Chapter 13 THE uninvited guest
The gravel crunching under Liam’s tires as we pulled up to my parents’ house felt like the ticking of a clock I couldn't stop. The air inside the car was thick with his newfound optimism, a stark contrast to the hollow exhaustion settling into my bones. Liam turned off the engine, a triumphant smile still etched on his face from our talk with the Pastor.
"I feel so much better, El," he said, reaching over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "I think we really needed that. A little spiritual reset, you know?"
Before I could muster a response that wasn't a lie, he leaned in and kissed me. It was a long, lingering kiss that tasted of mint and desperation. I closed my eyes, trying to force myself to feel the spark that used to ignite whenever he touched me, but all I felt was the suffocating weight of his expectations.
"I'll see you later tonight?" he asked as he pulled back, his hand resting on the door handle.
"Yeah, later," I whispered, reaching for my bag.
But as I opened the car door, my mother appeared on the front porch, waving a tea towel like a flag of surrender. "Liam! Don't you dare drive off yet! I’ve made enough roast and rolls to feed the entire parish. Come in and have lunch with us!"
My heart plummeted. My stomach twisted with a sharp, cold knot of irritation. I was tired. I was emotionally drained from the morning’s performance, and all I wanted was to crawl into my room, take off this Sunday dress, and stare at the ticket Victor had sent me. I was tired of playing the role of the perfect girlfriend in the perfect neighborhood.
"Oh, Mrs. M! I wouldn't want to impose," Liam said, though I could hear the eagerness in his voice. He looked at me, his eyes asking for permission he had already assumed was there.
"Don't be silly, you're practically family!" my mother insisted.
"Come on in, Liam," I said, forcing a smile that felt like it was cracking my face. "The more the merrier."
The dining room was bathed in the warm, hazy light of a Sunday afternoon. The table was a masterpiece of domestic comfort: the golden-brown roast, the steam rising from the mashed potatoes, and the bowl of gravy I had carefully stirred that morning. My father was already seated at the head of the table, carving the meat with the precision of a surgeon.
"Sit down, sit down," Dad said, gesturing to the chair next to mine. "Liam, I hear the garage is doing well. I saw that classic Mustang out front the other day—did you have a hand in that?"
"I did, sir," Liam beamed, pulling out my chair for me before sitting down. "Total engine rebuild. It’s a beauty."
Maya entered, carrying Leo on her hip. She caught my eye over the rim of her water glass, her eyebrows shooting up in a silent question: Why is he still here? I gave a tiny, imperceptible shrug.
"So, Elena," Maya said, her voice dripping with mischief as she sat across from us. "How was the 'counseling' session? Did the Pastor give you the secret to eternal patience, or do you still need me to talk some sense into you?"
"Maya, hush," my mother scolded gently, passing a plate of rolls. "It’s wonderful that they’re seeking guidance. Every young couple goes through a rocky patch."
"It wasn't that rocky," Liam added, reaching under the table to squeeze my hand. I squeezed back, though it felt like a reflex rather than an emotion. "Just some growing pains. We’re getting back on track."
"That’s good to hear," my father said, pointing his fork at me. "Because we have a lot to celebrate. Elena, tell Liam what next week is."
I froze with a forkful of carrots halfway to my mouth. "It’s... it’s my birthday."
"Exactly!" my mother cried, clapping her hands. "Wednesday. Our little girl is turning twenty-three. We’ve decided, since the bakery is closed and you’re working so hard at the mansion, we’re going to do a mini-brunch here on Wednesday morning before your shift."
"You have to come, Liam," my father added. "I’m making my famous blueberry pancakes. And I think there might be a certain box from the jewelry store hidden in the hall closet, isn't there, Martha?"
My mother giggled, and Liam’s face turned a deep shade of crimson. The air in the room suddenly felt very thin. Wednesday. My birthday. The day I was supposed to see Julian for our regular shift. The day I was already secretly planning to wear something special just for him.
"I’ll be there," Liam said, his voice thick with emotion. He looked at me, his eyes shining with a terrifying level of commitment. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. I’ve actually been looking at something special myself."
"Oh, how sweet!" my mother gushed.
The rest of the meal was a blur of laughter and jokes that I didn't find funny. I sat there like a statue, nodding when I needed to, smiling when the silence grew too long. I felt like I was being buried alive under a mountain of blueberry pancakes and "practically family" comments.
When lunch finally ended, I helped Maya clear the table, desperate for a moment of escape. We moved into the kitchen, the clatter of plates providing a much-needed shield.
"A birthday brunch?" Maya whispered, scraping a plate into the bin. "And Dad mentioned a jewelry box? El, he’s going to propose. Or at least Liam is thinking about it. You’re in deep water now."
"I can't do this, Maya," I hissed, leaning against the sink. "I can't have a brunch and a proposal and then go work for a man who makes me feel like I’m actually alive for the first time in years. It’s too much."
"Then you have to tell them," Maya said, her voice uncharacteristically firm. "You can't let him get down on one knee in front of Mom and Dad if you're just going to say 'I need to check my schedule at the Blackwood estate.'"
"I know," I groaned, closing my eyes.
I looked out the kitchen window toward the street. In my mind, I didn't see Liam’s practical sedan. I saw a sleek black SUV. I didn't see the white lilies on the dining table; I saw a red dress and a man who looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
The Sunday meal was over, but the hunger in my heart was only growing. I was a girl caught between two homes, two men, and a birthday that felt less like a celebration and more like a deadline.