LIAM WATCHED CECILY sprint away from the table and inwardly kicked himself. What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to be taking her mind off her illness, not reminding her at every turn that the clock was ticking. He was trying to be supportive, telling her he didn’t care what time they had left, as long as they had some time together, but that only brought up the specter in the room, the thing she was trying so hard to ignore. If only she’d consider a second opinion. Surely, there were other doctors, other treatments. Why listen to the first one who told you it was hopeless?
While Cecily was so strong, so courageous, she was also fragile. Dealing with the emotional trauma of having to face the possibility of her life being cut short wasn’t easy for anyone. Liam couldn’t begin to understand how that felt. He should stop bringing it up. He should just let her deal with it on her own terms.
That, or she’d be just another woman he’d scared off with his intensity. Hadn’t the last woman he’d dated told him to loosen up? Stop being so serious? He couldn’t help who he was, though. He’d been born this way.
The waiter came by and replaced their small salad plates with the third course. Another artistic, gastronomic phenomenon, no doubt, but Liam was losing his appetite. He’d grown up with food like this, food that was hard to pronounce, and looked nothing like it ought to: salads that weren’t green, meat covered in delicate sauces and bookended with tiny baby vegetables. Plates that looked more like art than food.
He was surprised how easily he fell back into old habits, how fine dining felt like coming home. He’d spent most of his life running from the money he’d grown up with, and yet, here, in these places, he was reminded that money did, indeed, have benefits.
He took a sip of the wine and as the rosé met his lips, he remembered his mother. His mother loved her rosé, and the smell of expensive wine always clung to her, especially in the days when she drank too much. He tried to bury that memory. She’d been a good mother, or at least, tried to be a good mother to him. It wasn’t her fault she buckled under the pressure of being a single mom to them. Besides, alcoholism was a disease. She’d needed help, and he was often the only one there to help her.
A few moments later, Cecily returned from the bathroom and Liam felt a sense of relief. Part of him had been worried she’d just sneak out the back and never return. As she crossed the restaurant in her fire-engine red strapless sundress, the breath caught in his throat. She was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. As in, beauty queen, head-turning stunning. He observed how the patrons and staff in the restaurant turn to watch her as she walked through: diners, waiters, busboys, she claimed all of their attention.
Liam leaped to his feet when she approached the table, a habit gleaned from years at boarding school. Rise for elders and women, help them with their chairs. He hurried over to pull out her chair, and she seemed a little taken aback. She sat and he got a whiff of her perfume. Roses, maybe? Lilacs? Something delicate and beautiful, just like her. He took his seat across the small table. He studied her face, but saw her eyes were dry, though her nose seemed pink. He damn well hoped he hadn’t made her cry.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I’m just an emotional wreck these days.”
“Please don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I’m supposed to take your mind off things. Not remind you of what you’re trying to forget.”
She reached forward and grabbed his hand, hers feeling cool and soft. “You do take my mind off things. Believe me, you do.” She sent him a brave smile that squeezed his heart a little bit. He was still not sure how a woman this perfect, this glowing, could be sick. She didn’t look sick. Didn’t act sick. Maybe, he thought, the doctors were wrong. God, he hoped they were wrong.
The waiter returned, this time bringing a small melon sorbet, a simple bite. Cecily blinked hard, staring at it, then she leaned over. “Is this dessert? Already?” She was no doubt worried that dinner consisted of only several bites of delicious, but not-so-filling food.
“It’s a sorbet,” Liam explained. “To cleanse your palate. So you can better taste and enjoy the next course.”
“Oh.” Cecily took the small spoon on the plate and dipped into the single green ball. “Mmm. Honeydew,” she announced. Then, she watched him do the same. She studied him, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. “How did you know it was sorbet? The waiter didn’t tell us.”
Liam shrugged. “Lucky guess.”
“About sorbet and cleansing palates? You are a mystery. Is this what people on the Upper East Side eat all the time?” she teased, but he didn’t go for the bait.
