but he said that swimming laps, with the same movement over and over, is a great activity especially since exercising regularly is another huge thing to do.”
He’d also started Liam on a low dose of an anti-anxiety medication, which he would start noticing a difference on in a few weeks. Liam had been hesitant at first to take something, but the doctor had kindly called him out on his hesitance.
Wouldn’t you cast your arm if you broke it? This isn’t any different. Part of what they talked about in therapy, though, was that he wasn’t broken and that he wasn’t less of a man for having to deal with the emotional fallout of stress and grief from his father’s death. That this wasn’t his new normal, and that he wouldn’t always feel like he was in emotional crisis. It had been a relief to hear that there were things they could do to address this, especially since he was a man-of-action. He didn’t mind that it would take time for him to be back to a place where he could feel comfortable presenting at a board meeting again—apparently having anxiety about anxiety was a common thing—but it was nice to know that it could be possible again someday. If he wanted to, that was.
It had also been a relief to know that a lot of men dealt with some form of anxiety or depression, even if it wasn’t talked about often. His therapist definitely gave him a lot to think about.
“I’m surprised you’d think of Hawaii,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because you’ve been everywhere, I bet. And Hawaii was the best?”
He considered this. He had been to a lot of incredible places, but Hawaii had been his very first thought when he was asked to think of a safe place. “I was happier in Hawaii than I have been in a long time,” he said. A lot of that had to do with spending time with Viola, but he wasn’t going to say that. She probably wouldn’t believe it anyway, not after he’d left her the way he had.
“Me too,” she said thoughtfully, and when he caught her gaze, something in his heart shifted. If Hawaii had been a fling, a hot flame of attraction burning between them, this was something different. Something firmer, more solid. More real.
The waiter slid between them to grab their dessert dishes, breaking the spell.
Viola cleared her throat and took a drink, turning to the person beside her to ask a question about his daughter. He took the hint to give her a little space, and let the woman beside him engage him in conversation about mutual people they might have known in L.A. They didn’t know any of the same people, but they had eaten at the same restaurants, and it was fun to debate where the best tacos in L.A. were.
The mayor stood soon after and walked to the podium at the front where he began to share the history of Eureka Springs with everyone.
Viola shifted in her seat beside him, her legs brushing against his as she turned. The fire of her touch singed his skin and made it hard to breathe—in a good way.
“And with that,” the mayor continued. “I’m pleased to present the Eureka Springs Citizenship award to Viola Nightingdale.”
Liam turned to her, surprised, as she stood and walked toward the podium, her back straight, her chin held high. She smiled gratefully as she stood beside the mayor and received the plaque.
“Viola Nightingdale is being honored for her great efforts to preserve the beauty of this town. I don’t know if there is anyone who loves Eureka Springs more—or sees its great potential better—than her. From her spring beautification project, to her tireless efforts to be as authentic as possible in her restoration efforts, Viola uplifts our city and our community.”
Liam sat back in his chair and listened, impressed by all of Viola’s accomplishments. He’d had no idea she was being honored at tonight’s dinner, and was honored himself that she’d invited him to come. Although that did make him pause. Why him? Why not one of the other people she’d known forever? Where was her grandma?
“Thank you, everyone,” Viola said as she stepped up to the mic. “It is incredible to be given this award. My very first memory is walking down Spring Street, standing between my mom and dad, holding their hands. They used to do that thing where, on the count of three, they’d lift their hands together, and I’d