Page 136 of Trouble from Abroad
“Oh my God. It makes so much sense. You’re… lighter. She’s rubbed off on you,” April adds.
The corner of my mouth lifts before I can stop it. “That’s Mia, all right. And I’m completely, irreversibly in love with her.”
“I knew it.” Calista pumps a fist in the air.
“And I’ve made it abundantly clear that I don’t want her to leave at the end of her three-month visa.” I keep my expression calm, even as my pulse climbs. “Mia is… overwhelmed with the knowledge. So I’m giving her time to process everything. To make her decision.”
April rolls her lips, suppressing a smile. “Oh my God, that must be killing you, Mr. I-Got-It-All-Under-Control.”
I lick my teeth and nod. “I don’t think my lungs will work at their full capacity until she gives me an answer.”
Liam pulls April to him, settling his chin on the crook of her neck. “I’m so glad we’re past this phase.” Facing me, he adds, “But if you need to stop her plane, call me.” He grunts when April elbows him in the ribs.
For a rare moment, the room goes quiet. Just the four of us and the faint smell of frosting in the air.
For years, I tried to do everything alone. But tonight, surrounded by the people who refused to give up on me—I finally stop pretending I need to.
And maybe that’s why it feels different this time. I’ve got four cheerleaders on my side, and somehow, that makes the waiting a little easier. And the hope a hell of a lot louder.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
mia
Someone’s tryingto cut short the best night’s sleep of my life, but my body’s not having it. I burrow deeper, snuggling into the world’s warmest pillow. It smells faintly of sugar and shampoo, and it lulls me back asleep. Pure bliss.
The annoying noises become more persistent and so does the itching on my neck. The sound is now intelligible and decipherable. A low, teasing voice. A hand brushing my skin.
“If you don’t get up now, I’m joining in.”
God, that voice. I’d recognize it in my deepest dreams. And apparently, that’s exactly where I am—cozy, in the dark, and clinging to something alive. My eyelids fight their weight. I crack one open and blink at reality.
The pillow I’ve been drooling on is Lily. I fell asleep in her bed again, curled around her, holding too tight to someone I’m supposed to let go.
I don’t miss the smile and temptation in his voice. Notgoing to lie, I’m tempted too. But that’s been my state for weeks now.
Tempted to admit to my feelings and how fast they’ve escalated. Tempted to admit what I dream about, both asleep and awake. To admit the fears that make me cry when I’m alone in this house.
So I do what I’ve been doing. I deflect.
Getting untangled from Lily, I turn to Preston before I get up. He’s crouched behind us, grinning like this is his favorite view in the world.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he murmurs, brushing hair off my face, “but I took a picture before waking you.”
“Can I see it?”
“Now or after I print it and hang it on the wall?”
“Now. And print two copies, please.”
He shows me, and damn it—it’s perfect. The nightlight’s soft glow, my arms locked around her so tight it’s a miracle she’s breathing. And smiling.
That’s when it hits me: this might be all I ever get.
A picture won’t be enough. I need this burned into the inside of my eyelids. Who am I kidding? I need this to be my routine.
But someday soon, this may not be a part of my life. I’ll wake up in London with no little girl pressed against me, no man stealing kisses in empty rooms, no sound of laughter down the hall.
And it’ll wreck me.