She dabbed her mouth. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in his seat. Why had he decided to tackle “fancy dinner” on her bucket list? There were a ton of other things he could’ve done. But he knew why. He’d wanted to impress her, wanted to spoil her with a magical meal. That’s why he didn’t mind blowing cash on an expensive dinner. But now, with all the questions popping up in her mind about him, he was beginning to regret the decision. He might as well have just worn a sign that said, “I come from money. Why not ask me about it?”
Thankfully, the waiter came with the next course. Their beef course—the “main” course, though the delicate food on the small plate was hardly bigger than four bites—was the largest portion yet. Cecily was so busy staring at the beautifully plated meal that she was temporarily distracted from asking him about sorbet. Thank God.
“So,” he said, as the waiter filled a new glass with red wine. “I want to know everything. Favorite movie. Favorite band. You go.”
“You first,” she challenged him.
“All right,” he said, glad to be in safer territory. “Favorite movie? The Godfather. Favorite band? Tough one. I like all kinds of music. But a killer guitarist is my thing. Stevie Ray Vaughan, Gary Clark, Jr. Guys who can rip on the guitar.”
“I saw Gary Clark, Jr., in concert. He was amazing.”
“You like Gary Clark, Jr.?”
“‘Bright Lights, Big City’ is my favorite song.” Not only was the woman gorgeous, but she also had amazing taste in music? She might just be the perfect woman.
“Mine, too.” The two of them stared at each other for a long beat. He couldn’t believe he’d found a woman who loved a wailing guitar as much as he did. “And, personally, The Godfather is great, but if you’re talking amazing mob movies, you’ve got to give it to Goodfellas. Scorsese runs circles around Coppola.”
“You like mob movies, too?” Liam couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his voice. Now, she was too good to be true.
“What? Do I amuse you?” she said, quoting from the movie. “Am I a clown? Am I funny to you?”
“What’s your second favorite mob movie?”
“No question, it’s The Departed.”
“I might love you,” Liam blurted.
“Might?” She batted her eyelashes at him, and he laughed. A big belly laugh that took him by surprise. Cecily was full of surprises, wonderful delightful, surprises.
“I can’t believe you love mob movies.”
Cecily laughed. “Is that so weird?”
“But you’re...” Sexy. Hot. Delicate. Feminine. Not the kind of person he’d expect to want to curl up on a couch on a Friday night with a bowl of popcorn watching gruesome mob hits by tough guys spouting pithy one-liners.
“I’m...?” She let it lie there between them as a teasing smile played at the corners of her lips. God, had a woman ever been this sexy?
“Maybe the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” She laughed then, flashing her even white teeth, her beautiful smile. All he wanted to do was make her laugh again and again, see that smile on her face every day for as long as they had together.
“You’re easily impressed,” she managed, catching her breath.
“Not that easy.” It had been a long time since a woman had piqued his interest quite so much. Maybe never, if he were honest with himself.
The rest of the dinner flew by in a blur, and Liam barely acknowledged the meal of amazing food. He was too busy focused on the amazing woman in front of him. Her quick wit, her daring nature, the way she seemed to tackle every challenge in her life with a kind of rare and quiet fortitude.
Most people who’d gotten a diagnosis like hers would be bemoaning their circumstances, and crying, Why me? Cecily didn’t seem to have a self-pitying bone in her body. She was smart, full of light and laughter, her eyes bright with excitement about every little dish put in front of them. Her curiosity about the world, about him, about everything, spilled out into everything she did and said.
Liam wasn’t used to this kind of sparkling company. They talked about everything from movies to politics, the conversation never lagging, the connection between them growing deeper the longer they talked. It felt like they shared a brain, they had so much in common.
Outside the restaurant, they held hands beneath the silvery moonlight. “Want to go for a walk? The waterfront is just over there.” Cecily nodded in the direction of the Hudson River, not far from their restaurant.
