Chapter 4

FOUR

Izzy

“You’re late!” Alisa says as I approach.

I step around an enormous potted palm draped with tiny twinkle lights and slide up to the bar beside her. Green and red garland is tacked up along the edge, and the bartender is wearing a Santa hat. Overhead, there’s mistletoe hanging at least every fifteen feet.

“I know,” I say as I reach for her drink and take a quick sip. “And I’ll explain. But right now, I need you to promise me something.” I glance toward the door. Liam dropped me off out front and went to look for street parking, so I should have a minute. But I still don’t want to risk wasting time.

“Anything, sweetie. Are you okay?” Alisa asks, petting my hair.

Normally, her casual affection doesn’t bother me, but right now, every nerve ending is like a tripwire, sending panicked signals to my brain. I take a step back.

“I’m good. But…” I hesitate, biting my lip. “Liam is here.”

Her brows shoot up in surprise, then she cranes her neck to glance around the bar. “ Your Liam? Your cousin crush?”

I grip her arm to pull her attention back to me. “He is not my Liam or my cousin or my crush. Strike all of those words from your vocabulary before he gets in here.”

“Fine. But I still don’t understand. Like, he just showed up? I thought he lived in New York.”

“He does. Or he did. He just moved back.”

Her eyebrows lift. “A weird coincidence, considering you just told me about him this week.”

“The world is full of strange coincidences. I probably conjured him into existence by talking about him,” I mutter, glancing toward the door as it opens. Not Liam. “Anyway. He showed up at work today—he’s doing a software thing with my company—and one thing led to another, and now he’s here with me. I’ll tell you the whole story when we have more time. But for right now, please just act like you’ve never heard his name, okay?”

“Okay. Got it.” She takes a sip of her cocktail, grinning slyly around her glass. “That explains the dress you’re wearing, at least.”

I look down at the white silk I changed into when Liam followed me back to my place. It’s one of my favorites, fun and flirty and a little sexy without being too much for weeknight karaoke. “What’s wrong with my dress?”

“Nothing. You look amazing. But tell me honestly. Would you have changed out of your work clothes for Chuck?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” I say.

“You know I’m making you meet me for coffee in the morning so you can tell me everything, right? And I mean everything.”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Her eyes drift over my shoulder. “Oh wow. Is that him?”

I turn and see Liam standing by the door, shrugging out of his suit coat. He looks around the bar, smiling when he meets my gaze.

“Girl,” Alisa says under her breath. “Your cousin is really hot.”

“He’s not my?—”

I can’t finish my sentence because Liam reaches us, looking adorably sheepish, hands pushed into his pockets. He lifts one, adjusting his glasses, a nervous tell I remember from childhood. There was a period of time when he was in college that he wore contacts, and I really missed the glasses.

“Hey,” he says, glancing between us. “You must be Alisa? I’m Liam. Thanks for letting me crash the party.”

She extends her hand. “A friend of Izzy’s is a friend of mine. Now tell me. Tenor or bass?”

Liam looks at me, his mouth lifting up on one side. “Probably tenor? But a bad one. I’ll happily just watch and listen tonight.” He nudges me. “Izzy’s the singer.”

“Is she now?”

Alisa looks at me like she’s learning something new. Because she is. I sang a lot more when I was in high school and college, and I’ve always loved it, but there haven’t been as many opportunities to sing in my very boring corporate life. I’m still fighting for chances to talk at work. Singing is nowhere on my radar.

“She fought me so hard on coming to karaoke, I assumed she was tone deaf,” Alisa says.

“If you’ve never heard Izzy sing, you’re in for a treat.”

I lift my hands to my cheeks. “Stop it. It’s been forever since I’ve sung anything, especially in front of people. And I only promised to come tonight to watch. I’m not going to sing.”

“Oh, whatever,” Alisa says. “One cocktail in you, and you’ll be totally ready to go.” She tilts her head toward the bar. “I already opened a tab on Derek’s dime. Get whatever you want. I’ll go add us to the list.”

She’s gone before I can stop her. Honestly, singing right now might be kind of a release. It’s always been something that calms me, even if my ideal choice wouldn’t be Christmas songs.

As soon as Alisa leaves, music starts up at the other end of the bar, and a cheer moves through the crowd. Liam moves into the place she occupied, which puts him closer. It’s probably just an attempt to be heard over the music, but my body still angles toward him, like it’s a reflex, like it needs to be close to him as much as it needs breathing.

Still, I resist, stiffening slightly.

When is my body going to get the memo that Liam doesn’t—and can’t—belong to me?

