by Cranford, B.
Yeah, he didn’t like that at all. “You said it’s two year increments. Does that mean you can stay longer?”
Her nod was thoughtful. “I can, but I’d have to reapply.”
“And you miss home.” It was a statement, not a question, because he could tell—from the way she’d said “I can,” as if she didn’t plan to, and from the glint in her eyes. She looked almost wistful, in a way.
“I do, yeah. A lot, actually.” Her eyes darted away, as if she was embarrassed to be admitting it, but that didn’t change the fact that she was homesick.
Maybe not right then, while they were getting to know one another. And maybe not always—perhaps she had gone days or weeks over the last couple of years without thinking about home. But that was before he knew her, so it didn’t count.
Because, there was something in her—her heart, he’d wager—that missed her home country.
And something in him said that when she was gone, he would miss her.
Chapter Eleven
Rose looked over at the man across from her, a feeling of loss forming in her chest that was at once inexplicable and yet so completely natural.
He hadn’t asked anything extraordinary, nor had their date been anything out of the norm. A simple dinner date, typical small talk as two people who felt an attraction tried to decide if there was more to it.
Except . . .
There was more to it. She didn’t know what; she just knew that whatever might be starting to grow between them, it was worth exploring. But first, she had to explain herself a little better. “It’s different over here. Not in a bad way, for the most part, but it’s all the small things that compound and start to feel . . . big, I guess. Like not being able to find your brand of shampoo or needing new socks and suddenly the style you’ve been buying for a good decade isn’t available. Or, say, having news to share and not being able to do it right away, because of the time difference, that’s another thing that gets to me.”
She started to add more, then trailed off because she wasn’t sure how to describe it, being away from the place where she’d grown up and all her family and friends. Most of her family, anyway. After all, she did have Kassi and her aunty and uncle, but that wasn’t the same. Because she hadn’t grown up with them, and though she loved them very much, they weren’t always able to give her the comfort of home.
“You probably think I’m stupid. A fully-grown adult, a grown up”—she cocked her eyebrow at that, the joking reference to her earlier comment garnering a chuckle from her date—“who’s homesick.”
He didn’t reply right away and she liked that. He was thinking about what she said, and she had the sense that whatever answer he gave, it would be honest. Even if he told her to suck it up and get the hell over it.
Though, she really didn’t think he would say that.
“I don’t think you’re stupid at all. I think you’re allowed to be homesick whether you’re eight or eighty.” His face transformed when a silly smile tilted his lips. “And besides, I’m the fully-grown adult who sent the worst opening message in the history of dating texts last night, so who am I to judge?”
Pulling a face to show him just how completely cringe-worthy she thought his messages were, she laughed. “We joke, but it wasn’t that bad. I was on a dating app for a while, and if you want to see truly cringe-worthy messages, that’s where you need to look.”
“I don’t need to be on an app to see them. There are always articles floating around online that are ‘21 Worst Pick-Up Lines’ and stuff, right? I’ll just read one of them before I grab my phone next time.”
“You know, I think I might like to get a couple of truly terrible pick-up lines from you. Just to see how much worse it could have been.”
“You think I need to make it worse to make it better? That’s what it seems like you’re implying here, and I’m not really convinced that’s my best course of action.”
She shrugged. “No, it’s probably not. But bad lines and autocorrect fails never fail to make me laugh.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned over the table as if letting him in on a secret. The fact that he leaned in too—was playing along—gave her a shot of excitement.
No, not that kind of excitement, although if he kept smiling at her, it might easily become that kind of excitement.
“For some people the way to the heart is through the stomach. But for me, it’s stupid, harmless humor.”
He nodded sagely, as if taking the advice on board for future use. Still leaning in close to her, he said, “Harmless, huh? No pranks then?”
She leaned back. “No way. I hate pranks. April Fool’s Day is the worst.”
“I agree.”
“That’s a relief. I would hate to get too deep into this thing with you, only to find out you liked to pull out all the stops when it came to pranking.”
“I don’t like to pull out at all, actually.”
Rose’s laugh was so loud that Wilbur wiggled in her lap, looking back and forth between the two of them as if wanting in on the joke. Then, because she was a classy lady who’d once broken her nose, she snorted. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I snorted but–but you just said—”
“I know what I just said,” Liam interrupted, looking more than a little chagrined. “We probably don’t need to revisit it.”
She couldn’t stop laughing. “Yeah, no, we definitely do.”
“It was an autocorrect fail.”
“Uhh, that’s–that’s not how those work.”
He threw his hands in the air, as if exasperated. “Can’t you just go along with it?” he pleaded, giving her a look that made her snort again.
Shaking her head, she showed no mercy. “Nope, ’fraid not.”
“You’re evil.”
“Yes.”
“And you have a dirty mind.”
She tilted her head, then nodded. “This is also true.”
“And your laugh is really fucking cute.”
She paused, her laughter trailing off as she looked up at him, and caught him smiling over at her. Even though she could see the vestiges of embarrassment in his eyes and in the hue of his cheeks, he looked . . .
