by Cranford, B.
She was home.
God, how she’d missed home.
And now I miss Liam and Wilbur.
Saying goodbye to them both at the airport had been difficult at best. She’d completely fallen apart when she’d found out that she wouldn’t meet any of the deadlines for exporting Wilbur back to Australia, something that Liam had held her through, because he was just that kind of guy.
The kind that understood loving an animal—and the one who understood her.
“Can y–y–you come over?” Rose barely managed to stutter out the question when another wave of tears hit her. “Please? I need you.”
“I’m on my way, Rosie. Tell me what’s going on while I get my stuff, okay?”
“It’s Wilby. And I can’t . . . I can’t . . . he’s not going to be—” She broke off on a sob, her little friend snuggled in a tight ball in her lap, clearly aware that something not so good was happening.
“He can’t come home with you,” Liam finished for her, his voice low with empathy.
She shook her head and even though he couldn’t see her, she got the impression he knew she’d done it.
“Okay, Babe, I have my keys, but I’m in my pajamas, so have the door unlocked for me. No need for me to freeze or the neighbors to know I have Incredibles pajama pants.”
Snuffling out a wet laugh, she agreed. “’Kay. I’m sorry. Thank you.” She barely managed to add a tearful goodbye before hanging up and heading to the side door to unlock it. The evening was cold, and she didn’t want Liam waiting out in it any longer than necessary. She knew he’d had a long day at work—it was the reason he wasn’t already at her place and she wasn’t waiting for him at his. Tanzi had called her when an emergency had cropped up at work—a dog hit by a car—to let her know he’d be in surgery for quite a while and that he’d have to skip their planned dinner.
And she’d been fine about it. Her heart had ached for the dog in pain and for his humans, who were no doubt worried about him, but she’d known the animal was in the best hands and had decided to use the time wisely.
To do something she’d put off, because she’d had a gut instinct that she wasn’t going to like the answer.
Research quarantine laws for animals entering Australia. After all, she didn’t want to end up like the actor and his wife who’d been threatened with the termination of their dogs for flouting the laws. Except the research had led her to the state she was in currently.
Calling her exhausted boyfriend because she’d finally confirmed what she’d known in her heart all along: she couldn’t bring Wilbur home with her.
At least, not right away.
It had been one of the hardest nights Rose could remember having, but for the fact that Liam was there with her. He’d come barreling into her kitchen in pajama pants, an old T-shirt and an unzipped hoodie and gathered both her and Wilbur into his arms. Then he’d sat with her as she’d tried—unsuccessfully—to explain before taking over her laptop and getting the information for himself.
He hadn’t been surprised, not really. She’d gathered that he’d known enough about exporting pets from all his years working with them to know it would be a struggle to bring Wilbur with her on the first trip home. And then, he’d made a plan for her, for them.
“He’ll stay with me, okay? Until we decide what we’re doing, he’ll live with me because if anyone knows what it’s going to be like to miss you, it’s me and him, right? We’ll need each other.” He kissed her forehead, then her nose, something she loved and that she’d noticed he did whenever she was in need of comfort. “And then, whether you come back or I move there, we’ll make the plans with plenty of time for Wilbur to join us, okay?”
It had been so easy for him to make that decision for them. Of course, it was the logical one, and she was sure she’d have reached the same, given time and the chance to flush the rest of her overwrought emotions out of her system. But he’d been so steady, so calm.
Ready with a plan, as always.
Exactly the same as he’d been at the airport as they’d said goodbye. With Wilbur cuddled in one arm, he’d kissed her and kissed her and kissed her some more, all the while promising he’d be in constant contact.
So much contact that she’d be sick of him, he’d said, as if it were possible for her to get sick of him. Heartbreaking, almost, except for the fact she’d come to a surprisingly easy decision the moment the seat belt sign had clicked off on her flight home.
One that she should have made from the start—except she’d been blinded by her fears, her past, and her homesickness.
* * *
Rose: You didn’t.
Liam chuckled, rolling over with the phone gripped tightly in his hand. It was the middle of the night, and he probably should have turned his phone to silent when he went to bed, but he didn’t want to miss Rose should she decide to text him.
She’d only been gone for two weeks, and yet he missed her so much it hurt. Which is why, with only a few days to go until Christmas, he’d arranged for an early present to be delivered to her.
Liam: I didn’t?
Liam: What didn’t I?
Rose: Why are you awake?
Liam: Because my girlfriend sent me a text at 3am that said ‘you didn’t’ and then didn’t explain?
Rose: Oh, sorry! I figured you’d get it when you woke up. But I just got home and there was a package . . .
Rose: Do you know where this is going?
Liam: Stripper-gram?
Rose: No. Sadly.
Rose: I got a baseball bat. And some textas.
Liam: Well, it wasn’t from me because I have no idea what textas are. Is?
Rose: Markers. And poster board. Basically, I got all the things I need to make a protest sign . . .
Liam: Sounds like the present is a hit.
Rose: Was that a pun?
Liam: It was something alright.
She was something, that was for sure. Something so important to him it was getting hard not to demand she come back to the States right away.
