Until There Was You(53)

At least that was done. Last will and testament, updated to include the value of the garage, plus another hefty life-insurance package. Advance directives, updated. Guardianship…well, it had always been the Tates. The only other option would be a stepmother, and Liam didn’t see that happening.

About a year after Emma’s death, he’d had an uneventful relationship with a nice enough woman—Paige, who owned the florist shop down the street from the garage where Liam worked. Uneventful was just what Liam was looking for—they’d had dinner once or twice a month, had sex afterward. It was fine. Emma had been the only one since senior year of high school, and being with someone else…all those differences, the feel of her hair, the way she smelled, the way they fit…it was a little weird. The sex was nice…it was sex, how could it not be nice? It just wasn’t…special.

They broke up amicably enough when Paige told him she was looking for a little more, and Liam couldn’t blame her. She was young, wanted a family…normal enough stuff. It’s just that he couldn’t do that. No hard feelings.

The doors to the elevator opened, and Liam went in. His own elevator was bad enough; the lawyer’s office was on the twenty-third floor, and it was an older building. The ride up had been painfully slow. Swallowing, Liam pressed the button for the lobby and waited. Some sappy song by Neil Diamond, made worse by the Muzak-ization of it. Oh, right, this was the one they played at the Sox game he’d dragged Nicole to last weekend to get her to start speaking to him again.

Suddenly the elevator gave a lurch, and Liam’s hands flew out to the walls. Shit! But the elevator continued on, though Liam thought he detected a lower note to the gears. Did he? Or was that just paranoia? After all, how many elevator cables snapped these days? Not a lot. You hardly ever heard about that kind of accident.

Still, his heart had that uncomfortable flopping feeling, and his chest was tight. He tried to breathe slowly. Calm down, idiot, he told himself. You’re fine. This is no time for a panic attack. Breathe in, hold it, breathe out, stop sucking in air, you’re going to hyperventilate. He knew the drill. And he had to get past these…events. Not cool to wig out when you were the only parent left.

Maybe he should get off and take the stairs, even if they were only at the eighteenth floor. Better than staying in this casket-waiting-to-happen. Liam swallowed thickly.

The elevator stopped, the doors opened and there stood Cordelia Osterhagen, looking at her phone. She took a step forward, then saw him and stopped. “Oh. Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” The doors pinged. “Getting on?” Liam asked, holding his hand on the door so it couldn’t close. His chest was tight still, but he wasn’t hyperventilating. Not yet, anyway.

“Yeah.” She stuffed her phone in her jeans pocket and came aboard. She wore sturdy-looking jeans and several layers of flannel, that lush mouth of hers the only feminine thing on her. Well, that and the hint of breast coming from under the layers of flannel. Was she humming?

The elevator started moving again. Crap. He’d missed his chance to get off. “You know this song?” he asked, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.

“Everyone knows this song. It’s my favorite song, as a matter of fact, so if you’re gonna make fun of it, don’t.”

“Neil Diamond. Huh.”

She gave him an evil look and hummed more loudly.

See, you can do this, his brain told him in a confident voice. You’ve hardly thought at all about the cable snapping, haven’t pictured Nicole sobbing over your casket and then going to live with Tates, who really couldn’t be happier at getting their grandchild all to themselves and turning her into a—

A grinding shudder ripped through the elevator, which screeched, then slammed to a stop. Shit! It was happening.

Then the lights went out.

“Oh, bieber,” Cordelia said.

Liam tried to breathe in. Didn’t seem to be working.

Okay, okay, just because he’d pictured this exact moment…nope, couldn’t happen. The cable had not snapped. Not yet, anyway. But the air was definitely being used up.

“Well, this is not good,” Cordelia said. “I have an appointment in twenty minutes.”

“Don’t talk,” Liam choked out. Because that would use air. And if there were no lights, then there was no air in the ventilation system—Don’t take me away from my baby—and they’d suffocate up here in the pitch black. Already his lungs were desperate for air, heaving in his chest. His legs were suddenly weak, and he leaned back against the wall, the inky blackness smothering. What about Cordelia? Was she suffocating, too? “Cordelia? You okay?”

“Of course I’m okay. Hang on.” He heard her clothes rustle. Then a light came on. Fantastic. She was the type who carried a keychain flashlight. Good girl. It didn’t alleviate the oxygen problem, but at least he wouldn’t die in the dark.

She shined the little beam onto the panel. “Think I should push the emergency button?” she asked.

“Yes! What are you waiting for?” he croaked, sucking in what felt like the last of the air.

“Chill, Liam. We’re only stuck. It’s not like the cable’s about to snap or something.”

Why would she say that? Was she psychic? Why would she mention the cable snapping? Was it a premonition? The elevator shuddered again, and Liam’s legs gave out. He sank to the floor.