Unplugged (Blue Phoenix, #3)(38)

“She’d forgotten about you.”

“Really? She seemed to recognise me when I arrived today.” Again, the undertone of our conversation hangs in the air.

“I don’t think you’re forgettable to a five year old, Liam. Not many men look like you.”

He grins. “Yeah, always with the hair.”

“I couldn’t imagine Liam Oliver without his signature locks,” I say and smile. I really didn’t want to smile.

“How are you really?” he asks.

“Single mum of a five year old with no life. You?”

“Bass player for Blue Phoenix and occasional pirate.”

This space is too small, the awareness of Liam’s presence too big. “Why are you really here?” I ask him.

“I said I’d come.”

“That makes no sense. Why would someone like you come to a five-year-old’s birthday party?”

“I told you. I said I would.” He pauses and rubs his cheek. “And I wanted to see you again.”

I can’t. I grab some cups and put them in the sink, ignoring the breath knocked out of me. He can’t.

“Cerys?”

“It was very sweet of you to come to Ella’s party, thank you.” My hair sweeps across my cheek and I push it behind an ear. No, no, no. He can’t say more. “Do you want a drink?” I ask, turning back. “Or do you need to get going?”

“You want me gone?”

“I don’t want you upsetting Ella. She’ll think this is like Christmas again and you’ll be around for a while. I don’t want her hurt when you leave again.”

Liam pulls himself forward and moves to the very edge of my personal space. I don’t need him to say the next words because they echo mine.

“I wish it was like Christmas again. I wish you hadn’t left. If I’d known...”

“Known about what?”

“If I’d known you and Ella’s dad didn’t stay together after Christmas, I’d never have gone back to my own stupid relationship with Honey.”

I close my eyes and swallow the rising lump in my throat. “Liam, Christmas was just...a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Some fun.”

Liam doesn’t reply so I open my eyes again. “You really believe that?” he asks.

“I believe that if it was more than fun, you’d have got in touch with me.”

There’ve been many nights wishing Liam were lying beside me in bed, dreaming about what would’ve happened if I’d made the decision to go into his room that night. What would Liam have done, what would sex be like with a man whose touch seared my skin, and who kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before? The heart skipping moments when I came across him on TV; the unwarranted tears when I saw him in magazines with Honey. All of this has eaten away at me.

“I’ll have that drink you’re offering, and then I want to talk to you before I go.” He moves back to the counter.

I side glance him. “Talk about what?”

“A lot.”

Liam asks for coffee because he’s driving, so I leave my glass of wine and pull out two mugs. As I’m making the drinks, he asks if I want him to put Ella into bed because she’s asleep on the floor. How is he like this? How can a man who lives a life of excess come to my small house in Cardiff and know not to leave her sleeping on the floor? It’s as if he’s doing it deliberately to worm his way into my affections. Not that he needs to. I tell him to put Ella onto her bed.

I place Liam’s coffee on the table and curl up on the brown armchair with my mug. Gift wrap and trampled-in food surround us, balloons from the walls now on the floor. Liam returns and sits. He picks up a balloon and twists it around in his hands.

“A bit different to my usual parties,” he says.

“Yes, I bet you have women lying around on the floor not balloons at the end of yours.”

He smirks. “In the old days, we’re not that bad anymore.”

“Sure, you’re not.” I return his smile.

“I’m over all that; believe it or not, that shit gets boring after a while.”

“Is that why Blue Phoenix split?”

“We haven’t,” he says tersely. “We needed a break after the months of crap that went on.”

I sip my coffee. “So what are you doing on your break? When you’re not running from weddings.”

“Why are you angry with me?” he asks.

“I’m not angry with you. Why would I be?”

“Cold then.”

“Do you want me to be honest with you?”

Liam pushes a strand of hair from his face that’s strayed from his ponytail so I can see his concerned eyes more clearly. “Yes.”

“How could I believe Christmas meant something? You told me your engagement was off; and then two weeks after Christmas, you were with Honey behaving as if nothing had happened.” As if I never happened, I want to say.

“You walked away,” he says quietly. “I didn’t think there was a chance for us. Yeah, maybe I did the wrong thing going back to Honey, but I thought she’d fill the hole you left.”

“Wow, don’t I feel special,” I mutter.