Until There Was You(81)

He laughed and found…well, it wasn’t such a bad song after all.

When they got to her place, he walked her to the door. “I had a great day,” he said, and it was true. Maybe the first day since Emma had died and when he wasn’t with Nicole where he’d had a really good time.

“Me, too,” she said, and there was the telltale blush.

Shilo (named after, yes, a Neil Diamond song, she’d told him) pushed his giant head in between them. “Go ahead, Shilo,” she said, letting the dog in the house. “Um…you can come in, too. If you want.” Her face was studiously neutral.

A warning bell clanged in Liam’s head. Today had been great…but he didn’t want her reading too much into it, not when he could offer her so little. “I should probably go.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for lunch.”

“Thanks for the medallion. And the shag.” And for making me relax, and feel better, and finding me a one-of-a-kind gift, and taking me to your favorite place. And by the way, don’t fall in love with me, Cordelia. No one’s ever been glad they did that.

“You’re welcome.”

“See you around, then.” He almost hated saying it, the casual dismissal, but it wouldn’t hurt to remind her. This was a no-commitment fling. Friends with bennies. Nothing else.

He could tell by the look on her face the message had been received. “Hang on a sec. I almost forgot.” She went into the house and returned a second later, his leather jacket in her hand. “Thanks for this.”

Liam hesitated. “Keep it for a while. I have a couple.” Why’d you do that? the smarter part of his brain asked.

“I do have a coat of my own, you know,” she said, giving him an out.

“Well, hang on to it anyway.” He was an idiot. But the idiot was rewarded with a smile.

“Okay, biker boy. See you around.”

He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he reached out and punched her lightly on the shoulder. “See you around.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“I’M DEFINITELY IN love,” Posey said one night. Jon and Henry had invited her to dinner (well, Jon had, and Henry was present). Posey was lounging on the camel-backed Victorian sofa she’d found for Jon several years ago, which he’d had re-covered in a luscious gold-and-blue hydrangea print, and the boys’ cute little Colonial was redolent with the smell of lime and cilantro. “I’m pretty sure he is, too.”

After three weeks, she and Liam had settled into a pattern. They’d see each other a couple of times a week—the nights that Nicole spent either at friends’ houses or with her grandparents. They were dating, no matter what he did or didn’t call it. He took her out to dinner one night in Portsmouth. One Sunday afternoon they rented a boat and motored slowly through the estuary, looking for herons and osprey. One time, he’d spent the entire night, when Gret was visiting a friend and Nicole was with her grandparents. They’d fooled around, eaten, fooled around again and then watched movies till she fell asleep, her head on his lap in the great room, Meatball and Jellybean snuggled against her belly, Shilo sprawled on her lower half. If that wasn’t heaven, waking up to Liam Murphy stroking her hair and Iron Man 2 on the telly, what was?

And if Liam wasn’t quite in love, he was close. He certainly seemed happy; that was one of the best things about their times together, the teasing insults and smiling kisses. He even seemed less tense regarding Nicole. One night, she brought him up to the belfry, and they’d sat there, holding hands and sipping wine next to the jammed, rusted gears and big iron bell as the peepers chorused from the swamp behind her house. How could that not be love?

“Sorry, pet. It’s not love until you go public,” Jon pronounced. “You need romantic intention stated out in the open. Like if he was here, spending time with the most important men in your life, it would mean something. Right, Henry?”

“What?” Henry said, glancing up from a book—Traumatic Amputations in Nonsterile Settings.

“Meeting each other’s families, going public with love. Remember? We held hands when Max and Stacia came down for Parents’ Weekend. We were walking across the quad, Posey, all these families everywhere, and your brother took my hand. That’s when I knew it was real.”

“Knew what was real?” Henry asked, frowning.

“Never mind,” Jon sighed. “Posey, has Liam kissed you in front of other people yet?”

She pretended to think about it. “No. But we ran into each other at the bakery yesterday, and we talked.”

“About what?”

“Um…the baseball game,” she admitted. “He had five hits in one night. Stubby’s won, seventeen to six.”

“Who were they playing?”

“Curl Up and Dye.”

“Well, that explains it. But seriously, who gets on base five times in one game?”

“Well, not me, that’s for sure,” Posey said.

“Anyway, back to the public displays. Does he call you sweetheart or kiss you or lick your neck?” Jon asked.

“No. There was no licking.” Not then, anyway. She smiled.

“Then I’m not sure we can say he’s in love. Not yet. Or he is, but he’s not brave enough to show it.”

“Who are we talking about?” Henry asked.