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Felicity Reynolds
A change in routine could be good. It could be the best thing for a person, really, depending on the transformation taking place. If it was the right kind of change, it could be just the thing to kickstart a person stalled out, stuck in the hazard lane of his or her own life. This was especially true for people who, for one reason or another, had stopped believing that their life could go anywhere positive. For Felicity, the change from her tiny, efficient apartment to Liam's mansion was so overwhelming it didn't seem real. It was so unreal and unsettling for the first two or three days. Every morning she woke up on the verge of panic, not knowing where she was or why she was there. She imagined it was similar to what flight attendants felt waking up in a new city, a new country even, every other week. It wasn't just the mornings, either. For three nights in a row, she woke up terrified and gasping for the few seconds it took her to orient her new place. One night she was so loud she was sure she had woken up everyone in the house. For several long seconds she sat propped up on her elbows waiting for someone to come running, if not Liam, then one of the many security people he had on property twenty-four hours a day. She was almost concerned when time ticked by and there was no knock on her door, but then she remembered that the house was so big it was unlikely anyone had heard such a short, curtailed sound. She tried not to think too hard about what that might mean for her safety if someone really was to come after her. The fact that she didn't think anything would really happen helped in that respect considerably.
The boredom didn't start settling in until she had been at the North mansion for maybe a week. That was how long it took for the novelty to wear off, for her to realize that in her new role as the fake girlfriend, she left completely useless. She didn't get in the way or cause any trouble. In fact, she tried to leave as little a footprint as possible. But the problem was that the house just seemed to swallow her up. Nothing to do except wander through ridiculously fancy rooms with security guys tracking her every move. They were as discreet as possible about it, but it didn't take a genius to learn their habits, especially when she had little else to pay attention to. By the time two weeks had gone by without a single disturbance, she felt like she was going out of her mind. Unfortunately, it was a sentiment Lena, who had little to no sympathy for.
“I’m sorry, but are you shitting me right now?” she shrieked into the phone, loud enough for it to actually hurt, and Felicity had to put the phone away from her ear.
“Gross,” Felicity laughed once she felt it was safe to return to the conversation, “I’ve always hated that saying. The imagery is sort of disgusting, don’t you think?”
“No way, sister, don’t try and change the subject. Just because you’re fancy now doesn’t mean you can play your wily tricks on me.”
"Who said anything about fancy?" Felicity sighed, flopping back onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. A quick glance around the room didn't do much to support her point, and she was glad Lena couldn't see her new room while they were talking. It was, by far, the most opulent place she had ever seen. The effect started to wear off as she spent more time there, but when she stopped to really look around, she was still completely astonished that people lived this way. Her bed at home was a twin, and the mattress sagged so badly in the middle that sometimes she opted for sleeping on the floor instead. Her bed at Liam's place was a four-poster king and the sheets were made out of silk. Not that weird synthetic stuff, but actual, genuine silk. The floors were perfectly polished hardwoods while the huge bathroom was all marble. If she got up to look out the windows, plural because she was in a corner room and it came with an impressive view, there was a front lawn that looked like its own national park. How somebody could have something like that anywhere near a city was beyond her. But then Liam had it.
“Honey,” Lena interrupted her thoughts, almost like she knew what she’d been thinking. “I don’t need you to say anything. You’re living with a genuine billionaire right now. Unless he’s one of those weirdo recluses-”
“He’s not. He’s not a weirdo. At least not that I’ve seen.”
“Okay, then you’re living in the lap of luxury right now. You should be living it up!”
“I don’t know,” Felicity said doubtfully, “I guess so.”
“No ‘I guess.’ That’s just how it is. I honestly don’t see what you could have to complain about.”
"Because I feel useless, okay?! I feel like I'm not even a person anymore. I just lay around doing nothing, and that's all."
“And?”
“And it’s too weird. I’ve been working a minimum of two jobs since I was like, fifteen, and now I’m doing nothing. Do you get that? Nothing. At all.”
"Yes," Lena said slowly like she was talking to a two-year-old who didn't understand much in the way of language. "That's right. You're doing nothing and getting paid for it. Hello, dream job!"
" I don't know if it makes sense, but I don't feel comfortable." She sounded pitiful to herself, and she was sure Lena would make fun of her in that friendly, albeit not always pleasant way she had. When Lean was silent, then continued to be silent for longer than was characteristic, Felicity sat up straight. Her whole body went tense, waiting for what Lena had to say next. Absurdly, she was a little afraid to hear it. She did sound terribly ungrateful, after all. Maybe Lena had finally had enough of her bitching.
