Chapter 66 Staying
AVA
I had no idea where Liam was taking me. All I knew was that after completely leaving me limbless last night, he had woken me up this morning with lazy kisses down my spine, gotten me dressed, and practically carried me out of the lodge.
And now, we were in the car, heading toward God knows where, while he kept stealing glances at me like he had a damn secret.
Not subtle glances either. The kind where the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding in a laugh. Like he was ten seconds away from dropping a bomb and enjoying every second of my suffering.
"Liam," I said, dragging out his name. "Where are we going?"
"You’ll see," he murmured, eyes locked on the road.
I narrowed my gaze. He was being suspicious. Was it a fancy lunch? Another surprise date? Something incredibly romantic and unnecessarily sexy? Because he did that sometimes. Just to watch me fall apart in his hands.
I wouldn’t put it past him.
My mind spiraled through possibilities. A lakeside picnic. A private skating rink. Some stupidly extravagant thing that would make me emotional and needy and wrapped around his finger. He loved that. Loved knowing he could undo me with the smallest effort.
But when he finally pulled into a quiet neighborhood…not a restaurant, not a date spot, but a damn neighborhood…my stomach dropped.
The houses were tidy. Suburban. Lawns trimmed with terrifying precision. Wind chimes tinkled softly in the breeze like the soundtrack to my impending doom.
Oh, God. I was being kidnapped by my boyfriend!
"Liam." I turned to him, eyes wide.
"Yeah?" He didn’t look at me. Just killed the engine and smirked.
That smirk. That smug, sinful smirk. The one that usually meant I was about to end up breathless.
"Are you kidnapping me?” I inhaled sharply, heart hammering against my ribs.
“I did that already when I brought you for a weekend getaway” he laughed at my remarks, shaking his head in disbelief. I mean, could you blame me?
His laugh filled the car, warm and easy, like this was all just a game. Meanwhile I was internally drafting my will.
“Fair point. So…what are we…?”
"Meeting my mom?" He finally looked at me, his expression far too calm for what he had just said. "Yeah."
Oh. Oh. I had not been prepared for this.
Everything inside me short-circuited. The air left my lungs. My brain rebooted and immediately crashed again.
I wasn’t mentally prepared. I wasn’t emotionally prepared. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I was physically prepared. I was still recovering from last night, still sore in places I didn’t even know could be sore. And now, I was about to meet his mother? OH lord! What if she finds out I’ve been letting his son tear my pussy? Or she notices that it happened just last night? I would kill myself!
My thighs pressed together instinctively at the memory and that only made it worse. Because now I was blushing. In broad daylight. In front of the house where his mother lived.
"Liam, what the hell? I’m not ready! I mean I am, but I’m not! I didn’t dress nicely" I began to ramble
I looked down at myself like maybe I’d somehow show up in pajama shorts and a confession written across my forehead.
"You’ll be fine." He leaned over, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips, as if he could just kiss the panic out of me. "She’s gonna love you."
His hand cupped my jaw gently, thumb brushing my cheek, grounding me. It would have worked if he hadn’t just casually detonated my nervous system.
"And what if she doesn’t?" I swallowed hard, my hands gripping my thighs.
Images flashed through my head. Disapproval. Judgment. The dreaded tight smile.
"Then I’ll just have to keep you anyway." His smirk widened.
I stared at him. Completely floored. The bastard. The smug, arrogant, infuriating bastard.
He said it like it was simple. Like there was no world where I wasn’t already his choice.
I wanted to smack him, kiss him, run. But instead, I let out a slow breath and nodded.
"Okay. Let’s do this."
If I was going to meet the woman who raised this menace, I was at least going to pretend I had composure.
His smirk softened into something warmer, something real. "That’s my girl."
The way he said it made my stomach flip. Not possessive in a suffocating way. Just sure. Steady.
And before I could even think about escaping, he was out of the car, opening my door, and leading me up the front steps of the house.
Each step felt louder than the last. My heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of our footsteps.
Oh, God. I was about to meet Mrs. Freaking Carter.
The moment the door opened, I felt like I had stepped into another universe, because standing in front of me wasn’t some scary, intimidating woman. It was a literal goddess.
Liam’s mom was stunning. Like, unfairly stunning. Long, dark hair, sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes, a body that could make a grown man cry. She looked nothing like a "mom." She looked like someone who should be walking down a Paris runway.
I suddenly understood Liam’s face. Genetics had been generous. Almost criminally so.
And then, she smiled.
"Ava," she said, her voice soft, but knowing. "I’ve heard so much about you."
My entire body locked up. She had heard what, exactly? What exactly had Liam told her?
Did she know about the weekend? The lodge? The way her son lost all self-control when it came to me?
I turned to glare at him, but he just smirked and kissed the side of my head like he hadn’t just thrown me into the depths of hell.
"Mom, don’t scare her," he said, guiding me inside.
"I’m not scared!" I blurted out, completely lying through my teeth.
My voice cracked slightly. Betrayal. Absolute betrayal.
"Of course, you’re not." Mrs. Carter just smiled, shutting the door behind us.
Oh, God. She knew. I was so screwed, but somehow, somehow, I survived.
The house was warm. Inviting. It smelled like vanilla and something freshly baked. Family photos lined the walls. Little versions of Liam stared back at me from framed memories.
And surprisingly? She was amazing, she wasn’t just beautiful, she was smart, witty, sharp as hell and my favorite part, she loved giving Liam shit. Which of course, I thoroughly enjoyed.
"Did you know Liam used to be scared of thunderstorms?" she said, setting down a plate of pastries in front of us.
The pastries looked homemade. Golden. Perfect. I didn’t trust how calm this felt.
"Mom." Liam groaned.
His ears were slightly red. Which only made this better.
"No. But I’d love to hear more." I blinked, grinning.
Liam shot me a deadly glare, but his mother just smirked, leaning back in her chair.
"Oh, it was adorable," she said. "He’d crawl into my bed every time it rained. He was terrified the sky was falling."
I turned to look at him, and he looked ready to die.
His jaw was tight. His eyes narrowed at me in warning.
"That’s cute," I teased, nudging his knee under the table.
"It’s humiliating," he grumbled.
"He’s always been a little dramatic." She laughed, sipping her tea.
I nearly choked trying not to laugh too loudly.
"Oh, trust me. I know." I smirked.
His knee nudged back into mine under the table, subtle and warm. A silent conversation.
And just like that, I knew she liked me.
Because she was looking at me like I was the best thing to ever happen to her son.
Not evaluating. Not measuring. Just… relieved. Happy.
Like she had been waiting for someone who could keep up with him.
Like she could see the way he looked at me and understood what it meant.
Like she knew, without a doubt, that I was staying.
And when Liam reached over, lacing his fingers through mine, I realized he knew it, too.
His thumb brushed over my knuckles slowly, reassuringly.
I wasn’t going anywhere.