He looked at her like he really meant it.
Like she really was “fucking cute” to him.
And it only intensified that feeling of loss.
* * *
With her key poised at the lock to her front door and Wilbur looking down at the front porch where he’d been discovered, Rose looked over her shoulder at Liam. “You didn’t have to drive me home, and you really didn’t have to walk me to the door.”
But I’m glad you did. She didn’t say that out loud—not because she didn’t want to, but because before she could, the front door flew open.
“Hi, I’m Kassi.” Her cousin stepped around her, holding a hand out to Liam. “You must be Rose’s vet.”
Liam shook her hand, tipping his head slightly. In acknowledgment of the fact that he’s a vet, or that he’s my vet? “Nice to meet you, Kassi. I’m Liam.”
“He’s hot, cuz.” Kassi dropped Liam’s hand and turned back to Rose, grinning widely in a way that spelled trouble, before mouthing, “Do him.”
Right in front of Liam, who appeared to be laughing behind his hand.
“Kas,” Rose warned, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to make eye contact with either Liam or Kassi.
“It’s true!” Kassi turned to Liam. “You’re hot.”
Rose dared to open her eyes, just in time to see Liam turn her way. She felt her face color under his gaze when he said, “Do you agree with that assessment, Babe?”
Kassi nudged Rose’s shoulder. “Babe. That’s cute.”
“It’s not cute once you realize why he’s calling me that,” Rose muttered, embarrassment at how she’d come by the nickname warring with amusement over it.
Liam tapped his head. “Babe Ruth. For her excellent baseball skills.”
“It was my bat, you know.” Kassi was practically hum
ming from pride with that statement, as if she was personally responsible for bringing the two of them together. Rose rolled her eyes even as a rush of affection for her slightly left-of-center cousin swept in. “So, you’re welcome.”
Liam chuckled. “She mentioned that, actually. Thank you.” Turning toward Rose, he reached a hand out to pet Wilbur, who was watching the scene with the same bemusement that Rose herself was feeling. “And you, too, Wilby.” The dog squirmed in her arms, his tail going crazy as he yipped happily.
He seemed to like his newly gained nickname.
Liam stepped back a little, letting his hand drop from Wilbur’s head. “So, I’ll, ah, see you again soon?”
“Aaaaaaaand that’s my cue to go.” Kassi held out her hands for Wilbur. “Come here, little guy. Want to come snuggle with me on the couch? I have popcorn.” The last part was said in a stage whisper as she disappeared back into the house.
“She really shouldn’t give him popcorn.” Liam shifted, looking uncomfortable. “It’s not that good for him, unless it’s unsalted and unbuttered . . .”
He trailed off, bringing a hand to the back of his neck in an adorably awkward gesture.
Rose rushed to reassure him. “She knows. She was just messing with us.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Aside from the fact that I don’t eat buttered popcorn because I’m vegan, she doesn’t like it at all. So, there’s actually no popcorn in this house.” She shrugged. “She thinks she’s funny.”
Liam nodded, clearly thinking that over and accepting it before he said, “I had fun tonight.”
“Me too. A lot of fun.” She felt shy saying it, but refused to let him be the only one putting himself out there. “I’d like to do it again.”
He nodded. “Maybe next time we can end the date with you meeting my sister, Sasha. I have the feeling she and Kassi might get along great.”
“Oh, in addition to preaching honesty, does she also butt in where she’s not wanted?”
Liam tilted his head in a nod that was more “unfortunately yes” than straight agreement.
“Excellent. She and I should get on just fine then.” She rolled her eyes and laughed, thinking about the way Kassi had just invited herself into Rose’s goodnight with Liam.
Silence descended. Liam wasn’t moving to leave and Rose couldn’t bring herself to say goodnight and go into the house. It was only when it threatened to get uncomfortable that Rose finally took a step toward Liam. Figuratively and literally. “Thank you for dinner. And for finding a place that I could bring Wilbur. Wilby,” she added, emphasizing her dog’s new moniker.
Stepping closer in a mirror of Rose’s movement, Liam replied, “You’re welcome, Rosie.” He paused, a smile that she could only describe as cheeky forming. “Don’t think I’m going to forget that you didn’t tell me if you agreed with Kassi though.”
And then, after a brush of his lips against her cheek, he turned and walked back to his car. Rose slowly melted into a puddle of swoon on her front porch, whispering, “I definitely agree.”
Chapter Twelve
Liam: So, hey, remember that time when I awkwardly said I don’t like to pull out?
Rose: You mean yesterday? On our first date?
Liam: That’s a yes, then? You do remember?
Rose: I do.
Liam: I can’t stop thinking about it.
Rose: . . .
Rose: About pulling out? Really?
Liam: ANYWAY—you know that thing that everyone has, where they think about it five years after it happened and then feel embarrassed as hell about it?
Rose: Yes. There was this one time, I was at an animal rights march . . .
Liam: Oh, I know this story. It had a happy ending, right?
Rose: That’s what you want to talk about?