Or book a direct flight to Melbourne. Even with only a few days until the holiday, he could still be there in plenty of time to watch her open her presents on Christmas morning.
And talk about her job prospects. Which reminded him . . .
Liam: How’d the interview go?
Rose: You really should go back to sleep. You know we can talk about this tomorrow, right?
Liam: That good, huh?
Rose: It was fine.
She added a GIF—of a somewhat exasperated Hillary Clinton shrugging, GIFs being her go-to distraction tactic. If he didn’t put a stop to it, in less than five minutes he’d have twenty-five increasingly odd images and a series of questions about how they came to be. It was what she did when she didn’t want to talk about something, so he did what needed to be done to keep the conversation on track.
He called her.
“Hello?”
“Why do you sound so wary? We were literally just texting.” He laughed at her scoff, then gave himself a moment to just enjoy the sound of her voice. She’d only been gone for a couple of weeks, but fuck, it felt like forever.
“I thought maybe I’d convinced you to go back to sleep.”
“Not a chance, when I could be talking to you instead.”
Her soft sigh made him feel like a . . . he didn’t know what. Something manly, definitely. And, because he couldn’t wait any longer to tell her, he added, “I love you, Rosie,” which earned him another sigh.
“I love you, too.”
“Now, the interview?”
“Like I said, it was fine.” She sighed again, only it wasn’t light and loving like the last one had been. It was weighted—by the stress she was no doubt feeling or by something else, he didn’t know.
But he intended to find out. Starting right away. “Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?”
“Um, because you’re paranoid?”
“No, that’s not it.
”
“Delusional?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
She hummed, as if in thought. “Hm, then I don’t know. It’s a mystery.”
He laughed at the faux-innocent way she spoke, shaking his head at the same time. “Sure it is.”
“How’s my boy?” she asked, no doubt wanting to steer him away from whatever she wasn’t saying, which he allowed because he was confident she’d tell him when she was ready.
“I’m fine. Sleepy, I guess, and missing you. But you knew that.”
“Har har, funny man. How’s my other boy?”
“I know you’re rolling your eyes at me.” He waited for her humph, which was as close to a confession as he could expect, then put her out of her misery. “He is cuddled up beside me, snoring. Not even me talking could rouse him at this point.”
“Send me a pic,” she demanded, a little hitch in the request that said she was suffering from the same homesickness she’d suffered when she was in America and wishing for home. Only this time, it was for the puppy she’d found on her porch.
And, Liam hoped, a little bit for him too.
Pulling the phone away from his ear, he flicked his bedside light on and snapped a picture of Wilbur all cuddled up in a ball, one of his long, wavy ears flopping over his snout as if protecting his eyes from the brightness. Sending it, he said, “On its way. He’s been coming into work with me the last few days.”
“Awww, look at him. He’s so snuggly.” Her voice hitched again, no doubt on the verge of tears.
Deciding to forge on with his story in the hopes it would clear her up, he said, “He’s made a new friend. One of the cats being boarded for the holidays. Pepper.”
A little sniffle, then an interested, “Really?”
“Yeah, she’s only about a year old and apparently had a cocker spaniel friend for her first few months, so she was very interested to meet Wilby. He, of course, charmed her right away. Tanzi’s been messaging with the owner, who said Pepper is mean to pretty much everyone, but—pardon the pun—she’s a total kitten with Wilbur.”
“That makes me so happy.”
“Not to second guess you, or try to tell you how you’re feeling, but you don’t sound ‘so happy,’ to be honest.”
“Sorry.” She sniffled again. “I’m a little emotional.”
He gasped, as if that was news to him. Although it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.
She laughed, sounding much happier. Mission accomplished. “Okay, I get it. You’re hilarious today.”
“I’m just a little giddy from lack of sleep. See there’s this girl, and . . .” He trailed off, enjoying being able to tease her and wondering, not for the first time, how long it would be until he saw her again. He’d tried to make plans, but she’d put him off.
Twice.
He was sure she had her reasons, but that didn’t lessen the pain of not knowing—nor the feeling that bordered on rejection. That she wasn’t jumping to plan something, if only a short trip to see one another, hurt. Only the fact that he heard her like this—upset and missing them—soothed the concern that had cropped up like a weed.
She made a little cough sound, her voice holding a note of emotion that made him sit up. “Rosie?”
A long draw of breath. “I found something out today. About Mister Bradley.”
His hand flexed at his side at the name, the reminder of the man who’d so bruised his woman. “Yeah. Did he lose his dick in a terrible gold-smelting incident?”
“Is that a reference to Austin Powers?” She sounded a cross between amused and bemused.
He laughed. “Maybe it was. Hm, was he diagnosed with the gout?”
“The gout?” A hint of a giggle. “No, but why is that expression so satisfyingly old-fashioned?”
“No idea. Okay, not the gout. Fired for screwing around with the CEO’s gentle niece?” His amusement died at that suggestion. Because the man was a predator. And that was no joke.
