by Cranford, B.
He just hoped it didn’t run out before they found a solution.
* * *
With Wilbur in her arms, Rose stood on the doorstep to Liam’s house, gnawing on her bottom lip. After lunch at his office earlier, they’d made plans for her and Wilbur to spend the night, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the question he hadn’t asked—but had clearly wanted to.
What happens when you leave?
She’d told him she wasn’t ready and that was the truth. There was still too much she didn’t know about him and about what they were to one another. And even though her gut told her what they had was something special, her heart ached for home and her brain knew it was too soon.
None of that made it any easier though. Especially since she’d heard something in his voice when he’d broached the subject with her earlier that had said he was getting . . .
Frustrated? Impatient? Annoyed?
All of the above?
Sighing, because the alternative was standing outside his house all night, she knocked on the door. “Are you excited, Wilby-man?” she unnecessarily asked the obviously excited animal. His tail was trying its hardest to wag, despite being trapped between his body and hers, and his tongue was lolling out of a mouth that looked very much like it was grinning. Widely grinning.
The door opened and Wilbur made a dive for the ground, or maybe for Liam, and Rose wobbled under the shifting balance. “Bloody hell!”
“Come here, you fool,” Liam said, reaching for the half-dangling dog and relieving Rose of his weight so she could set herself to rights. “I wondered when you’d get here.”
She smiled, trying to file the worry and the ache away so she could just enjoy her time with him. “Sorry, Kassi said she’d bring me, then got into an argument with her boss at the coffee place about something stupid.”
He reached for her overnight bag and she held it out to him, watching his face for signs that he was still thinking about earlier. Signs that he was unhappy with her and her lack of decision-making. “Hi. And thank you.”
“Hi and you’re welcome,” he replied, slinging the bag over his shoulder, Wilbur settled in his other arm, and leaning down to give her a kiss. She rose into it, taking it deeper, still trying to push the lingering doubt aside.
“Rose?”
“Huh?” She blinked, realizing she’d zoned out. “What’d you say?”
“What was the something stupid they argued about? And this is the place that has dirt coffee?”
She laughed, because she’d explained Kassi’s second job to him during one of their many conversations, but either he’d misunderstood or he was just being funny. “It’s not actually dirt coffee. But it definitely tastes that way. Ick.” She made a face, remembering the first time she’d had an almond-milk latte at Higher Ground. “But yes, that’s the place. And they argued about her shoes.”
“Her shoes? Come in, by the way. We can give Wilbur the grand tour.”
“By ‘grand tour,’ do you mean show him where the food is? Because I’m pretty sure that’s all he cares about.”
“I don’t blame him, really.” He stepped back to let her in, before closing the door behind her. “And besides, if food keeps him away from my favorite pillow, then all the better.”
“You and your bloody pillow.”
“You’ve stroked the pillow, Rosie. Don’t act like you don’t know.”
She giggled, remembering not just touching the pillow, but what had come after. God, but it had been perfect. And just remembering it only intensified that ever present feeling of loss—the one she now identified with the thought of leaving him.
Stupid. Getting pre-heartbreak over a man she didn’t know was exactly that: stupid. Needing the distraction, she explained, “Kassi wore a pair of heels to work today and apparently Eli didn’t like it. I personally think maybe he liked it too much, and that’s why he—I’m quoting Kas here—‘flipped the fuck out’ about them.”
“Is he allowed to do that?”
“I think yes, because it’s a food service place, but I don’t honestly know.” She shrugged, following him into the kitchen, where he’d set up a little spot in the corner with new food and water bowls for Wilbur. “You didn’t have to do that.” She pointed at the two red bowls set on a folded white towel. “I could’ve bought him stuff.”
It was Liam’s turn to shrug. “It’s not like I didn’t have it right there at work. It’s not a big deal. Now he has stuff for when you two come visit me.” He placed her bag on the floor beside the counter and pulled her into a hug. “It was selfish, if you think about it. Because I like having you here, and you’re a package deal, I think?”
She nodded definitively, even as she felt her body melt into his. Going up on her tip-toes, she gave him a kiss—not too soft and not too quick. Enough to say thank you for thinking ahead, for including her little guy, for making sure they were both comfortable in his home. And then, for good measure, she added another, “Thank you.”
He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “You can thank me later, Babe.”
“Oh, I will.”
“Yes!” He freed one arm to do an exaggerated fist pump, and Rose couldn’t help but shake her head at him. He was so . . .
Sigh.
American. Which wasn’t a bad thing, by any stretch of the imagination. Except for one small thing—
He lived in America. And soon enough, she wouldn’t.
* * *
“Good morning.” Liam sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at both Rose and Wilbur, who were still lying in his bed. Rose had spent the night there, while Wilbur had been in the corner, in a bed that Liam had set up for him at the same time he’d set up the food and water bowls.
It hadn’t been a big thing, not to him. He loved animals and always had. But Rose had kissed him and softened against him and looked at him with eyes that said she was grateful to him for taking care of Wilbur.