“Is that where you take all of your dates? All the men who fill up your dating inbox with messages about how they can’t wait to sweep you off your feet?”
Now it was Cecily’s turn to laugh. “I don’t date around, either,” she told him as they walked, hand in hand. Her delicate hand was so soft, so small in his. “I did have a boyfriend.”
“Knew it.”
“But things didn’t work out. He was in the finance industry, and, well, let’s just say he didn’t believe in monogamy.”
Liam felt a rush of anger toward a man he’d never met.
“He was an idiot.”
Cecily shrugged. “Yeah, that’s what my sister said.” They turned the corner and before them was the dark water of the Hudson, and in the distance, the glittering gold lights of Manhattan, the skyline lit up in the night sky. Liam tried not to frown when he saw the big buildings, a reminder where his brother and family still lived.
“You don’t like the skyline?” Cecily asked, glancing up at him with concern. He must have had his distaste written all over his face. They began walking along the path, which was mostly empty. A few stragglers still walked or jogged by, though the sun had long set.
“Not really a New York guy,” he said.
“But you live in New Jersey, a stone’s throw away.”
“Yeah. I know.” He glanced away from the water. He had his reasons. One of them was a promise he’d made to his mother not to go too far. She’d always need him: in case she relapsed. Someone would need to take her to rehab, and his brothers had long since washed their hands of her care. “My mom lives in Manhattan, and she’s a recovering alcoholic. I promised I’d stay nearby. In case she needs me.”
Cecily raised an eyebrow. “That’s being a dutiful son.”
“I guess.” Liam shrugged.
“Are you two close?”
“Kind of.” Their relationship was complicated, like most son-and-mother relationships, made all the more so by her chemical dependency. There were times in his life she hadn’t been there for him, times when he was much younger that he had to fend for himself when he shouldn’t have. She often missed meals, missed teacher conferences and missed his baseball games. But he knew that wasn’t her fault. That was the addiction. It was a semi-manageable problem until his father died, and she spun out of control. “She always struggled a little with drinking, but things got worse when my father died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, squeezing his hand. Something about the tone of her voice, or the way she was holding his hand, made him want to share. He never wanted to share details about his life or his family with anyone, but he wanted her to know.
“Yeah, she’s sober now, but for a while, I didn’t think she’d be able to get clean,” he managed. “After my father died, the drinking was by far the worst. It got bad.”
“How bad?”
“She was so hungover, I missed my first day of middle school,” he admitted. “She was supposed to drive me. I tried to get her out of bed, but she wouldn’t budge. So I missed the first day. My twin brother, too. But he didn’t care as much as I did.”
“That’s terrible,” Cecily exclaimed.
“Yeah. Alcoholism is a bitch of a disease,” Liam said. “And my half brother didn’t make it any easier for her. I think he thought it was just a personal failing, a weakness of character. But it is a disease.”
“I’m so sorry.” Cecily moved closer to him, and he was acutely aware of her slim body next to his, the warmth of her arm now entwining in his.
“She got sober eventually, and has been sober for a couple of years, but I don’t know how long that will last. When things get to be hard in her life, sometimes she falls off the wagon.” Liam shook his head, trying to press down all the many terrible memories from his childhood: her showing up late and drunk to his graduation. Her being so hungover that she missed saying goodbye that morning he left the family estate and never looked back. “And my half brother, he took advantage of her. Of her being out of it. That’s how he took over my dad’s business.”
“Doesn’t sound like a very nice thing to do.”
“He’s not a nice guy.” Liam ground his back teeth together as he thought about Wilder. “He never really liked that Dad remarried, never liked my mom.”
“How do your brothers get along with him?”
“Fine, I guess. They don’t see him as I see him.” As the money-grubbing, backstabbing traitor he was. “They think he’s doing what’s best. But Wilder is persuasive. He’s brainwashed them.”
