wink. I want to hate him, but I don’t think I can. I kinda see how Emily could’ve given into him and his British charm, he is slightly sexy. I don’t think he’s a bad guy, just confused and very misinformed. He and Emily are very similar and, in an interesting way, remind me of one another. They both seem to believe everything at face value. How do people not know that things are not always as they seem? Even if we think our loved ones are telling us the truth, sometimes they’re not. I’m not sure what he thinks he knows about Louis, but I’ve known Louis Bruel for almost twelve years and his only fault is loving my best friend too much. “I made tea and ordered us some breakfast, now why don’t you tell me how you knew to call me Liam?”
His question catches me off guard. Did I call him Liam? I called him Liam because he doesn’t look like a Will or a William; he looks like a Liam. I don’t even remember saying or calling him Liam outside my head. “Sorry, it was a slip of the tongue. It won’t happen again, Will, William, or Mr. Knight. I’ll call you whatever you tell me to call you.” He looks down and that carefree, smiling, winking Liam—I mean Will—is gone.
“No, it’s quite all right, it’s just that only a handful of people call me that. I…I just miss being called Liam.” He swallows and almost looks as if he may start to cry. I suddenly need to know who used to call him Liam and why they stopped.
“Why don’t you just tell people your name is Liam and not Will if you like it?” That’s not the real question I want to ask, but I don’t think he’s comfortable enough to tell me the truth yet; therefore, I just do what I do best and fish around for information.
“Leave it, it doesn’t matter. You just rattled me a bit by calling me Liam. Let’s talk about Emily. You mentioned she wanted to ask me some questions.” And he’s back to the smiling, winking British boy from the bar last night. I need to know more about him before I offer him any information on Emily. I need to gain his trust and understand his motives to be able to diffuse him and send him packing.
“Liam—I mean Will…fuck. Argh, I’m sorry.” Stop calling him Liam!
He smiles placing his hand on my knee to assure me it’s all good. “No worries, love. I like you calling me Liam.”
I look up at him and for a split second, I see my life in a completely different light than the hell I orchestrated for myself. For a moment, I feel hope. As soon as he removes his hand from my knee, that spark is gone and I’m hopeless once again. I don’t remember if I asked him, or he asked me something. I must look as confused as I feel because he’s looking at me with pity. I don’t fucking need his pity, I just want to get him out of my friend’s life and figure out a way for me to disappear where surely no one will notice or get a heart attack over my absence.
“Tell me about this book. Is there a way I can get my hands on it? I’d like to read it for myself and perhaps understand if, in fact, it’s non-fiction or fantasy.” I take another sip of my delicious tea and think back to my time in London—the Brits really do make the best cup of tea.
“I have the book, but I’m not sure you reading it is best. You seem to be on guard when it comes to Louis Bruel. Are you and he related?” he asks.
I laugh at his ridiculous statement. “You think I’m defensive when it comes to Louis, who’s my friend-in law? What kind of reaction are you hoping to get from Emily once you start slandering her husband?”
“Sara, I’m not slandering the holy Louis Bruel! I’m just stating facts.”
“Facts? Liam, did someone disclose these facts to you? Were you there in person to witness these alleged acts between Louis and someone else? How are you certain that the information in that book is the truth and not a concocted tale your sister fabricated?”
He stands up without breaking eye contact. I can see I’ve just pressed the center of the wound. If he could kill me with a