And then, later that night, she’d shown him just how grateful.
Now she was waking up in his bed and blinking sleepily at him. “Time is it?”
“It’s only seven-thirty, but I wanted to let you know I have to go into work.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Sasha left her purse there overnight, including her key to the clinic, and asked me to meet her so she could get it.” Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I just didn’t want you to wake up and wonder where I was. You can go back to sleep and I’ll be back soon, okay?”
She nodded drowsily, and if she wasn’t asleep by the time he was in his car and heading for the clinic, he’d have been shocked. He thought about her the entire drive—which was only about ten minutes, admittedly—and about how much he’d enjoyed not just having her and Wilbur overnight, but waking up with them too.
Okay, maybe not with Wilbur, who’d sat on his side of the bed and insisted in that puppyish way of his that he was starving. And then, after he’d devoured his breakfast, trotted back to the bedroom and insisted again that he needed to be on the bed and next to his person.
Liam didn’t blame him. Not really.
Sasha was already waiting out front when he pulled up. “Scale of one to ten, how mad are you?”
He shrugged, trying to decide if he’d make her pay for dragging him away from Rose—warm, sleepy, snuggly Rose. Ultimately, he decided against it, considering that Sasha had been through enough lately, and that letting this lapse slide was probably okay.
But he did need to know: “How did you get home without your keys?”
“Tanzi took me home last night. My car’s in the shop, remember?”
Uh, no. He didn’t remember that, actually, but instead of admitting that, he just nodded and went to open the door. “And this morning? I could’ve picked you up.”
“Lyft. They charge you through the app, so I was fine. I heard you and your girlfriend making plans for last night, so I didn’t want to interrupt any more than was necessary.”
“Why’d you
say it like that?”
“Because you’re totally in love with her?” She gave him the same look she’d been giving him almost since she was born—one that said she thought he was an idiot.
Was he in love with Rose? He was definitely in lust with her. And he liked her a whole lot more than maybe he should for only having known her a short time. But love?
“What’s the look?” Sasha asked, turning so she could walk backward into the clinic after he opened the door for her. “Is something wrong?”
He weighed his options. He’d been thinking about his aborted conversation with Rose from the day before, about the fact she wasn’t yet ready to talk about leaving, a lot since and he could use some advice. Or he could just keep his trap shut.
He opted for door number one: advice. “Sash? Remember how I asked you how long before I could text her about our first date?”
She nodded.
“What about how long I should wait before I press her to make a decision about us?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet, not wanting to hear her answer and desperate for it at the same time.
“What kind of decision?”
“The kind of decision that involves labels like ‘girlfriend’”—he made a point to say it just like she had—“and what the hell we’re going to do when she leaves for Australia.”
“You haven’t talked about it yet?”
Thrusting his hands into his hair, he groaned. “I tried to talk to her about it a little yesterday, but she said she wasn’t ready. And I just . . .”
Sasha widened her eyes at him. “You just what?”
“It bugs the shit out of me, okay? Not knowing. Not even knowing when I’m going to know.”
“Liam.”
“Look, I know it probably makes me an asshole or whatever, but I need to know.” He thought about his carefully constructed plan of building Pupp’s up and then worrying about his personal life. And how meeting Rose had blown it to smithereens. “I need to know. Fuck.”
Sasha sighed. “I get it, bro. I do. But—and don’t get pissed at me for saying this—I don’t think you should ever press her for a decision.”
His head flew up to stare at his sister, confused about why she’d give him the worst advice ever. But before he could ask her that, she stopped him by adding, “You can ask her, and honestly, I’d give it a little more time. Like, until you’ve known each other a bit longer. But you know that you can never make her make a decision. That’s just a surefire way of guaranteeing that she decides against you.”
Slowly nodding, because, yeah, that kind of made sense, he thought about her words. The last part, anyway. He definitely did not want Rose to decide against him.
Against them.
So, he’d wait.
Even if it was hard. And made him want to rage.
Chapter Sixteen
“I’m back and wondering if you’re ready.”
Rose rolled over in Liam’s bed at the sound of him calling through the house, only to be assaulted by a wet tongue. “Wilbur, seriously? I don’t need a tongue bath this early in the morning.”
“You don’t? I’ll keep that in mind.” Liam lounged against the doorframe, a look on his face that Rose could only describe as a leer.
Yet, somehow, it was the sexiest damn leer she’d ever seen.
“From Wilbur,” she clarified, playing along. “I thought you’d be gone longer. I, ahh”—she looked down at her still-mostly-undressed self sheepishly—“am not ready.”
“I can see that. And as much as I’d like to tell you to stay that way, you and I have a date for the amusement park today.”
She bounced her shoulders in excitement. “I. Can’t. Wait.”
“Then go get ready, Rosie. We have some rides to ride and some haunted houses to explore.”
She moved through a truncated morning routine, laughing when Liam snuck into the bedroom while she was showering, and was ready in record time. “Let’s go, let’s go,” she called, impatient because she was ready and he wasn’t.
