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Olivia and I both see where he’s headed and move to intercept him. We reach him at the same time, and I let her pick him up.
“You’re too speedy for your own good,” she says, giving him a kiss.
I grab the wires and pull up the slack, then twist them into a knot so they’re farther above the floor.
She stands. “I’m going to lay him down for a nap. Where did you put his crib?”
“In the guest room that’s closest to the master bedroom. Remember how to get there?”
“I think so.” She moves past, giving me a whiff of her floral body lotion.
My muscles tighten, and it hits me again that I’m glad to have her back in my house.
Because I could use a distraction, I make lunch. While the vegetables roast, I pan-fry a pair of steaks in butter and sea salt. I text Olivia that lunch is on the table, and she arrives in the kitchen a few minutes later.
"Is he asleep?”
She nods, sitting and setting a napkin in her lap. "This looks fantastic. I didn't know you cook.”
“Yeah. I’ve gotta eat and don’t always feel like going out.”
She cuts a piece of meat and chews it. “Delicious.”
I pause to watch her. It’s been almost two years, but I still remember how soft her lips are, how sweet she tastes. That's a hunger that's never sated.
Liv clears her throat. “I’m sorry I didn't even consider that Francesca could be lying, Liam. It's just that—it was a lot more likely for her to be telling the truth. A woman claiming to still be engaged when she's not? Out of spite or to cause trouble? I don't believe that happens all that often. But a man pretending he’s single to have sex with a younger woman? Commonplace, right?”
I can't argue with that.
She glances over. "Why do you think she did it?”
"Lying was like breathing for her." I take a swig of water. "Also, she was determined to marry me. She lied to drive you out of my life. And it worked.”
Her fork pauses halfway to her mouth. “She had good props. Keys to the front door. An engagement ring and a picture of you guys together, ready for her to pull out like you’d put it away so I wouldn't know about her.”
“I don't know when she stashed it in a kitchen drawer or why. Maybe she wanted me to find it, hoping it would remind me of better days.”
“What else did she lie about?"
"Everything." I rise and grab a Guinness from the fridge. This is not the kind of conversation that goes down well without alcohol. Or even with it.
She frowns. “I’m sorry.”
"No need for you to feel anything about it. Once I broke things off, it was a relief. A bullet dodged. Well, almost." That brings a smirk to my mouth before I take a drink.
“There were a lot of times when I wanted to call.”
“You should have. You’d have been in a lot less trouble if you had.”
Her brows crinkle. “Trouble?”
“Indeed. I’m sure you remember what that means.” Time to start setting the tone for how things are going to be.
Her cheeks turn pink as she looks away. “The news said you'd been to jail before? At eighteen?”
I finish off the beer and get another. “Ancient history.”
“I'd still like to know what happened.”