“She seems nice,” Liam says, his mouth way too close to my ear. “But I’d love to be the one to buy your drink, Iz.”

His words send a warm shiver through me, making my fingertips tingle. He leans back enough to hold my gaze, and for the first time all day, I start to wonder a few things.

Liam is a good man. Raised by a mom and stepdad who taught him how to treat women.

But he’s standing really close to me. Offering to buy me a drink. While he—so far as I know—has a girlfriend he liked enough to introduce her to his family.

All day, I’ve been dismissing his familiarity, his teasing, and how comfortable he is with physical closeness because we grew up together. We know each other so well—it’s easy to slide back into old habits and routines.

But if he were really days away from proposing to Natasha, would he be looking at me like this?

An uneasy feeling settles in my gut.

Is Liam not the guy I thought he was? Or maybe … is it possible he and Natasha aren’t together anymore?

A dozen questions rest on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to ask a single one. The sudden hope coursing through my veins feels like a drug, and I don’t want to give it up.

It’s all I can do not to run to the bathroom and call my Aunt Eloise—the one with all the best gossip—right this minute to demand answers. If not for my conversation with Merritt this morning, I might not believe the family could have kept breakup news from me. But clearly, a pinky promise is no laughing matter. It wouldn’t surprise me if Merritt held her sisters to the same commitment.

“Wow,” Liam says. “You’re giving a lot of serious thought to letting me buy you a drink.”

I force a smile I hope looks natural and shake my head. “Sorry. Got distracted by this terrible version of ‘Last Christmas.’” I nod toward the stage, and Liam grins. “Don’t fight Alisa on this,” I say. “It’s her love language, and Derek loves to spoil her. Plus, he works in finance. He can definitely cover our drinks tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Liam says. “What would you like? I’ll at least order for us.”

I stick with wine because I need to keep my wits about me. One margarita and I told Alisa about Liam. Tonight, I need to hang on to every shred of my self-control.

Liam places our order with the bartender, and we chat for a few minutes while we wait for our drinks. As soon as we have them in hand, we make our way toward Alisa and the rest of the group. Liam keeps his free hand pressed against my lower back, steering me through the crowd, leaving what feels like a brand on my skin.

I still remember the first time Liam’s touch impacted me this way. I was nineteen, one year of college behind me, and the whole family was out on Oakley for a beach day. Liam was playing with the little kids, chasing them up and down the sand, letting them climb all over him. I was stretched out on a blanket reading a book. Only … I couldn’t focus on more than a word or two before my eyes were drawn back to him.

Eventually, the kids moved down to the water to jump over the waves, and Liam came and dropped onto the blanket next to me. “You’re getting crispy, Iz,” he said.

I tilted my head and looked up at him. “Am I? I put sunscreen on.”

He shrugged easily. “Maybe you missed a few spots? Your back looks really red.”

I sighed and sat up, trading my book for the sunscreen tucked into my bag. “Okay. I’ll go get Merritt to help.”

“Here, I’ll just do it,” Liam said, holding out his hand.

And so I let him. Holding my breath while he rubbed sunscreen onto my back and shoulders, sliding his hands over my skin like it was no big deal.

It wasn’t, really.

But every brush of his fingers lit me up from the inside out. It was a good thing I already had a sunburn to disguise the lobster red of my blush.

The thing is, he’d probably put sunscreen on me a thousand times before, with all the times we were at the beach together. But I’d never registered his touch like I did then. Like I have every time he’s touched me since.

Alisa waves from the middle of a crowded table. I’m less nervous than I should be to join a group of mostly strangers. Despite the current civil war situation happening inside my heart, one side for Liam feelings, one side against, his presence makes me feel safe. It always has.

As we sit, I lean a little closer. “I don’t know half of these people. That’s Alisa’s boyfriend, Derek.” I point to the guy in a seersucker suit and bow tie smiling shyly at us across the table. He’s Alisa’s polar opposite and somehow exactly perfect for her.

“Nice suit,” Liam says to me. “Not many guys can pull off seersucker. Especially in winter.”

“I know, right?” My eyes drift to the clean-cut blond guy next to him. The one looking at me with sad puppy dog eyes. “That’s, um, Chuck.”

“Umchuck?” Liam asks. “Is that his full name or a nickname? Is there a hyphen, or is it just one word?”

I can’t help it. I cackle. Which draws nearly every eye at the table to us. I cover my mouth with my hand, cheeks flushing. But this reminds Alisa to do introductions, which allows me to take a sip of wine.

