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Chapter Twenty-Four

Nancy

M y time at Liam’s place was wonderful and disorienting.

A seesaw of emotional extremes. My days were spent in the makeshift office in Liam’s living room, trying to work.

Focus was hard to find. I vacillated between wiggling my toes with manic joy, laughing out loud for no reason, worrying about my sisters, and stressing about the stairwell thugs.

And missing Lucia so sharply I could taste it. Grief had left a hard, permanent lump in my throat that only Liam’s embrace could ease.

I had gotten over my embarrassment at being fixed up by Lucia. At this point, it comforted me that she had picked him out. A benediction from beyond.

He’d won my sisters over completely. They were blatantly rooting for him now, but somehow, that ratcheted the pressure up even higher.

Feasting on abundant home-cooked food was having its inevitable effect.

My jeans were tighter, to my chagrin. Liam certainly didn’t seem to care.

I bought an espresso pot in Latham, a bean grinder, and a sizable stash of coffee beans, and with that small but crucial detail handled, I was in a state of total bliss.

I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to slow down.

We stayed close to home for security’s sake, other than trips to Lucia’s house.

Eventually it would be time to venture out again.

But for now, Liam’s safe, beautiful house was just what I had desperately needed.

No. Liam was what I needed. The house was just an expression of him.

In the evenings, we would wrap ourselves in a blanket and sit together on his porch swing, listening to birds, crickets, frogs, wind chimes.

Sometimes talking about anything and everything.

Sometimes sitting in a companionable silence.

Sometimes kissing madly. A fearful little voice in my head kept whispering cynically, get it while you can. I did my best not to pay attention.

Liam was still carrying the gun around, but over a week had passed with no attacks on me, so the immediacy of the threat had eased. I was as ready as I would ever be to broach the subject they had been avoiding until now.

Which was to say…what came next.

It had been wonderful, staying up here. Relaxing, healing, delicious. Just what the doctor ordered. But I couldn’t stay up here cloistered in his bed forever. In any case, Liam had other jobs scheduled. The real world beckoned to both of us.

My best-case scenario, which was also my wildest romantic fantasy, was to integrate my two realities. Make him part of my actual life. I liked the person I was with him. That woman was so much happier, more relaxed, more joyful. And so very pleasured.

I’d make the adjustments. I’d be flexible. I’d make it work. He was so worth it.

I made the leap one evening while we were making soda bread in his kitchen, a tasty stew bubbling on the stove. I told him I needed to drive back to New York.

His expression did not change. “What for?”

“To leave Moxie with Freedy’s wife, Andrea, when I go to the FolkWorld Conference next week,” I explained.

He looked alarmed. “A conference?”

“It’s important,” I said. “For me and for all my artists. Freedy and Peter and Enid and Mandrake are all performing. Eoin will be playing, too. And I won’t be alone for one second. I promise you. I’ll be surrounded by everyone I know, in fact.”

He let out a skeptical grunt. “Is Freedy another of your exes?”

“Yes, but it’s very amicable,” I assured him. “Particularly now. I’m so over it, I can’t even tell you. Freedy has a showcase Friday night at FolkWorld, but Andrea has to work, so she’s staying in the city. She promised to look after Moxie for me.”

“Why not just leave her here with me?”

I studied his unreadable profile and gathered my nerve for the big play. “Thank you for offering. That brings me to another thing I wanted to ask you.”

“Ask away.” He mixed milk into the batter with a wooden spoon, waiting.

I took a deep breath and blurted it out. “Want to come with me?”

He froze, his hands buried in dough. “To your conference?”

I hastened on. “Yes. It’s in Boston, at the Amory Lodge. I could get you a listener’s pass. You’d stay in my room. And seeing as how it’s a weekend, and you have a job scheduled for next week, I figured, maybe you could drive up Saturday.”

“Hmph.” He looked unconvinced.

“This is the thing,” I went on. “I’ve been experiencing your life since I’ve been here, staying in your house, eating your food, sharing your bed, and it’s wonderful.

I love it. But I have my own life, and it’s calling me.

I’d like you to come to get to know my world the way I’ve gotten to know yours.

The conference will be crazy, and I’ll be networking with agents and presenters, and we probably won’t sleep much, but you’ll hear some great music and meet some interesting people.

And Eoin would be ecstatic to have a friend in the audience.

Mandrake’s showcase will be his first performance. It kicks off their spring tour.”

He gathered the dough into a loose ball. “What night is Eoin’s thing?”

“Saturday night. At eleven-thirty, if you can believe it.”

He laid the dough on the floury countertop, still not meeting my eyes. “I was thinking of taking a few more days off,” he admitted.

“You were?” I said hopefully.

“But I was thinking along the lines of running away with you. Someplace where I won’t have to share you with hundreds of people. I know a guy on the coast who charters sailboats. I thought, four or five days, no worries, no looking over our shoulders. No cell coverage.”

I snorted. “You do like to push your luck, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “All the way to the very end.”

I watched his floury fingers patting dough into the loaf shape. “It does sound wonderful,” I said. “But I was hoping—” I stopped, still unsure of myself.

“What were you hoping?” He laid the dough onto a floured baking sheet. He flicked his gaze up, frowning impatiently when I didn’t answer. “Tell me.”

“I want this to be real, Liam,” I said. “Right now it’s just a fairy tale, totally removed from my real life. I have to pinch myself to make sure you exist.”

He slipped his arms around my waist, careful not to touch me with his floury hands. “Let me prove to you that I exist, sweetheart.”

I swatted him. “Stop trying to distract me, damn it. I want my friends to meet you. I want you to hear my artists. I want this to be real.”

He pondered that. “How long is this conference?”

“Four days. Thursday through Sunday.”

He tapped his fingers on the counter. “I propose a compromise.”

“Yeah? Lay it on me.”

“How about I come to the conference Saturday night, see Eoin’s showcase, and experience your life Sunday. Then Monday we go sailing for a few days. Deal?”

My heart soared. “Deal. That sounds amazing.”

“Great,” he said. “I’ll call the guy and make the reservation.

Now, let me put this in the oven and wash my hands so I can touch you properly.

” He scrubbed and rinsed his hands and pulled me into a tight embrace.

I felt the emotional intensity in his hard, urgent grip, and gave it right back to him. Clinging like a vine.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” I said. “It makes me feel like there’s hope for us.”

He was so quiet for so long, apprehension gripped me. “Sorry,” I said, through gritted teeth. “Forget I said that, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m hoping for that, too.”

Huh. Didn’t seem like he was hoping too hard, judging from his tone, but a girl could try. I buried my face against his sweater and hung on with all my strength.

As if strength had anything to do with hanging on to a man’s love.