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Liam left me alone in his place while he went to park his car.
The night I’d been here I hadn't paid attention to the space. Now I noticed how stunning it was. Calling it spacious didn't do it justice. With a full wall of windows, the view of the Common and the city beyond was spectacular. The Charles River wended its way by in the distance, separating Boston from Cambridge.
I wandered into the kitchen, running my fingers over the smooth coolness of the dark granite countertops. His kitchen area was almost as large as my whole apartment. A wide Subzero fridge, two ovens, an eight-burner Viking range, and a gas barbecue with a huge stainless hood over it lined one side. The cabinets were a warm cherrywood with etched glass inserts, and the granite-topped island was almost as long and wide as my car had been——the car Matt got in the divorce. Three sinks, two inset butcher block cutting boards, two dishwashers, and a stack of three warming drawers——the place was equipped to cook for a few dozen, and he lived here alone.
I peered through a doorway to an elegant formal dining room with a fireplace at one end and a window looking out on the city at the other. The table was far and away the largest I'd ever seen, long enough to seat at least twenty. Oil paintings in elaborate frames graced the walls.
I exited through the sliding glass door to a rooftop patio. Venturing to the edge, I peered over looking down on the Common.
“Like the view?” Liam asked, surprising me.
I backed away from the edge. “It's nice, but heights aren't my thing.” I walked past him back into the main room.
He followed me and closed the door behind us, sealing out the slight road noise from below.
He placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the pile of clothes by the front door. “Let's get your things put away. We don't have a lot of time.”
His touch was warm, and more than a little bit distracting.
“Lead the way.” I couldn’t control the way my body reacted.
We gathered up armfuls of clothes, and I followed him into the bedroom.
This was his room, the same room we'd used Tuesday night.
“Just a minute,” I said stopping inside the door. “You don't really want me in here, do you?”
He turned to me with a quizzical look.
I stayed at the door. “I mean, we said we were going to keep this professional, right?”
He nodded his head toward the closet. “Wouldn’t we expect my girlfriend’s things to be in here?”
I followed him to the closet. “You don't expect me to——”
He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Amy, trust me. You're safe here.”
I let out a breath I didn't realize I’d been holding.
He made space in one side of the closet and started hanging the skirts he had carried. “Sunshine, for appearance’s sake, I think we have to stash your clothes here.”
“Let's talk about this for a moment,” I said. “What's the plan? I don't really understand how this is going to work.”
Liam finished hanging up the clothes and turned to me. “If you are living with me as my girlfriend, where would your clothes be?”
“I thought I'd be using the guest bedroom.”
“Yes, but to be safe,” he continued, “you should keep any bathroom articles over there hidden in a drawer, and same thing with clothes. It needs to appear that we’re sharing this bedroom and bathroom.” With that, he walked around me to get some more clothes from the hallway.
It made sense, of course, but having all my clothes in here where I had to go by him to get dressed would be awkward. I hung the blouses I was carrying beside the skirts.
When he had first proposed my being his fake girlfriend, it had sounded so easy. I hadn't contemplated these complications. This job was becoming harder by the day. But I owed it to Samantha and everybody else at Tiffany's to make the best effort I could.
“You okay, Amy?” he asked softly as he came up behind me. “I know this isn't what you signed up for, and I appreciate it. If this is too much, we can take these things back. I'll make some excuse to Schmulian.”
I shook my head. I couldn't do that and put the project in jeopardy. “No, but thank you for understanding. I'll deal with it.”
He took my hand. “I promise to respect your boundaries. I won’t compromise you in any way. You are a guest here, and I’ll treat you with the respect you deserve. I’ll keep this professional, I promise. And one thing you’ll learn about me, I always keep my promises. Always.” His eyes and his voice carried nothing but sincerity. His touch and his manner were completely disarming.