“Actually, it does make sense,” Lena finally sighed, “and I kind of love you for it.”
"I don't get it," Felicity answered, her relief a physical thing. Whether her complaints were valid, or she was just feeling sorry for herself, this would be the worst time for her and Lena to get into one of their very rare fights. Still, having Lena not only relent but agree with her completely was totally unexpected. She definitely didn't expect getting actual praise for it.
“You’re just kind of a badass, that’s all. A lot of people in your position would be over the moon excited not to have anything to do. It says something about your character that you don’t love it.”
“Thanks, Lena, that’s very sweet,” Felicity said, trying not to sound as choked up as she felt.
“Don’t mention it. And don’t cry. Seriously Felicity, if you cry, I’m never going to let you live it down,” Lena said, feeling almost panicky.
"I'm not going to cry," Felicity laughed, "just tell me what I'm supposed to do. I can't exactly go complain to him about being so well taken care of, can I?"
“No,” Lena answered promptly, “you would look like a total brat. But you’re in a mansion, for Christ’s sake. Is there anything there that sparks your imagination?”
Felicity was all set to say no but stopped before the word got out. How could she be so stupid? It was true that she was living in somebody else's house, and there was always a certain level of discomfort there, but the home was so big and the grounds so full of possibilities. The moment Lena asked her that one simple question, her head was overcome by a picture of the immaculate kitchen beneath her so clear she might as well have been sitting at the boat-sized island.
“Um, Felicity? Earth to Felicity? If you hung up on me-”
“No, but I’m pretty sure you’re a genius!”
“I don’t disagree, but why exactly?”
"I'll tell you later. If I'm going to get everything I need, I've got to go right now. Love you, friend!" She hung up before giving Lena the chance to say anything else. She could envision her friend's expression of annoyance when she shut her eyes, and she smiled at herself as she hurried out of her room and down the North mansion's grand main staircase.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
“THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE! I want to know what’s going on in there and I want to know right now.”
“But, sir-”
“No, Matt. Either now or we can have a discussion about your future employment.”
From her place in the kitchen, Felicity winced. Matt and the other men on his team had been dolls about helping her with her plan for the evening. Samson had looked perplexed by the length of her grocery list, but he willingly went and got every item on the list. It had been she who had asked the guys to keep Liam out of the kitchen until she was done. Matt had told her that Liam didn't like change in his routine that was not sanctioned by him, but she had pleaded with him, and after some time he had relented. Now she could see why he had been so on the fence about the idea. Liam sounded one step above irate that he was being kept from his kitchen. Had to be if he was threatening to fire the man Felicity was certain was his favorite employee. She just thought he was being a pompous jackass, proof that having too much for too long was poison for a guy's character. There was a much smaller part of her, however, that thought his reaction might be because of her; because he cared about her. She would never express the idea out loud, not in a million years, but she thought it might be true, nevertheless.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself, brushing her hands off on her apron and taking a deep breath, “time to do some damage control.”
She whipped the apron off, took a quick look around the kitchen to see how much of a mess she had made and hurried to the kitchen door. She arrived, gripping the handle, just as Liam came bashing through said door and almost knocked her flat on her back. Matt followed close behind him, his face pinched and maybe a little-pissed off.
“Oh!” she gasped as she went sprawling, just narrowly missing knocking her head into a table leg.
“What the hell is this?” Liam bellowed, turning quickly and trying to look everywhere at once. “What’s going on in here?” The last part was directed at Matt, whose face darkened even further. Felicity could see where this was headed, and it was nowhere good. She scrambled to her feet, almost fell back down again, and then managed to get herself upright.
“Okay boys, let’s all take a breath. I think this has gotten a little out of hand, don’t you?” she asked in a carefully pleasant voice. She was trying to be the voice of reason in a room chalk full of testosterone, which was no small feat. She thought she was doing a pretty decent job, too.
"I don't know if ‘out of hand’ is the expression I would use to describe this, Felicity," Liam said, his voice low and dangerous. She felt the urge to tell him to stop being such a jackass but bit her tongue to keep it back.
"Okay, I get it. Really, I do. Maybe Matt could just go, okay? He can go back to work, and I'll explain."
"I think that's probably best boss, don't you?" Matt agreed through gritted teeth. He turned around on his heels and walked out of the door without waiting for an answer, and Liam started after him. Felicity, her head already filled with visions of the two men in the hospital after trying to beat each other to a bloody pulp, lunged forward and grabbed Liam's arms, holding onto him until Matt was gone. Once that was done, she tugged on him some more until he turned grudgingly from the door to face her.
