Unplugged (Blue Phoenix, #3)(36)

As I mop up spilled juice, I resolve that next year Ella will have her party at an indoor play gym, far away from my house, even if I have to save all year.

“I’m taking a breather,” I whisper to Phoebe, “Find me hiding in the kitchen if you need me.”

Phoebe rubs my arm. “You okay?”

“Yes, overwhelming day. I’ll tidy some of this away.” I head into the kitchen with hands full of plastic bowls and plates.

In a way, the noise is good because it drowns out thoughts about how Craig has let down Ella by not being here, and my frustration of coping with this alone. Why did Ella have to mention Liam’s name? Since the card last month, he’s moved from hovering on the edge of my thoughts back into the forefront. I want to slap myself; I’m no better than the sixteen year old who lusted after a rock star. And he’s no more attainable.

Although he is, because Honey is out of his life.

Shit, Cerys, get a grip.

The doorbell rings and I glance at the clock. 4 p.m. I hope that’s the first of the parents come to collect their little darlings. I pick up the box full of party bags containing sweets and toys and head past the screaming hordes to the front door.

Phoebe gets to the door first; and when I come out of the kitchen, I see a hesitant and bewildered Liam standing in the hallway at the edge of the lounge, holding a gift wrapped in bright red paper. Taking the merest glance at him, I step back into the kitchen and stare at the box of party bags.

Liam.

I peek back around the doorway and the definitely-not-an-illusion Liam remains in the same place. He looks no different but why would he? It’s only been six months. As it’s a warm summer’s day, he wears a dark T-shirt, stretched across the defined muscles of his chest and no jacket. His bright, tattooed arms and red-haired ponytail have drawn attention from a few of the party guests and ironically, he’s quieted the riot over ‘pass the parcel’ prizes.

“Uncle Liam!” Ella’s voice shrieks through the room.

The bemused look he gives the chocolate-faced princess charging toward him softens his image. The warm smile he gives her squeezes my heart until it shatters into tiny pieces; the pieces I’ve fought to hold together because I know my mind will follow. The strength I need to hold myself together on a daily basis comes from closing out emotion; and the sight of my daughter’s face filled with excitement at seeing the man from Christmas, blows a hole in the defences so big I won’t be able to patch it in a hurry.

Phoebe appears in the kitchen and shoves my arm. “Cerys! Is that who I think it is?”

I put down the box and wipe biscuit crumbs from my blue top. “Liam? He’s an old friend.”

“You have a member of Blue Phoenix as an ‘old friend’?” she splutters, making quotation marks around ‘old friend’ with her fingers. “You never said he was coming here today!”

“I didn’t know he was.”

“Hmm, judging by the lack of colour in your face, I’d say this was a surprise.”

“Yeah.”

Phoebe leans around the door too, then back to me. “Wow. Make sure you introduce me before he leaves.”

“Of course.”

“I mean, I’m a married woman and everything but... rock star!”

I bite back a smile, remembering the conversation I had with him about lollipops and kittens. The guy crouched down talking to the five year old continues to ruin his badass rock star image.

Hiding in the kitchen for the rest of the afternoon isn’t an option, especially since his arrival has paused party proceedings. I sidle out of the room and lean against the wall, tucking my trembling hands beneath my arms. The other group of mums whisper and stare at him as if he landed from another planet. The look on my face isn’t much different.

Ella turns and points in my direction and Liam spots me. As he crosses the room, everything from Christmas crosses with him: the excitement of the unknown, the longed-for sensation of his lips, and the ache when he left. The emerald green eyes meet mine as he stands in front of me; the softness in his look holds a wariness too. I’m glad my hands are tucked away because my palms sweat. I’ve dreamt about this man; fantasised he’ll come back and see me, and that Christmas could carry on.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him and his brightness edges away at my sharp tone. “I don’t mean... I mean, I’m surprised.”

“I made a promise to Ella,” he says. “I thought I should keep it since I haven’t done very well at keeping my promises to people recently.”

Honey.

He’s turning my brain into liquid. I have no idea what to say. The shock of his arrival and his proximity are tearing me from the world of children’s parties. I continue my dumb staring.

“How are you?” he asks.

“Mmm.”

“Mmm?”

My heart thumps in my ears and I cringe at my behaviour. Liam’s misreading the situation because he steps back. From the corner of my eye, I see the other mums watching in what can only be described as stunned silence. This situation is ridiculous.

“Did you want a drink?” I ask, eventually. “Or something to eat? Did you come far?”

Liam surveys the remains of the party food. With a glint in his eye, he picks up the pink-covered cupcake. “These look like they’d suit me.”