The fact that he wasn’t ready because he was setting Wilbur up with a special spot in his laundry—just like she and Kassi did for him at their place—was the only thing that made her grit through the wait.
When they finally climbed into the car, Liam leaned over to kiss her. His lips were insistent, his hand cupped at the back of her neck to hold her there while he slowly, thoroughly tasted her. Her impatience ebbed away as she sank into his kiss, enjoying how his mouth molded to hers, how his tongue caressed hers. She lost track of time, her earlier excitement about their planned adventure transforming into excitement about him, for him.
For them.
And for the future that was still unsettled.
They had to be something, didn’t they? She didn’t, couldn’t, believe that it could feel so good and so right after such a short span of time unless they were meant to be together.
Somehow. Someway.
Surely she’d found him for a reason?
Forcing the thoughts back, determined to give them more time and, she hoped, more certainty before they made any decisions, she took the kiss deeper still, twisting herself in the passenger seat of Liam’s car until she was nearly on top of him.
“Babe.” He pulled back from the kiss, groaning like it pained him. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll never get there in time to enjoy everything.”
Even though she’d been looking forward to seeing the park, riding on some coasters with Liam, she still hesitated. Would it really be that bad if they didn’t go? If they stayed home instead?
“I can see what you’re thinking, and the answer is no. Or maybe yes.” He paused, dragging the hand he’d had cupped at the nape of her neck around to settle at the base of her throat. “I can’t tell exactly which it is, so I’ll say it like this: we’ve both been looking forward to this. So let’s go.”
She pulled a face, just because she could—definitely not because she didn’t like his decision-making—and moved away from his touch and back into her seat. “Fine.”
“Oh, this is a new side to you. Petulant Rose.” At his words, she pushed out her bottom lip in a pout, smiling at him when his face creased into a wide grin. “Oh, Babe. That’s cute.”
“Whatever. First you make me wait, then you kiss me with promise, and now you’re making me wait again. I can’t keep up.”
Eyes narrowed, he said, “I’m not making you wait—I’m the one who said let’s go.”
“Oh, I know you’re not making me wait for the amusement park anymore”—she paused for maximum impact—“but you are making me wait to take a ride.”
* * *
Laughing at her flirty words, Liam put the car into reverse, and pulled out of the driveway.
Pulled out. How far they’d come since he’d made that inadvertent innuendo on their first date. It might have only been a couple of weeks, but he knew in his gut that time didn’t matter.
Rose was special and important, and the thought reiterated what Sasha had said to him earlier that morning. He couldn’t pressure her into making a decision, no matter how tempting it was.
But he could adore her while he waited.
And he could take her to see some scary shit in the meantime.
Chuckling at the thought of what the day held, he flicked on the radio and they made the drive in both record time—he was amazed by the lack of traffic on the road for a Sunday morning—and in a comfortable silence.
A comfortable silence where he held her hand at all possible times and occasionally serenaded her with terrible singing of the cheesiest songs he could find on the radio. By the time they’d arrived at the park and used their pre-bought tickets to gain entry, Rose was back to showing all signs of excitement at being there.
And Liam was convinced that if she could get through an entire car ride with him singing, together they could get through anything.
* * *
“You’re brave.” Liam grabbed her hand as they walked out of
the third haunted house they’d visited that evening.
They’d spent the earlier part of their adventure, when the sun was still out, giving a little warmth to the cool-ish October air, walking from ride to ride and playing the skill games. She had a giant Panda tucked under her arms as evidence that Liam was way better at throwing a football than he was at singing.
“That one was the scariest yet, I think,” he added, bringing her thoughts back to the house they’d just exited.
“If you’d qualified that ‘you’re brave’ with ‘for a girl,’ this thing”—Rose pointed back and forth between her and Liam—“would have ended tonight.”
“I was never going to say ‘for a girl,’ Babe.” He lifted a hand gently to her cheek, leaning in to brush a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re just straight up brave. Seeing you face down the blood-splattered, chainsaw-wielding zombie was a revelation.”
Smiling against his lips and taking a longer, deeper kiss from him, just because she wanted to and she could, Rose confessed, “I’m not brave about everything.”
“No one is, Rosie.”
Thinking it over, thinking about all the ways she hadn’t been brave, she confessed one of her fears. “I think . . . I mean, I left home because of what happened at work. I basically ran scared, didn’t I?” She looked up at him, fearing seeing judgment in his eyes, but she should’ve known better.
She should’ve known him.
“You found a way to get past what happened and you did it on your own terms. That’s bravery, even if you don’t think so.”
“Do you ever get scared?”
“Sure, all the time. You saw the clown in a straight-jacket that just passed us, right?” He made a terrified face, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip in an excellent, if over the top, approximation of fear.
She laughed, enjoying the brevity of the moment, but needing an answer nonetheless. “Seriously, though?”
His face turned solemn. “Yes, Babe. I get scared. When Sasha called me to tell me about Tucker, I wasn’t exactly scared for her, but it was definitely something like that. I covered it with death threats towards that asshole.”