“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Corey asks through gritted teeth. When I don’t, he steps forward and holds out a reluctant hand. “Corey Gorman.”
Liam doesn’t shake. “Liam Campbell.”
Corey’s surprised. “Campbell?” He looks hopeful. “Are you related?”
Liam puts an arm around my shoulder. “I hope not, because we’d probably get arrested in some states, eh, El?”
I’m shocked by what he said. Liam smiles and kisses my head.
Corey’s lips are pinched. “So you two …?”
Liam pulls me tightly against him. “Pretty much.”
Corey eyes the box in his hand. He’s clearly devastated. I feel bad for him. I still care about him despite what he did to me. “Corey, I’m sorry, but I’ve tried to tell you for months it’s over.”
Defeated, he starts for the door, pausing to put the flowers on the credenza. He glances back at Liam. “Liam Campbell. Where have I heard that name before?”
Liam shrugs. “Beats me.”
“Goodbye, Ella,” he says. “I hope you’ll be happy.”
I hold back tears.
The door closes, and Liam lets me go, confused by my reaction. “Why are you crying? Did you want to marry him?”
“No, but he was a big part of my life for a long time, and now it seems so final.”
“This was a good thing, then. He knows you’re unavailable. Maybe now he’ll be able to move on.”
“Am I unavailable?”
He nods to the hair on the floor. “We should clean that up. I’ll get dressed while you find me a dustpan.”
He comes out of the bathroom as I throw the hair in the trash. “Do you want a drink?” I ask from the kitchen.
“I was going to clean up the floor.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“You did a great job on the haircut. Can I buy you dinner as a thank you?”
“I’m not very hungry. I ate a lot at lunch.”
“But you need to eat something. How about I order in? Pizza?”
I point to a drawer. “Menus are in there.”
He peruses them and places a call. Then he opens the fridge. “You have beer?”
“I’m not a prude, Liam. Of course I have beer.”
“But I’ve never seen you drink much.”
“I drink.”
“One drink is not drinking. Sometimes you have to relax and let go.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you saying you want to get drunk with me?” Then I realize I shouldn’t be fighting it. Maybe drinking together will loosen him up. Maybe the alcohol will make him more amenable to my touch. I motion for a beer. “Hand one over.”
He smiles. “Have you ever played drinking games?”
“I played quarters in college a few times.”
“Quarters? What are you, fifty? I’m talking beer pong. Flip-cup? The dice game?”
“Nope, sorry. I was the good girl.”
“You’ve got a lot to learn. Do you have a ping-pong ball?”
“Why would I?”
“Right. Dice then?”
“I’m not playing a drinking game with you, Liam. Especially not one I know I’ll lose.”
“Fine. Quarters.” He searches my cabinets until he finds the appropriate glasses. “These will do.”
“Are you serious about this?”
“Hell yes.”
“What are we playing for?”
He laughs. “You don’t play for anything, El. You play to get drunk.”
“Fine, but I get a mulligan.”
“A what?”
“A mulligan. You know, I get to try again if I miss.”
He looks confused.
“My dad’s a big golfer,” I explain. “You’ve never heard of a mulligan?”
“Whatever, let’s play.”
I take several practice shots realizing playing quarters is like riding a bike. Though I haven’t done it in years, I’m not half bad. We play and joke and laugh. By the time the pizza gets here, I’m three beers in and ravenous for more than just food.
“I thought you said you weren’t hungry,” he says when I take my second slice.
“I’d forgotten how well pizza and beer go together. I can’t tell you how many nights Jenn and I did this in college.”
“What were you like back then?”
“Pretty much the same as I am now.”
“Did you always know you wanted to illustrate books?”
I shake my head. “I loved creating things. Drawing, painting, sketching. I knew I wanted to do something with it, but I didn’t know what. I kind of fell into the children’s book thing during my senior year when a friend of a friend was looking for an illustrator, so I showed him some of my stuff.”
Liam drops his slice of pizza.
“What is it?”
“I’m figuring out how much I don’t know about you.”
“Because you rarely ask questions.” I put my hand on his. “It’s okay. I get it. If you ask me questions, you’re afraid I’ll ask about your past.”