Chapter 9

NINE

Izzy

The next day flies by in a glittery cloud of holiday cheer. But like, if glitter wasn’t annoying and holiday cheer is code for making out like teenagers.

We spend Saturday night and all day Sunday kissing in every room—and on most surfaces—in Liam’s apartment. If this were a scored competition, we’d get high marks for creativity and also stamina.

The only location we’ve avoided is Liam’s bed, something we haven’t explicitly talked about but seems to be a priority we both share. Despite knowing each other as well as we do, or maybe because of it, I don’t want to push things too far too fast. What’s the rush?

And with the way Liam kisses, I’m happy to just linger here in the kissing zone. Knowing his personality, he probably studied the physics and mechanics of making out. Though maybe it’s just him . Or—us? I’ve wanted this for so long, and we have so much connection that it really might just be shared history and friendship and trust deepening the emotional connection.

When we come up for air, we’re plotting.

Because there is no way we are letting our family get away with this. Not without serving a little side of comeuppance with Christmas Eve dinner.

After much discussion, we came to the conclusion that they were all in on it. Or at least most of them. They had to be. Sadie might have been the mastermind of this specific part, which is very on brand for her, and Ben might have funded the fumigation tent, but they weren’t acting alone.

Our biggest piece of evidence? The fact that our family stopped talking to each of us about the other.

“It’s so dumb, and I can’t believe we didn’t see it,” I tell Liam, twirling pad thai noodles on my fork.

I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, eating off his coffee table, while he’s sprawled out on the couch, having scarfed down his yellow curry about two seconds after the delivery woman put it in his hand. I’m eating slowly because even though the “fumigation” is done, and I really should get home to my place before work tomorrow morning, I don’t really want to leave.

The idea of being in my empty apartment after spending the last few days with Liam feels so sad.

So I’m making a very valiant effort at a pad thai filibuster.

“It’s total reverse psychology,” Liam agrees, lifting his shirt a little to scratch his stomach. I eye the sliver of skin with interest until he tugs his shirt back down. “I think their goal must have been to say nothing and see if that worked since saying a lot of things didn’t.”

“But in this case, I wish they had told me you and Natasha broke up. I’ve spent the last year trying in vain to get over you.”

Liam sits up suddenly. “Really?”

Oops . I guess we haven’t gotten into the specifics of how long these feelings we’re no longer ignoring have been around. Now I feel silly. Because it’s embarrassing to admit how long I’ve liked Liam. If like is even a strong enough word. Especially if this only just started for him .

I can’t really dial it back now though. Might as well go all in. “Yep. It didn’t work. Clearly.”

Liam is blinking at me, and his hand comes up to touch his glasses. “But if you spent the year trying to get over me, does that mean you liked me before this year?”

“Come on, Liam.” I roll my eyes and smile, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. “The family’s favorite thing to do was tease me about my crush on you. For years.”

“Yeah, but they stopped. And also, I wasn’t sure how seriously to take it. Our family isn’t mean. Meddling. Overstepping. Clearly willing to obliterate any sense of privacy and autonomy, yes. But not mean . I guess I didn’t think they would have given you a hard time if you had real feelings and not just a teenage crush.”

“Maybe that’s why they stopped teasing me,” I say.

It takes him a moment to realize what I mean. When he does, his expression softens. “So … when I brought Natasha home, you …?”

I bite my lip. “Yeah, that was pretty painful.”

He drops back onto the couch, an arm tossed over his head for a long moment before he turns to face me and says, “I would have hated that if the roles had been reversed. Is that why you spent so much time with the littles down at the beach?”

“Volunteering as babysitting tribute meant not having to see you together as much.”

“But you were dating someone at the time too, right? Graham? Or … Grady? You talked about him a lot.”

I set down my fork and clear my throat. “Because I needed to talk about something, and Merritt kept giving me these pitying looks. But Grady and I were never serious.” I put down my dinner and lift my hands to cover my cheeks. “Ugh, can we talk about something else, please? This is awful and embarrassing.”

Liam is off the couch and knee walking to me across the carpet in seconds. As soon as he reaches me, he pulls me against his chest, kissing the top of my head.

“Please don’t be embarrassed. I’m having a hard time knowing exactly what to say because, on the one hand, my ego is thrilled with this information.” I snort, and he continues, stroking my hair. “But I’m also flattered and humbled and really, really glad you couldn’t get over me. I mean, not that I understand why, but?—”

“Liam.” My voice is muffled in his shirt.

