Chapter 182
It’s beautiful. Minimal but warm, all soft lighting and clean lines, with a skyline view so ridiculous it looks like a movie set. There’s a guitar propped against the wall, jackets casually draped over the back of a leather couch, and books — actual paperbacks – stacked beside a record player
–
–
There are traces of him everywhere. Which means I’m about to
combust
Liam places a gentle hand on the small of my back and nudges me forward. “Stop hovering like you’re casing the place. Come in.”
“I’m casing the place in case I need to rob you.” I say dryly, stepping in.
“Cute You’ll be happy to know the only thing worth stealing is already in my apartment.”
I can’t help but snort. “So this is where you vanish to when you’re not texting me back.”
Liam tosses his key card onto a tray. “Guilty. But now that you’re here, it officially feels like home.”
“God, that was corny.”
He grins. “You love it.”
“I tolerate it.”
“Sure, love.” He steps toward me, gaze soft but maddening. “Now sit.
Please
Chapter 182
“Why?”
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“Because you’ve been on your feet all day and I’d like to look at you while you’re not trying to escape my compliments.”
I narrow my eyes. “Feels a little bossy.”
He leans in, brushing a hand down my arm. “Fine. Consider it a personal favour to me. Sit so I can admire you without being tempted to kiss you stupid right this second.”
I arch a brow. “This is your version of restraint?”
“Absolutely not. Restraint would’ve been letting you leave the bakery instead of kidnapping you for a date just so I can dress you in that dangerously illegal dress.”
I snort, finally dropping onto the nearest plush chair. “Happy now?”
He tilts his head, eyes dark and way too focused. “Getting there.”
“God help me.”
“No need. I’m more than enough,” he murmurs, then adds with zero shame, “Also, stay right there. I have gifts. No, you’re not allowed to argue. And yes, it’s romantic, not bribery.”
“Romantic bribery.”
He winks. “Exactly.”
And with that, he disappears down the hall.
–
I actually try to behave. For a solid minute and a half, I sit there, legs crossed, hands in my lap. But the quiet gets to me or maybe it’s the buzz in my blood, the one that always kicks in when Liam says he’s
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thought of me. When he does things like this.
I get up.
—
His apartment feels… lived in, but not cluttered. Sleek furniture, warm lighting, shelves lined with books mostly self–help, which makes me laugh under my breath. Of course he’s a self–help reader.
A few titles catch my eye
–
newer, glossy ones. A couple romance novels that look suspiciously like the ones I’ve ranted about to him during late–night calls. I pause, fingers brushing the spine of one I know I called “devastating and dumb and perfect” in the same sentence. He remembered. He bought it. My chest tightens.
Then there are the pictures.
Dozens of them, framed on the wall in soft natural light – his siblings, mostly. Laughing, hugging, mid–summer tan lines and sun flares. One of Elijah with a frosting–smeared nose. Another of Mar smiling with an annoyed looking Liam behind him.
And him — Liam, in every one, with that unguarded smile he never posts on social media. The real one. The one he saves for the people he loves.
And then I see the photo book. The one he gave me a copy of
Only his version doesn’t stop where mine did. It keeps going.
—
Photo after photo of me.
Us.
Snapshots I didn’t even know he took: my head on his shoulder during a flight. My hand tangled in his hoodie while I yawned. Me asleep in the bakery, mouth slightly open, his handwriting scrawled underneath:
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she drools when she sleeps, but it’s okay. I still love her.
Love.
My fingers shake a bit.
–
And others – pressed flowers. Ticket stubs. A coffee receipt with a note scribbled in the corner: she liked this place, take her back.
My throat goes tight.
How is it possible someone likes me this much? This quietly, this consistently, this thoughtfully?
And what have I ever given him in return?
I’m seconds away from spiraling into the dark, sinking kind of doubt when the door he disappeared behind clicks open.
EMILIA
Liam sighs behind me, low and fond. “Do you ever listen when I tell you to stay put?”
I swipe at my face before turning around, hoping I don’t look as emotional as I feel. “I’m sorry. I tried,” I say with a half–hearted smile. “I really did.”
The moment he sees my face, his teasing drops away. He steps in close, one hand cradling my cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath my eye.
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Chapter 183
