s seat, I finally ask, “so, who’s Lana?”
Liam shoots me a funny look, then starts the car. “Lana Mae. She’s my sister. She’s—”
“My Mommy,” Legs adds. “She’s in Phoenix, Arizona.”
“For a business trip,” Liam clarifies. “She’s taking a course there for a couple weeks.”
Suddenly, the whole chauffeur chat makes a whole lot more sense.
There I was, thinking it was some kind of sexy euphemism for what Liam gets up to on his weekends, when really, he just meant… Babysitting.
“There’s a lot of cacti there,” Legs continues. “Did you know that cacti is the plural of cactus, Annie?”
“I do.” I twist around in my seat to face her. “I learned it in school. You did, too?”
“Yup.” She tugs at her leotard. “I’m eight now.”
Something clicks in my mind. A phone call made by an annoyed man on a plane who seemed very upset to be missing something. My eyes dart to Liam, and while he’s staring ahead impassively, I know he’s listening. “Was it your birthday recently?”
Her eyes light up. “Yes!”
“Happy belated birthday.” I smile. “Eight is good number.”
“How old are you, Annie?”
Liam rubs a hand over his face. “Legs, you can’t—”
“Twenty-six,” I answer, staring at Liam’s profile.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t supply his own age. Just looks at the road, poker-faced, as he turns off the highway and into a neighborhood lined with large trees and walking paths. Very family-friendly.
I wonder if Liam lives close to his sister. I pictured something more, I don’t know…
Dungeon-y. Like a batcave or something.
“Annie, are you coming to meet Harry Styles?” Legs pipes up.
Like, the celebrity? I’m about to respond when I glance at Liam. He’s smiling. A small, closed-lipped smile, but a smile nonetheless. Maybe he’s a big fan. A Styler, if you will.
It would make sense, considering his performance earlier.
“Oh, yes. You’re going to want to meet Harry Styles,” he adds with an uncharacteristic twinkle. “Let’s just hope he’s feeling better today, huh, Leggsy?”