Chuck’s shoulders continue to droop while Alisa is talking. I feel slightly bad since he’s clearly misreading the situation, but also, this might get me out of having to let him down easy. We’ve only had drinks one time, but he’s texted me several times since then. If the number of times Chuck has frowned at Liam is any indication, he definitely came here with expectations.

Alisa finally makes it around the table, and I immediately forget everyone’s names because Liam has his arm slung casually over the back of my chair.

If I leaned back, would he move his hand away? Or would he maybe brush my neck with his fingers? I’m frozen, angled slightly forward in my chair. Torn between relaxing into his arm and keeping my distance.

This is going to be a long night.

It’s like someone backed up a truck and dumped all the self-consciousness of my middle school self right into my lap. Now, I’m a weird blend of confident Izzy and stressed and overthinking Izzy, hung up on every word and every movement.

Alisa claps her hands. “That’s you, Izzy!”

Apparently, I zoned out and missed something. “What’s me?”

“This next song. It’s you … and Liam.” She grins mischievously and points to the stage. “Get up there, you two!”

I’m already shaking my head. “Liam already said he doesn’t want to sing.”

Chuck stands suddenly, pressing a hand over his heart with far too much sincerity, like he’s volunteering as tribute and not just as a partner for karaoke. “I’ll sing with you, Izzy.”

As soon as the words are out of Chuck’s mouth, Liam shoots to his feet, holding out a hand. “That’s okay. I’ll do it.”

“She said you didn’t want to sing,” Chuck says with a frown, and suddenly, I feel like I’m in the middle of a weird adult game of tug of war where I’m the rope. Meanwhile, patrons are starting to get antsy as the emcee for the night calls our names again and then one more time.

Liam’s eyes meet mine. “I’m happy to humiliate myself for Izzy.”

It’s no declaration of love, but I’ll take it. Sliding my palm into his, I get to my feet, then give Alisa a look. “Fine. But this is it. No more secretly signing me or Liam up for more songs.”

She holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Promise.”

As we make our way up to the stage, I start to pull my hand from Liam’s, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans closer.

“You’re going to really have to hold my hand through this,” he says playfully, giving my fingers a squeeze. “I’m pretty bad.”

“I’m sure you’re not as bad as you think,” I tell him.

But I was wrong. It takes one line of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” for me to realize he is so much worse than I could have imagined. Pretty bad is a level Liam can only aspire to.

Still—he goes all in, singing his part with dramatic flair, a charming smile, and completely horrible pitch. It’s hard to sing my parts because I can’t stop giggling, and I’m shocked by the bar’s enthusiastic response. There are hoots and cheers, and a few people bang on tables when Liam hits a particularly bad note with gusto. A row of guys at a table in the back who clearly came prepared hold up hand-drawn signs with tens on them.

I laugh into the mic, flubbing my line, which Liam completes for me in a terrible falsetto, throwing a wink my way. Someone wolf whistles, and Liam throws one arm around me while he sweeps the other out to the side.

I don’t even think about how close we’re standing until the song is over, and we’re clasping hands and taking a bow to wild applause. We’ve brought the house down, and I can’t remember the last time my face hurt so much from smiling.

When Liam turns to me, grinning, my gaze falls to his mouth. Just for a moment, but long enough that his smile drops, and when I look at him, he’s the one looking at my mouth.

Natasha , I think. Natasha Natasha Natasha!

Her name rings like an alarm bell in my mind, and before I know it, I’ve practically thrown my mic at the next person and am bolting toward what I hope is the bathroom.

Only it’s not. I chose the wrong side of the bar, and the little hallway I thought might lead to the ladies room is actually one of the kitchen entrances. Which means Liam catches me before I can get out of the cramped hallway. A server comes out with a tray of bar food and gives us both a dirty look. Liam steps even closer to let them pass, and now there is absolutely no oxygen in this space.

“Izzy?” His brow is furrowed, concern etching his features. “What is it?”

When I don’t answer, he tries again. With a crooked smile, he asks, “Was my singing that bad?”

I laugh, but it comes out almost like a sob. “Your singing was endearingly awful,” I tell him, fighting the wobble in my lip.

Liam reaches out, his fingertips grazing my cheek. “Then what is it? You know you can talk to me. You always can.”

I want to lean into his touch, but Natasha’s name is still pulsing through me.

“You have a girlfriend,” I say, stumbling a little over the last word. “You’re here, and you’re looking at me, but … I can’t stop thinking about her. Wondering if she would care if she’d seen us singing together.”

He rears back, a crease forming right between his eyebrows. But then his expression clears, his gaze warm as he says, “Izzy, I broke up with her. Right after Christmas last year.”