"Liam, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, okay?" she said placatingly. Trying to soothe a man's anger was a familiar feeling for Felicity. It was a feeling she had worked hard to push down so far below her surface that she wouldn't ever have to examine it again. Now it threatened to rear its head again, and she shook her head, fast and hard, to clear her mind. Liam's feelings were justified, even if they were uncomfortable. They had nothing to do with who she had been before. This time she really did have an obligation to make amends. She was the reason Liam was so pissed off, although he didn’t appear to realize it.
“You’re sorry?” he parroted, his face both reserved and quizzical at the same time, “What for? Unless I’m very far out of the loop, you aren’t the one in charge of the security here.”
“No, you’re right. It’s probably a good thing, too,” she laughed hesitantly.
"Then what do you need to apologize for?" he persisted. She squirmed, rising up on her tiptoes and then back down again compulsively. It was her one really noticeable nervous tick, and she had gotten looks about it her whole life. If Liam noticed it, he didn't let on.
“I’m the reason Matt didn’t want to let you in here,” she answered haltingly, “I asked him not to.”
"Explain," he answered. Only one clipped word but it made her insides jump up to her throat. He was thoroughly authoritarian in his delivery and made it almost impossible to do anything but comply.
“I’ve been feeling weird, just wandering around this house with nothing to do. I talked to Lena-”
“Who is Lena?” he broke in. His voice sharp and in her humble estimation, frightened.
“She’s my friend. My best friend.”
“And you told her about all of this?”
"I did, but there's no reason to worry. I can promise you, she's not a part of any ring of jewel thieves."
“You can’t, actually.”
“Can’t?”
“Promise that.”
"I'm more sure that she isn't part of it than I am about you. Is that enough for you?" she asked, starting to get annoyed herself. It didn't happen often, and Liam must have sensed that he was pushing it too far because he held up both hands palms out in a tentative gesture of peace.
“Fair enough. Tell me what that’s got to do with you giving my security guys directions?”
“She told me I should find something that made me feel useful and cooking was what made the most sense. I love to cook. I always have, and I’ve never gotten a chance to cook in a kitchen as nice as this.”
For a minute Liam just stared at her while she stood there squirming, wishing fervently for the power of invisibility. His face betrayed nothing. Then the corners of his mouth started to lift into a smile and Felicity sighed in relief.
"You could have just said something, you know," he said with a small laugh. Her body flushed, making it feel like the temperature in the room had risen by ten degrees all at once, and she looked at the floor. She felt like an utter fool. There was zero reason for her to insist on all of that secrecy. She had wanted to do something nice for him, make herself useful, but instead had created more disruption in his household than she had already been doing. And oh God, was she going to cry? Her mind insisted that she wouldn't do something that humiliating, but the hot, prickling feeling in her eyes said differently. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek and probably wouldn't ever have looked up again if Liam hadn't reached out to gently lift her face.
“Felicity?” he asked softly, no trace of the anger he’d demonstrated towards Matt.
“Yes?” she squeaked, fighting the temptation to look down again.
“It’s okay. You don’t have anything to feel bad for. I overreacted. I do that sometimes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Just show me what you have cooked because I’m starving, and it smells fantastic in here.”
She grinned at him and as he sat down, she felt really good for the first time since coming to live at Liam's house. She liked feeling his eyes on her while she busied herself setting out the food she had spent hours making. The warmth of the kitchen made her tingle, her skin coming alive with the expectation of what the evening might hold in store. It was a simple enough meal; a roast with roasted potatoes and other assorted vegetables, but the bread was freshly baked, and the flavor profile of everything was complex and deep. While she set the table, Liam excused himself and returned a moment later with a bottle of wine. She was no wine expert, but the bottle looked expensive. She would never ask about the price, she had been raised better than that, but she made a mental note to look it up later. All she knew was that she was glad to finally sit down. More than that, she was glad to sit down across Liam; to feel something akin to a family meal. It didn't hurt that he looked so thoroughly impressed with everything. Judging by his expression, one would think she had laid out a Michelin-star-level meal. He was so impressed that for several minutes there was zero conversation. The two of them ate in silence, and to Felicity's surprise, it wasn't an awkward one. When the two of them made eye contact again, Liam's eyes were shining.
“Alright, you’ve been holding out on me,” he said with mock seriousness.
“No! I haven’t been! Not at all!” She laughed, turning bright red.
