Even in the direct aftermath, I’d never bought her version of the story. They never should have stolen a boat and taken it out for a joyride, that much I could agree on. But who could find fault in any of their actions during the sudden storm that splintered the boat? Chase had gone overboard and from what it sounded like, Liam had acted heroically by jumping in after him, dragging him back up to the surface and tying them both to a life raft. If he’d stayed on board with Ian, Chase would have died. Plus, Jax had been on the boat with Ian. Why didn’t she blame him?
Even back as a teenager, I’d never listened to her version of the accident. But at 18 I had listened to her advice about leaving Liam. She’d taken it as a personal affront when we’d started dating, as if I’d done it to personally injure her. I’d kept it secret as long as I could, but she’d sniffed it out and made my life hell for the six remaining weeks of the summer. And then she’d won. She’d persuaded me to end things. I’d regretted it instantly. I just hadn’t realized I’d still be regretting it seven years later.
* * *
§
* * *
I was at my new apartment when I got the text from Liam. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since that intense afternoon at the studio. He was in California? I’d had no idea.
I’d lain out a yoga mat and a thick blanket on the hardwood floor, but it still felt like lying on a rock. So I sat up, reading to keep my mind occupied. Then he asked if he could call me. Holy crap.
I didn’t know what was going on, had no idea what was going through his mind about all of this. I didn’t even know my own mind. I hadn’t dated anyone like Liam in the intervening years. Then again, I never met anyone else even remotely like him. My one serious boyfriend, George, had been European, the son of a diplomat, older than me by six years. He’d dripped with worldliness and sophistication, culture and refinement.
But he hadn’t really gotten to me at all. Liam turned me on more with just a look than anyone had since…well, since him. Now that I saw him again, I had to wonder what I’d been thinking, devoting time to any other man. Anyone else so obviously paled in comparison. But that was the thing, I hadn’t had Liam to compare them with. I’d thought he was out of my life forever. Now that he was back, it was like the lights had been turned on and I looked around wondering what the hell I’d been missing.
I told him yes, he could call me. And then I waited. If there was one thing I hated it was waiting for a man to call me. Childishly, I contemplated turning off the ringer just to show my defiant independence. See, I didn’t need him to call me. But then I’d miss his call and I didn’t want that to happen.
Finally, a full 20 minutes after he’d asked and I’d said yes, my phone rang.
“Hey.” I sounded breathless even though I’d been sitting the whole time. My pulse was racing, though.
“Hey.” His voice sounded low and smooth and just like that, every cell in my body began to hum. I didn’t know how or why what we had between us felt so electric, but it was undeniable. “What are you up to?”
“Just hanging out in my new apartment.” I told him how one of his plumber friends had come by and checked everything out, telling me the second story was good to go. Liam had some specific questions I was unable to answer about what, exactly, in the plumbing had been updated and where, specifically, his friend had discovered severe corrosion in the street-level studio.
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember. As soon as he told me I didn’t need to touch the plumbing in the apartment, all I could think about was moving in.”
“Happy to not live with your mom anymore?”
“Yeah.” I paused, knowing he was well acquainted with my mother. He knew exactly how she operated and what she thought of him. It was a funny thing about family, though. As much as I trashed her in my head, to another person I suddenly felt defensive. She had been through a lot, with her son crippled physically and her other daughter crippled by drugs. “I love her,” I found myself asserting. “It’s just complicated living with her.”
“Of course,” he agreed, not pressing. “I couldn’t love my mom more but it would be tough living under the same roof.” Then he paused. “I’m actually living in the cottage we used to rent out.”
“The one right on the water?” I remembered how pretty it was, with so many windows facing the waves. The main house was set back a ways from the ocean, all the better to weather storms. But the cottage had such romance and charm. “I love that place.”
“I remember showing it to you.”
My mind swirled with memories even as my body thrilled to his voice, like oil and water, messing side by side in a confusing mix. I remembered the day he’d shown the cottage to me, too. Vacant between vacation rentals, that was where I’d lost my virginity. I cleared my throat, filling the silence. “How’s Jax?”
He told me about the house, the bar Jax owned, and the Southern California laid-back vibe of the town where he lived.
“Sounds pretty cool.” Suddenly, I felt worried. What if Liam decided to stay out there with his friend?
