I'm Not Charlotte Lucas(53)

“It was past midnight by the time Vera got home from the hospital, and Mom went over there. You weren’t up then, as far as I know.”

My head spun. Last night Vera broke a leg, and Mom went to her house, and Liam was there offering to move in? I glanced at the clock. “Shoot. I’ve got to run. Can you ask Mom to call me when she has an update?”

“Sure thing, pumpkin,” Dad said, never taking his eyes from the iPad.

I tore out of there, racing to work to open the bank for the day, but my mind was so distracted. I sat at the wrong desk, poured salt into Marissa’s coffee, and ignored Fernando when he asked, repeatedly, if I had next week’s schedule close to being ready.

The moment Todd stepped a foot inside the building just before noon, I clocked out. “I’m on lunch,” I called to him as he settled into his desk, his bewildered expression shooting between me and the woman at the teller counter being assisted by Marissa. Not my most professional moment, but I had three phone calls to make, and my body was shaking from the mounting anxiety.

First, I dialed Vera, and it went straight to voice mail. It would totally be like her to realize everyone wants to check in and conveniently forget to charge her phone.

Then I dialed Mom.

“Hey, sweetie,” she answered.

“How’s Vera? Dad told me about her leg this morning.”

“Well, I’m at her house now, and we’ve come up with a plan.” Mom sounded like she’d just gotten through delivering a scolding.

“How can I help?”

“Will you bring dinner over this evening? I’ll prepare it, but I need to be at the play practice with Mariah. Parent volunteering,” she added, slightly annoyed.

“Sure, I can handle that. But what about everything else?”

“Vera has everything else under control. We’re just going to help with meals until she’s back on both feet.”

“Nice joke, Mom. I hope she heard it.”

Mom laughed. “Well, she’s right here. So she probably heard.”

“Can you ask her to let me know if she needs anything else?”

“Of course. What are you doing now?”

“I’m at work.”

“Oh, I’d better let you go. Bye, sweetie.”

She hung up before I had a chance to say anything else, and I lowered my phone. I walked to the end of the sidewalk and located Liam’s number before I could think better of it.

“Hey.” His voice was deeper, smoother on the phone than I recalled it sounding in person.

“Hey back,” I said, sounding like a sixteen-year-old heartsick girl. I brought a hand up to cool my warming cheek.

He chuckled, and the sound somehow slid through the phone’s speaker and slithered down my neck, trailing goosebumps as it went.

I cleared my throat. “How’s Vera?”

He sighed. “She’s been better. I’m just glad it was only her leg. It could have been a lot worse.”

Bouncing on my toes, I kept silent, waiting for Liam to say that he was moving in next door. I wanted him to move in. I wanted the chance to walk to the mailbox—not that I did that anymore, but I would gladly check my parents’ mail ten times a day if it meant possibly running into Liam—and wondering if he was going to check his mail at the same time.

“Are you there?” he asked.

My brain ran away with the idea of Liam and me getting mail and casually chatting outside on the sidewalk, and I totally missed the fact that I was on the phone with him right now. My heels crashed onto the sidewalk with a jolt.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I just wanted to check in. I can’t believe all that happened last night.”

“I guess it was a good thing we postponed our milkshakes.” He sighed. “And now she needs all this help, and I’ve got to juggle Spike with it, and I’m not sure when we can do it.”

Disappointment settled in my stomach like a rock, anchoring me. “It’s fine. It was just milkshakes.” I tried to sound breezy, but I was pretty sure I just sounded like I’d stubbed my toe and was trying not to reveal how badly it hurt.

Silence drew out, and I hoped Liam was thinking the same thing I was, that it could have been more than just milkshakes.

“Didn’t you say once that you make a better chocolate malt than Carrow’s?”

“Maybe,” I hedged.

“Let’s test that theory.”

“Just say when.” Was I being too eager? I hoped not.

He chuckled, tightening the ropes that bound my heart. I wanted to believe, so badly, that this guy was into me. But how could he, when he was the Mr. Darcy dating women like Naomi Price, and I was Charlotte Lucas, dating losers like Andy?

Anxiety lifted within me like a rising tide, and I needed to cut the line before I said something stupid, like reminding him of my inferiority. I was an idiot. I wanted him so badly, but I was so afraid. “I have to get back to work.”

“Me too. Maybe you can bring malt ingredients to Vera’s tonight? I’ll be there after dinner.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be the one bringing dinner.”

“I was hoping that would be the case.”

My lips stretched an inordinate degree. “See you then.”

Hanging up, I went back into the bank.