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“Maybe.”
“Well, to be fair, before I messaged you, Willa scanned through your social media profiles and said you checked out pretty good, and I shouldn’t miss the opportunity to?—”
“To…” he pushes.
“You know, get back out there, or just get out there. Meet someone. Be social,” I say with a snicker.
“You know, researching people’s backgrounds online has become so common that it’s almost exciting when someone doesn’t have a footprint on the web,” he says with a smirk.
“I despise social media. That’s why Willa did the dirty work for me. The amount of anxiety online context causes people just seems unavoidable to me. I know myself well and if I was scrolling through feeds mindlessly everyday looking at everyone’s supposed abnormally perfect lives, it would make me question if I was on my own life path or following someone else’s. I’m not sure if that makes sense because I might be babbling. Being influenced feels a little like the butterfly effect, swaying people away from the direction they were intended to travel, which could ultimately and unknowingly change their destination.” It’s been a while since I’ve brain dumped on anyone about my philosophical ideals but hearing it out loud highlights the fact that I was meant to be pulled into this case with the Smiths.
“Wow,” Liam says, turning to face me while leaning his side against the railing. “Would you write that all down, because it’s literally the most inspirational statement I’ve heard in forever.”
I playfully shove his shoulder. “Don’t tease.”
“I’m not,” he says, his eyebrows angling toward each other. “I’m very serious. In a day when we’re all misguided and using recycled knowledge from the web to make everyday decisions, your words are beautiful.”
They’re only words, I want to tell him.
He sweeps a windblown strand of my hair away from my eyes and loops his arm around my back, pulling me in closer. “I didn’t think you would speak to me again after the first-aid class,” he says. “I thought meeting someone I had an instant connection with was too good to be true.”
“Why is that?” It’s because more often than not, something that seems beyond ideal is a mirage of the mind, designed to satisfy a person’s current need or desire. I know this well.
“I just haven’t had the best of luck when it comes to taking risks or stepping outside of my comfort zone. I usually come out on the other end with a million reasons why I should stop taking risks and stick to what I know.”
“Maybe you just weren’t taking the right risks,” I say.
“All I know is, you are one worth taking.”
My heart flutters for so many reasons in this one instance but I close my eyes and shut out the world around me to indulge in the waft of spiced coconut and warm, full lips against mine. He holds me tight like I’m something worth hanging on to and the feeling makes my stomach tighten as I loop my arms around the back of his neck, caving to the desire to eliminate all space between us.
The wind blows against us, and the water laps up against the row of docks. Seagulls sing in the distance, and I wish I could erase everything in between and outside of these lines. The sun beating down on the back of my neck adds to the heat rushing through me. Liam scoops me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, keeping my eyes closed as he walks us back into the apartment.
I focus on his touch, the effortless way he carries me without sacrificing the skilled way in which his lips devour mine. My bedroom door closes, us on the inside, the bed beneath me. This is the part I tend to overthink, debate, push away while wondering if it’s my next best or worst decision. I’m not questioning any part of us, though. Not really…
FORTY-FOUR
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 14TH 6:00 PM
Pizza in bed, a single silky sheet wrapped around us like a loose cocoon, the windows open to the seaside soundscape and breeze could be considered the best night of this summer, maybe even any summer I’ve ever had, and it’s hardly just begun.
“I knew you were my type,” he says with a pleasing sigh as he reaches for his glass of water on the nightstand.
“Your type is pizza in bed?” I ask, taking another bite of my crust.
“Uh, yes,” he says, highlighting the obvious statement.
I’ve lost track of the time after hearing it would take thirty minutes for the pizza to be delivered but the front door to the apartment whooshes open, then closes with a thud. The cross breeze causes lots of commotion with doors around here. “Willa must be home from work.”
My bedroom door flies open just as I’m finishing my sentence and my heart leaps into my throat. Willa, breathless, holding the doorknob within one grip and the threshold in the other. “They found the baby,” she says. “It’s all over the news.”
“What? Fallon?” I ask, sitting bolt upright.
“Yes. The breaking news is still developing but she’s apparently safe and alive.”
“Holy crap,” I say. Jared must be good at his job or maybe it was the psychologist, but my bets are on Jared.
“I wonder where they found her after all this time,” Liam says, staring toward the wall beyond the foot of my bed. “I was sure there wasn’t going to be a good ending to this search, especially with a child that?—”
