This is the exact moment I realize just how deep my feelings run for Liam. And it frightens the hell out of me.
He looks at me, his lips lifting a touch. “The day I met you on the plane, I was supposed to be meeting him for dinner. He needed more money. He’s living in Boston at the moment. His latest squeeze is there. She’s about your age.” He rolls his eyes.
“I was there on business. He must’ve heard because he called me up the day before, asking me to meet him. Being the sucker I am, I went. I pushed back my flight a day. I waited at the restaurant for him. He didn’t show—unsurprisingly. Then, I got a text as I was leaving the restaurant, saying he couldn’t make it, something had come up, and asking if I could just transfer some money into his account for him. So, I decided to fly home early. Caught the next flight out. And there you were.” His eyes focus on mine, warmth in them.
“There I was.” I smile. “And I’m glad I was.”
I mean that. More than I can say.
Even if having Liam in my life is causing me inner turmoil, I don’t regret a second of the time I’ve spent with him because the thought of never having met him seems inconceivable to me now.
I don’t have forever, but I have this point in time. And that’s what matters. Spending my remaining time with him.
Because he matters to me.
“I’m glad, too,” Liam says, giving me the look that always makes my skin tingle and heat.
Sitting forward, I curl my hands around the edge of the seat. “What happened to your mother’s boyfriend?” I ask softly. I hope he went to prison for a very long time.
Leaning back, Liam looks away and pushes his hands into his pockets. “He hung himself in his prison cell before his trial.”
“Good,” I say, and I mean it.
Without warning, Liam gets up from the bench. “We should go.” Staring down at me, he pulls a hand from his pocket and holds it out to me.
I slip my hand into his and let him pull me to my feet.
He holds my hand all the way back to the car, breaking from me only to get inside. Then, he’s back to holding it again. Holding it like he has to, and I know the feeling because, right now, I need him just as much.
Liam starts the engine. The song playing on the radio is James Blunt’s “Goodbye My Lover.”
Liam pulls away from the university, my hand safely in his.
I touch my free hand to the flower still in my hair. I pull it free and press the peony to my nose, inhaling. It’s sweet but not overpowering.
I put the flower back in my hair and watch the buildings pass by as we leave, and I have this feeling of letting go.
The only problem is…I’m not sure what I’m letting go of.
“You grew up here?” My eyes widen to saucers as I take in the place. “It’s a castle. An actual castle. Is that a moat?”
I squint, trying to see the water around the huge-ass castle in front of me, as Liam drives us down the tree-lined driveway, which is longer than the street I grew up on.
Liam chuckles. “Technically, it’s not a castle. It’s called Hunter Hall. No, that’s not a moat. It’s a lake that encircles the back of the house. It doesn’t come around the front. To be a moat, it has to totally surround the house. And, yes, I lived here for the better part of my life.”
The better part of his life.
That sentence alone makes me want to wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. After learning how his early years were, the feelings I have for him have grown. Knowing how hard he had it in the start of his life to where he is now—where he’s brought his life to be—makes me admire and respect him even more.
And like him more.
It’s not good, I know that, but it is what it is. And, as long as I keep my feelings to myself, which I intend to do, then everything will be fine.
I can’t stop thinking about his life, how he was raised in two completely different ways.
Thank God for his grandpa.
I was already looking forward to meeting him. Admittedly, I feel a little intimidated after discovering that he’s a lord. An actual freaking lord. And he lives in a castle. I don’t care what Liam says. It’s a castle. But after learning everything his grandpa has done for him, I’m more than looking forward to meeting him.
“So, what do I call your grandpa? Lord Hunter or just Lord? Or, like, Your Royal Highness.”
Liam laughs loudly. It’s a really good sound to hear after the intensity of today.
“Boston, Royal Highness is reserved for the monarchy. Kings, princes, that kind of thing.”
“So, he’s not actually royalty? I thought lords were royalty.” Not that I know much about lords or anything to do with the British monarchy—except the Queen is cool, and Prince William and Kate produce the cutest kids ever.
“My grandpa’s title was given to him by the Queen. And he is distantly related to the royal family but way, way down the line. Tenth cousin once removed or something.”
“But he’s actually related to the Queen?”
“Technically, yes.”
“That means you’re related to the Queen.”
He chuckles. “Well, no…”
“Um…your grandpa is your blood relative, and he’s related to the Queen—I don’t care how many times removed.” I stop him when his mouth opens to speak. “So, that means you’re related to the Queen.”
“I guess, if you look at it that way, then, yeah, technically…but not really.”
“Oh my God!” I cover my face with my hands. “I’ve been having sex with royalty!”