“Sorry. But I do mean what I said. And I want you to know—the moment I saw you and Natasha in the same room, that’s when I realized.”

I lean back a little until I can see his hazel eyes. They’re dark now, a roasted caramel with golden flecks. “Realized what?”

He slides his hands around until he’s cupping my cheeks. He swallows, and it looks like he’s having a hard time forming words.

“I know it’s not the same, but that week was hard for me too. I couldn’t break up with Natasha right then and there, but I knew it was over. All I wanted was to spend time with you, to be with you. That’s when I knew what I hadn’t let myself realize all along—you’re it for me, Iz. When I went back to New York, all I could think about was moving home, and it was excellent motivation. Make Change launched six months earlier than expected. I credit that to you.”

Leaning forward, Liam kisses me so tenderly that I’m basically a puddle by the time he pulls away.

“You’re it for me too,” I tell him. “And it’s going to make our family so stinking happy. They’re going to try and take credit for this, you know. Those stinkers.”

“I know. But it’s okay.” Liam’s grin is wicked. “Because we’re going to make them suffer a little first.”

Liam

I thought it might be hard to work alongside Izzy after spending so many hours with our arms around each other and our mouths fused together. But we are both total professionals come Monday morning.

Even if, in my head, I’m remembering what it was like to kiss her while she sat on the desk in my home office.

Integrating Make Change into the Whitmire Group is so much easier with Izzy’s help, and by the middle of our workday on Thursday, I’m wishing I could take her with me so she can fill this role every time. Though I’m no longer the awkward kid I was, Izzy’s ability to people far surpasses mine. I let her take over the training for the accounting staff, and it’s like she was born to do this. So far, there have only been one or two questions she hasn’t been able to answer on her own.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” We’re standing in the stairwell where we first reconnected, cramming a day’s worth of kisses into our forty-five-minute lunch break. “Watching you explain how my software works is hot .”

She giggles, but I’m not even kidding.

At the end of the day, when I’m packing up the conference room for the last time, shaking her boss’s hand, I can’t shake the feeling that I should take her with me. Especially when I see her putting things back in her cubicle, where the nosy co-worker she mentioned is already watching again.

Then her boss goes and says, “I’m glad Isabel did an okay job. She’s probably not the one I would have picked as a little helper, but at least she didn’t screw anything up.”

His laugh is patronizing, and I have a sudden horrible vision of Izzy spending the next ten years working in a cubicle with this guy mansplaining things and never giving her a chance to rise. It’s a timely reminder that while nonprofits do a lot of good, that doesn’t mean they’re different than any other business in having both good and bad people work there.

“Izzy is brilliant and did an amazing job. I might have needed another few days or even a week to finish training if it hadn’t been for her. I think you’re underutilizing her if she’s not involved in staff training and development. You know she has her master’s degree, right?”

It’s all true, though maybe over the top. Especially since her boss basically waves off everything I said.

I swear, it’s the only bad part of the entire week, knowing this is Izzy’s job, and she’ll have to return here after Christmas. Return to a boss who doesn’t see her potential and a cubicle-mate who seems to be spying on her every move. I do not feel good about this for her.

“Are you okay?” she asks as we’re finally leaving the city and driving across the bridge to Oakley. “Nervous about our little plan?”

I have no nerves about our plan, which is all in good fun if it works, and no big deal if it doesn’t. Ultimately, our family is going to lose their minds over Izzy and me getting together, and if we can have a little fun with them to pay them back for what they did, then great.

I’m still thinking about her miserable job. And I need to stop.

“I’m good. Sorry. Just thinking about … work.”

Izzy gives me a playful shove. “No more work. It’s Christmas! Let’s just agree to not think about the magical week we worked together and focus on revenge. And,” she says, leaning across the console to kiss my cheek, “about all the places on Oakley Island we need to christen with kisses.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

But even as we shift the conversation to lighter things, my brain keeps humming in the background, mulling over Izzy’s work situation.

Finally, as we’re pulling into the driveway of the inn that used to belong to Eloise, Merritt, and Sadie’s grandmother, I’ve come up with a workable solution. At least, I hope I have. I just need to talk to Uncle Benedict first.