Rose, it seemed, agreed. The lightness of the moment dimmed. “No. No, thank goodness, he didn’t. But he did lose his job, apparently. Emily, who I worked with at the bank, she told me when I saw her today.”
“What happened?” Did he hurt someone else?
“He was stealing, I think. Em didn’t know all the details, just that he got caught and is probably going to be charged.” She paused, her next words hesitant. “A part of me is really glad, you know? That he’s gone and can’t use his position of power to maybe do to someone else what he did to me. But, like, worse.”
In her confession, he heard her concern that another woman—the CEO’s gentle niece, perhaps—might not have had the ability to say no as she had. And that, even though she’d come through the experience far from unscathed, she cared more for another’s potential hurt than her own. “And the rest of you?”
“Relieved that it doesn’t bother me like it did before. That I can be here and not feel like I need to escape. That I can long to be away from this home, because I have another home—with you.”
Rubbing his chest, at the spot over his heart that belonged to her, he whispered, “Rosie.”
“I should let you go, shouldn’t I?”
His heart leapt into his throat, pulse pounding for the stupid half-second that he thought this was it, that this was the end. Until common sense kicked back in.
She was going to let him go back to sleep, not go for good.
Get a grip, man. Jesus.
“I don’t want you to ever let me go,” he said regardless, just wanting to make that point known.
Her reply was exactly what he wanted to hear, said in a heartbreakingly small whisper that told him exactly how much the distance was killing her, too. “Me either.”
* * *
Rose: Merry Christmas!
Liam: I think you mean Merry Christmas EVE.
Rose: Oh, you got jokes for Christmas, huh?
Liam: Looks like it. Even though it’s not what I wanted.
Rose: What did you want?
Liam: What do you think?
Rose: I *hope* the answer is ME.
Liam: Yep.
Liam stared at the bubbles bouncing on the screen in front of him, wondering what she’d say next. Another knock, knock joke would be nice, followed by the surprise of her at his front door.
Hell, he’d even laugh if she made another stalker joke, as long as it meant they were spending their first Christmas together. Except then the bubbles disappeared, and he half-thought that his hope would disappear along with them.
Until his phone started to play a familiar tone.
Rose was calling him. And not just calling, but FaceTiming him. Which meant that he’d get to see her on Christmas—even if it wasn’t in person.
Seeing her face on a small phone screen was better than not seeing it at all.
“Merry Christmas, Babe,” he said in lieu of a more traditional greeting.
She smiled a big, wide smile and he felt his heart twitch. Fuck, he missed her. “Merry Christmas Eve, baby,” she replied, the hint of sassiness in her voice enough to make something other than his heart twitch.
“Did Santa stop by last night?” he asked, trying to ignore the way his dick began to lengthen in his pajama pants. He was laying in his bed, which no longer smelled like her, and really, all he wanted for Christmas was something that was sure to end up with him on the naughty list.
“He didn’t, sadly. Where’s Wilbur?”
“Over there, sulking.” He turned the phone around to show her Wilbur curled up in his bed in the corner of the room.
“Oh nooooo. Why’s he all the way over there?”
“He tried to open a couple of the presents under the tree.” He chuckled, sharing with Rose the story of Wilbur’s surprised look when he’d been caught trying to rip off wrapping paper with his baby teeth.
“Uh oh.”
“He’ll get over it in a few minutes, I’m sure.” He looked over at the dog again, who was staring at him with mournful ey
es. He could, Liam realized, hear Rose’s voice and wanted to see her.
He couldn’t blame the little guy for that at all. “Okay, come on, buddy.” Wilbur jumped up and took a flying leap at the bed, only to fall short. Leaning over the side to scoop him up, he asked Rose, “Want to say hi?”
“Yes, definitely!” Her excitement was unparalleled—he didn’t think she even got that excited to talk to him. But then again, she and Wilbur had something extra special.
And Liam couldn’t begrudge the dog that had brought them together.
He watched for a minute or so as Rose talked to Wilbur as if he were a real person giving real answers to her questions, then turned the phone back toward himself. “So, if Santa didn’t come, then what did you get for Christmas?”
“Well, aside from the awesome baseball bat that you sent me”—she blew him a kiss, which he stupidly pretended to catch, only because it made her laugh—“my parents got me these.” She lifted a finger to one ear, bringing the camera in closer so he could see a small, red earring hanging from her lobe.
“Pretty. Ruby?” he asked, completely out of his depth when it came to jewelry.
“Garnet, actually. My birth stone.”
“Huh, okay. They look good on you, regardless.” He paused and confessed a truth. “They could be little pieces of tree bark and I’d think they’d look good though.”
Her giggle was almost shy and he gritted his teeth against the arousal coursing through him. And heading due south.
“Charmer. Did you have a good day?”
“It was pretty quiet, thankfully. Lots of people out of town and they’ve either boarded their animals or taken them along for the trip.”
“Makes sense.” A sadness stole over her face, probably thinking about how she hadn’t been able to bring Wilby along on her own trip.
Wanting desperately to cheer her back up, Liam decided to pass along a joke he’d heard earlier in the day. “Hey, what’s a dinosaur’s least favorite reindeer?”