“It is. But it’s not for me.”
“No?” Relief flooded through me. Ridiculous, I knew, but there it was all the same.
“I’m too New England,” Liam admitted. “I need to get up every day and work. These people out here chillax all the time. It’s not in my DNA.”
I laughed, struck by our similarity. It wasn’t that I didn’t like down time. I loved hanging out with friends or curling up in cozy sweats to read or watch a fun movie. But too much idle time on my hands made me absolutely crazy. What had I sought immediately after I’d moved back to Naugatuck? An all-consuming project to which I could devote my heart, mind and soul.
“I blame the Pilgrims,” I declared. “All work and no play.”
“Yeah, they put something into the drinking water,” he agreed. “Only I do like to play sometimes.”
My breath caught in my throat. The way he said play, all low and rough. Hot damn I wanted to play with him.
“Are you all ready for bed?” he asked.
“Pretty much.” It was midnight East Coast time so I’d already washed and brushed. “I’m here on my yoga mat bed in my PJs.”
“A yoga mat for a bed?”
“I don’t have a mattress yet.”
“Sophie.” I could almost picture him shaking his head. “Why didn’t you wait until I was home to move in? I could have helped you drive things over in my truck.” But then he added, seeming to remember, “Or, I’m sure you could just pay movers.”
“No, thank you, that’s really nice of you to offer.” I’d love spending time with him in the cab of his truck, just the two of us in such close quarters. I bet I could smell him as I sat there by his side, feel his body heat even if we didn’t touch. “Maybe when you get back. When do you get back?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Oh good.” I couldn’t stop the happiness from flooding my response. I was sure he could hear my wide smile through my voice.
“I have a shift right when I get back. But Thursday I’m all yours.” Uh-oh, that sounded even better. Where the hell was this heading? I needed to be careful with this man. I should get off the phone. But then he continued, “So you’re in your PJs?”
“Yup.” The way he asked, it sounded as if he pictured me in something sexy, silky and lacy. Too bad for him, I explained, “I’m just in a tank top and boxer shorts. Nothing special.”
“You still sleep in a tank top and boxer shorts?” He didn’t sound any less interested. If anything, his voice sounded even huskier.
“In the summer.” Why did I suddenly feel way too hot for even a sheet? I kicked it off, stretching out my legs in the air. I had a window cracked open an inch, no more because I didn’t have any screens. But I loved sleeping with fresh air, especially ocean air on Naugatuck.
“I remember you wearing that when you’d sneak out.”
I exhaled deeply, remembering that too vividly. I’d wait in my bedroom to hear the
sharp, light click of a pebble against my window. He’d text me, too, of course, but there was something old fashioned and exciting about hearing that pebble to let me know he’d parked his truck down the road and walked over to stand beneath my window. Very Romeo and Juliet.
“I can’t believe we never got caught.” I laughed, recalling how many times I’d snuck down the back stairs. The last couple of weeks we’d been together I think I’d snuck out every single night.
“We got lucky,” he agreed. And then he asked, “Do you have on one of those little spaghetti strap tops like you used to wear?”
It just happened to be a barely-there stretchy camisole. I brought my fingers up to the strap, fingering it. “Yes,” I whispered, feeling the conversation take a new, intimate turn.
“What color is it?”
“It’s sort of a pale pink.” I looked down, seeing my stomach rise and fall as my breathing picked up. My nipples had pebbled as well, pushing against the fabric. And he hadn’t even touched me.
“Is it long? Or does it end at your waist?”
“At my waist.” I reached down to the hem, tracing the edge that ended just above my belly button. It was almost as if he were touching me, my skin shivering under his fingers.
“You know one thing I always liked about those boxer shorts?”
“What?”
“They’re so easy to slip off. Why don’t you slide them down your legs for me, Sophie.”
Almost in a trance, I did as he said, slipping them down my legs and kicking them to the side. I ran my hands up my bare skin, wishing it were his palms instead of mine.
“Tell me what you see when you look down.”
“Well…” I felt shy. I hadn’t done this, talking dirty over the phone. If that even was what we were doing. I had no idea, but I didn’t want to think anymore. I just wanted to feel. “I see my legs.”
“Bare?”
“Yes.” I twisted a bit, rubbing my feet and toes together as I began to feel a throbbing deep in my core.