Rose: Happy endings?
Liam: I can’t decide if my foot is permanently lodged in my mouth or your mind is forever in the gutter.
Rose: Think it might be both, tbh.
Liam: So it would seem. My point is: even though things seemed to be fine after, I just wanted to say sorry.
Rose considered what to say in response to Liam’s last message. She could send a GIF—it was one of her favorite forms of communication—but . . . no. That wasn’t quite right. She felt a need to put him at ease; they were both trying to navigate the early stages of this relationship—or whatever it was.
And she really didn’t mind a little dirty humor. Unintentional though it might be.
Tapping her fingers on her forehead, she looked up when Wilbur give a little sniff-snore in his sleep. He was curled on top of the covers beside her, a long day of playing around the house and exploring the back yard and learning to be on a leash for a small walk to the nearby park having tuckered him right out.
“What do ya reckon, Wilby?” She considered him, a ball of white and brown fluff that was completely oblivious to her dilemma. “I don’t know why I think you can give me the answers. You’re the reason I’m in this mess.”
He made a little whimper sound in response and Rose frowned. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry. You’re not the reason and you’re the goodest boy ever.”
His little body flexed, like he was dreaming about compliments and probably treats, and Rose went back to considering her response. Shaking her head at her ridiculous levels of uncertainty, she decided to bite the bullet and call him instead of trying to compose the perfect text message.
“Hello?” Liam’s deep voice as he answered had an immediate calming effect on her.
Well, at least until she realized she had to reply. And soon, lest he think she’d butt-dialed him or something.
Why did I think calling was the right answer?
With only the mildest shake in her voice, she forwent a greeting and dove straight into the reason she was calling. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I don’t?” A door closed on his end of the phone, and she wondered what he was doing. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to, though.”
“You definitely don’t. It was funny. And besides, I’m the one that made it dirty. So, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s probably me.”
“Rosie, I think you’ve apologized to me enough to last a lifetime. Or at least until next week,” he added dryly.
She snickered, amusement lancing through her at the way he’d said it—and at the fact he was right. She had apologized to him an awful lot since they’d met. “So, what did you do today?” she asked, changing the subject in the hopes of getting past the uncomfortableness and the apologies.
“Went into the clinic for a few hours. Came home, watched football. Called my mom, got a lecture about not calling enough.”
“Oh, I get those lectures, too.”
“Yeah? How often do you talk to your folks?”
“Every few days. It’s easier sometimes to not talk to them as much, because then . . .” She trailed off, feeling a little sheepish about her reasoning.
Except Liam evidently knew what she was saying, and finished her thought. “Then you don’t miss them as much?”
She hummed in agreement. “It probably makes me a terrible human being, but it’s an out of sight, out of mind thing. I guess.”
“I get it.” He said it so simply that she couldn’t help but believe him.
Shifting a little higher on her bed to rest against the headboard, she asked, “Is that why you don’t talk to your mum as much as you should? Because you miss her?”
“No, it’s because I’m a terrible son and I prefer to let Sasha do the talking.”
His deadpan reply startled a laugh out of her that had Wilbur raising a sleepy head. “Shh, sorry, baby.”
“Did you just call me baby?” Liam asked, the playfulness she could now hear in his voice telling her that he knew she hadn’t.
But that just gave her an opportunity to play with him a little. Lowering her voice to her best approximation of sultry sex kitten, she replied, “Yes, baby, I did.”
&nb
sp; He made a weird kind of meowing noise, and Rose stuttered out another laugh—one that built to a near-hysterical crescendo until Liam was laughing along with her and Wilbur was bouncing up the bed to attack her with licks and kisses and a clear need to be part of the fun.
“Dear God, don’t ever make that sound again,” she pleaded, panting past her laughter. “I can’t take it.”
“I make no promises.” His low chuckle as the last vestiges of laughter ebbed away made her want to sigh even as her mind provided a picture of him making that noise in a more intimate setting.
Silence fell over the conversation, and though it wasn’t uncomfortable, she began to cycle through potential topics in her mind. She was weighing the idea of asking about any exes he might have when he saved her from making that terrible mistake by asking his own question.
“Do you think you’ll ever come back?”
* * *
Liam wasn’t entirely sure what made him ask her about her plans for the future, except for the fact he’d been thinking about it since she’d mentioned she’d be leaving in mid-December.
It wasn’t that he needed to know, or even had a right to know.
He just wanted to. They hadn’t talked about it when they’d talked about her homesickness, which meant, he suddenly realized, that he didn’t know what it was she was wanting from him. From them.
“To America, you mean?” she asked, wariness in her voice.
Shit. Had he put her on edge? “Yeah. Well, here specifically.” Even though she couldn’t see him, he swept his hand out to illustrate. “Since you have family in the area,” he added.
“I . . . don’t know.” Her voice was quiet, so quiet he could hear rustling in the background. It made him wonder what she was doing. It was nearly bedtime. “Maybe one day? I hadn’t really thought about it, you know, before.”
Before him? Before their date? Before Wilbur?