CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Liam

 

Judging by the fact that Justin didn’t seem to give a fuck about the rather large knife in my hand as he stormed across the kitchen and grabbed me by the collar, I had to assume he was in a blind rage.

“Did you sleep with my sister?” he roared.

Adam and Toni discreetly disappeared. It had been two weeks since that horrible morning at Maggie’s house.

“No,” I said, standing stock still.

“But you fucking touched her. I told you not to touch her.”

I pried his hand off my collar and took a step back. I was easily twice his strength.

“It’s not what you think. Besides, she’s a grown woman. She makes her own decisions.”

Justin ran his hands through his hair and paced the kitchen floor.

“I want to fucking kill you, man,” he said.

“I get it. I’m not too pleased with myself either.”

“I spent two weeks trying to cool my jets, and then I get an email from my folks asking how Maggie’s wonderful boyfriend is. She’s my goddamn sister.”

I put the knife down on the counter and sat down on the stool. Justin stopped pacing, picked up another stool, and brought it over to join me.

“What the fuck happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I just wanted to do what you said, and things got a little out of hand.”

“A little?” he asked, incredulous.

“Fine. A lot. Look, I don’t know what she told you, but I’ve got nothing but respect for your sister, man. She’s one of a kind. She’s a good girl.”

“Damn straight. Too good for you.”

“I know that, man. I promise you, I’m not looking to mess around with her.”

He gave me one last look and then disappeared as quickly as he’d shown up. Once he was gone, Toni slid back into the kitchen and walked up beside me.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“It’s fine. I wish everyone would just leave me the fuck alone.”

The truth was, ever since Maggie had told me about her experience growing up, I’d felt like shit. Here was a great woman cursed with low self-esteem, and I basically screwed around with her then walked out. I couldn’t have been a bigger shit if I’d tried. And I still couldn’t work out why I cared so much.

 

*

I spent the next couple of weeks trying to get my groove back. It wasn’t lost on me that it was taking me a month to get over a five-day…whatever. That last lunch together kept replaying in my mind. It was the first time we’d been real with each other. We exposed ourselves in a non-physical way, yet it felt ten times more intimate. I’d never told any woman about myself before, but with Maggie, it felt right. It felt natural.

The summer season was in full swing and the tourists and cottagers were everywhere. I spent the next two weeks working hard and then going out for a drink or two after work to wind down. Always with a crowd, but I always went home alone. It was never my intention—it just happened to work out that way.

One night I was taking off early after dinner and Adam stopped me, asking if I’d mind driving a case of cilantro out to Elena’s, the Mexican joint on Highway 4.

“We’re not going to use it, it’ll go bad, and I owe her a favour. Do you mind?” he asked.

“Not at all. I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

I took the case from him, threw it in the car, and headed out of town. It was a good plan. A new bar, fresh faces. Maybe tonight I’d turn things around.

It was close to ten when I pulled in outside the restaurant. The parking lot was full, which wasn’t unusual for a Tuesday night in the summer months. Music was streaming out of the open door as people spilled out and others made their way inside. I drove around back and parked, making my way in through the kitchen door.

Elena saw me immediately and came over to relieve me of the case. She passed it off to the kitchen staff and pulled me into a hug.

“Liam, so good to see you. I hope you’ll have a drink?” she asked.

“Absolutely. I’ll find my way to the bar.”

I gave her a kiss on the cheek and walked through the kitchen, greeting various acquaintances, and exited into the packed dining room. I made my way over to the bar and ordered a scotch. Within seconds, the empty stool on my right was taken by a tall blond holding an empty glass. She smiled at me and I signalled for the bartender.

“What are you drinking?” I asked her.

“Gin and tonic,” she purred.

I ordered another round of drinks for both of us and we settled into easy conversation. Krissy grew up in Three Mountains, then left to go to school. She returned home a few summers ago and ended up working in a dress shop in Rocky Heights. Managing, she kept saying. She had aspirations of becoming a designer, so I wasn’t sure what she was doing living outside of a major city, but I kept my mouth shut and enjoyed her company.

We were a few drinks in when Joe Jackson’s A Slow Song came on. Krissy turned to me with a smile.

“Dance with me?” she said.

I got off the stool and took her hand as she slid off hers. I turned to the makeshift dance floor and saw Maggie, eyes closed, dancing with some skinny dude. I swallowed, a little unprepared for the conflicting thoughts going through my brain.

“What’s the matter?” Krissy asked. “Let’s go.”

I turned to her.

“Second thought, why don’t we take this dance outside?” I said.

She wrapped her arm around my waist and I steered her towards the side door, out into the parking lot. As soon as we were outside, she pulled me towards her and kissed me. I couldn’t believe how long it had been since I’d kissed a woman, Maggie included. I’d been celibate for the past month. I hadn’t gone that long without sex in over a decade. I was wired. And yet...

When Krissy kissed me, I felt nothing. I kissed her back, taking a handful of her hair in my fist and running my hand down the side of her neck. She moaned into my mouth, pressing herself up against me. Nothing. I wasn’t sure what to do. That was a first. I always knew what to do.

Krissy, on the other hand, had zero qualms about what was going on. She was all in, running her hands under my shirt, up my back, scraping her nails across my skin. I couldn’t even get it up. There was nothing there. Well, not nothing. Actually—

“Oh, shit!” I pulled away from Krissy and turned to the left before puking out the contents of the evening.

Krissy screeched and jumped back, putting out her hands as if to shield herself from the back spray. Thankfully, there was none.

“Fuck. Dude. Seriously?”

She straightened her skirt and adjusted the spaghetti straps of her dress.

“I’m sorry. Really. I guess I just had too much too drink,” I offered weakly.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

She turned and walked back into the bar. I just stood there, staring at the door after it shut behind her.