Page 29 of The Night
“Well, I don’t. I told you earlier today, I’m not interested in explanations or long, heartfelt stories. I don't need for you and me to be all kumbaya, okay? You left, and it was shitty. It hurt my tiny feels, I admit it. But that wasfive years ago. I’m over it. I’vebeenover it. I see absolutely no need to rehash it.”
I literally could not think of anything worse than Liam explaining what had happened five years ago. How he’d woken up to realize what a huge mistake we’d made, how he’d chosen to leave without a word of explanation because he was too horrified to explain it to my face. Not tomentionthe whole secondary issue of him having had achildat the time. One he hadn’t even mentioned to me.
Jesus fuck no. I’d rather pose for a hundred shirtless pictures with kittens. I’d rather let the entire town of O’Leary set me up on dates. I’d rather dress up as Santa and pass out Joe’s fucking flyers on Weaver Street.
Because after Liam explained, what would he do? Say he wished he’d handled things better, but how ultimately it had worked out for the best? And then… was I supposed to laugh and smile and say no hard feelings? Fuck that. I wasn’t built for niceties. The very idea made me want to hiss like Fia.
Liam McKnight was gorgeous and kind and funny and sexy as hell—a fucking human flame that could light the darkest night, burn away the deepest chill. But when we came together? It was an uncontrolled blaze.
I didn’t hate the man. Exactly the opposite. And that made me remember how vulnerable I was.
“But—”
“But nothing. Subject closed. And I’m not kidding, Liam. We’ll talk about the weather and...and...pie flavorsfor the rest of the evening, and we’ll sign the paperwork tomorrow, and it’ll be done. You go your way, I’ll go mine.”
Liam clenched his teeth. “You’re afu—fa la la-ingpain in the posterior, you know that?”
“Many men have said so.”
“Ugh.” Liam rolled his eyes. “Fine. Have it your way.” I could almost swear he muttered something under his breath about “air kisses and handshakes,” but he didn’t push the issue, so I didn’t call him on it.
I pulled another beer from the fridge and tipped it in Liam's direction. This time he took it.
“So. Photography business going well?”
My small talk ability was basically non-existent and—shocker!—Liam noticed. His eyebrow lifted mockingly.
“Pretty sure this isn’t pie flavors.”
“From what I remember it’s your favorite conversation topic in the world, so not exactly a conversational minefield either, is it?” I frowned. “Orisit?”
“Nah.” He waved a hand, but his smile was gone. “Photography’s fine. Keeps the lights on. So far.”
“Wow. Don’t hurt yourself with that enthusiasm. I seem to remember you wanting to permanently mount a camera to your hand.”
In fact, that excitement had been one of the first things that had drawn me to him... but thatwasa conversational minefield, so I steered clear.
“I love photography. Just, like most things, it loses some of its shine when you’re doing it forwork. Gotta take all the jobs that come your way, even the ones that don’tspeak to your muse.” His mouth twisted into a self-mocking smile. “Welcome to adulthood, right?”
“I don’t know. Is adulthood supposed to be misery?”
“It’s not misery, it’s compromise. I’m focusing on the steady paycheck, so I can pay for college and retirement and all that. Oh, life insurance too.” He laughed shortly. “One of those things you don’t think about until it’s too late.”
“But there’s gotta be a place where what you want to do and what youhaveto do overlap, right? A happy medium? A thing you enjoy doing that will also make you money?”
He snorted. “A happy medium.”
“What? It’s a thing.”
“I know, I know. Just, earlier today I was thinking…” He broke off with a shake of his head. “Never mind. Yeah, you’re right. It would be nice to find a happy medium somehow.”
“Hazel said you were working on a book.”
“Uh. Yeah. Just an idea I’m working on in my copious spare time.” He lifted a shoulder. “More of a pipe dream for now.”
He sounded a little dubious, which was totally unlike the Liam I remembered, and it made me a little sad.
It was tempting to think he’d left that morning back in Vegas and sort of ridden off into a happy sunrise, but that wasn’t true, just like it wasn’t true that I’d been miserable every minute we’d been apart, or that we’d havedefinitelybeen happier if he’d stayed.