“But you have been. I had no idea you could cook like this. You shouldn’t be working in restaurants, Felicity. You should be the head chef.”
"No way. I'm just a home cook. It's very sweet of you to say, though," she answered demurely. She definitely wasn't used to these kinds of compliments.
“You’re more than that. Much more, whether you see it or not.”
"Well, thank you. It's a very sweet thing to say," she answered, hoping that was the end of it. Modest was an understatement when it came to Felicity, and she didn't have the right equipment to handle it. If he kept going with the compliments, she was going to be rendered speechless. Her change of topic was more out of necessity than anything else.
"Tell me something about yourself," she said abruptly enough that he put down his fork and looked at her intently. She laughed and shoveled more potatoes into her mouth like it was her job. It wasn't the most lady-like thing in the world, but it was the only thing she could think of to do.
"I don't think anyone's ever asked me anything like that before," he said finally, his eyes narrowing a little in concentration.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what-”
“No. Don't apologize. I liked it. What kind of something do you want to know?" he asked, settling back into his chair and sipping his wine thoughtfully.
"Tell me something you haven't told anyone before," she answered quietly, peering at him over her glass of wine. He raised one eyebrow, his entire face one big question. She was tempted to look away, but she held his gaze.
“You’re really going for the jugular, aren’t you?” he asked, chuckling softly.
“I don’t know. Am I?”
“Something I haven’t told anyone before implies something personal,” he answered, his voice mild but strangely chiding at the same time.
“If it isn’t personal,” she countered, her confidence picking up now, “is it really worth knowing?”
"Good point." he laughed loudly enough that she jumped in her chair. He took a long, slow sip of his wine and did not speak. He picked up his fork, took a thoughtful bite, and did not speak. She could practically see the wheels turning, and her anticipation was so huge she couldn't breathe. She didn't expect an answer because it was something she had no right to ask and when he finally opened his mouth, she was ready to hear an excuse.
"I still miss my mom," he answered, his voice sounding somehow smaller than it normally did. Her mouth dropped open, and for a second, she was sure he’d made it up. He watched her reaction intently and, she thought, a little nervously. When she didn't respond, he took another sip of his wine and cleared his throat loudly.
“Sorry, maybe that wasn’t the kind of answer you were looking for. Too much of a downer?”
“No! Sorry, not at all. I’m just surprised. I didn’t think you would give me a real answer.”
"Honestly, I'm not sure why I did. I've never said that out loud before," he answered, looking bemused. It was the expression on his face that drove what she did next. He held that little boy lost look in his eyes, like he had woken up to find himself in a life he was not prepared to navigate. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tightly.
“Thank you,” she answered, her voice catching in her throat. It wasn’t nearly enough, her stupid thank you, but it was all she could think to say. For the time being, it must have been enough because he lifted her hand, kissed it lightly, and then put it down again without letting her go.
“She didn’t leave. She died,” he said, his voice low and thick.
“You don’t have to-”
"You're right; I don't. I might need to, though. Like I said, I haven't spoken about it before. If you don't mind," he added on the end, almost as an afterthought.
“I don’t mind,” she whispered.
"She died. It happened when I was seventeen. She had been sick for a long time, but we didn't know."
"We?" she asked timidly.
“My sister Rebecca. She’s two years younger than me. I think our father knew, although he has never been willing to speak about it. As far as Rebecca and I were aware, our mother had a cold one day and a week later she was dead.”
“I’m so sorry.” There was that stupid word again. The English language needed a word that meant more.
“It was harder on Rebecca than anyone. I got to go to college and pretend it didn’t happen, but she was still so young.”
“But what about your dad? Surely it was difficult for him, too?” she half said, half asked.
“You would think, right?” Liam laughed humorously, “But he was married less than a year later. His new wife was four years older than me when they made it official.”
“Oh my God, are you serious? She was only twenty-one?” Felicity gasped, more genuinely shocked by this last part than by any of the rest.
“I’m serious. She was the kind of girl I would have tried to hit on if I’d see her out somewhere.”
“Liam, I’m-”
"Do you want to do something with me?" he asked suddenly, changing the topic of conversation so quickly it just about gave her whiplash. It must have shown on her face too, because one look at her set Liam off laughing. It was one of those deep gut laughs, and Felicity couldn't help joining in.
“Come on now, don’t leave a guy hanging. Do you want to do something with me or don’t you?”
"Yes," she answered quickly. She answered as fast as she could, fast enough that there was no time for second-guessing. There might be regrets after the fact, but for the time being, his answering grin was all she needed.