“Or maybe he’s not all bad,” Cecily offered. “If he’s taking care of your brothers...”
“No.” Wilder shook his head. “He’s only taking care of them so he has their votes on the board. It all comes back to what he can get. What’s in it for him. He stole my dad’s business.”
“And what’s that?”
Liam balked. He didn’t know why. Why not just tell her it was Lange Communications? One of the largest media companies in the world? The conglomerate that owned one in three newspapers, and three out of five television networks? Yet he hesitated.
“It’s an old family business,” he said, not wanting to get into the fact that it started out with his grandfather launching a few magazines in the 1950s, but sixty years later, the company had gobbled up airwaves and some broadband, too. “Boring stuff, really. Networking and stuff.” Not a lie, but not the truth, either.
“Oh, okay,” she said, but her eyes told him that she knew he was holding out on her. And why was he holding out? Why didn’t he want to tell her? But then, he knew why. He was enjoying her not knowing. Once women found out he was one of the possible heirs to Lange Communications, something always changed in the relationship. Something shifted. Even women who claimed not to care about money in the least, still somehow did. In theory they agreed, until they realized he’d left millions, or even billions, on the table. Many questioned his sanity; others tried to convince him maybe it wasn’t too late to make amends. But he knew it was beyond too late for that.
He didn’t want to ruin whatever time he had with Cecily arguing about the foolishness of walking away from such a substantial fortune. Or have the disappointment in knowing that she would think it was foolish.
“Look at that moon,” he said, drawing her attention to the crescent in the sky, hanging above the city skyline like a ready-made postcard.
“It’s pretty,” she agreed.
“Not as pretty as you.”
She turned to face him then in the moonlight, her delicate features illuminated by the moon and the streetlights. In that moment, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She seemed transfixed by him, too. Their gazes locked, as her mouth parted just slightly. He dipped down and kissed her gently at first, reverently. She was the one who quickly deepened the kiss, lacing her delicate hands behind his neck, pressing her soft body against his. Instantly, he felt his whole body react to her, his primal self come alive. She was no delicate flower, as she kissed him, her tongue lashing his, awakening a need in him he didn’t even know he had. Instinctual, essential. His hands roamed down her back, finding her hips. He just wanted more of her. More of her mouth. More of her tongue. More of her frantic hands in his hair. Just...more.
He almost forgot they were making out in public, on the waterfront, until a passerby whistled. A jogger sped by.
“Get a room,” he yelled as he ran.
Cecily pulled away from him, her eyes bright and full of mischief. “Well, shall we?”
He could feel his want pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of his pants. “Yes. Let’s.”
Cecily couldn’t believe she was having Liam over at her apartment. Couldn’t believe her luck that a one-night stand had turned into...what was this, anyway? No, she told herself. Don’t think about it. Don’t label it. Just be in the moment. All she wanted was to be naked in his arms, forgetting all about what might lie ahead. There was no better way to put off thinking about the future than Liam’s amazing body, his talented mouth and his expert hands.
She’d always thought that stories about sex addiction sounded so crazy. Who could possibly be addicted to sex? But then she met Liam and her mind was completely changed about the subject. Though she’d known him so little, she felt herself needing him more and more. Could feel the hunger for him, and only him, rising in her. Could it become an addiction? Yes, she was sure it could.
They were barely inside her apartment before Liam had his own shirt off and was working on hers. Clothes became obstacles to get off as soon as possible, barriers that must go immediately. They didn’t even make it to her bedroom before he took her against the wall of her entryway. Neither one of them could wait. He was holding her easily against the wall as she spread herself, wrapping her legs around his waist.
Waiting through dinner and then the walk had been torture. All she wanted was his body, his mouth, because with him inside her, she could think of nothing else but the desire growing in her, the white-hot want, building, ever building, inside of her, reminding her that she was the furthest thing from dead. She was alive. Her whole body was alive. She was almost there, but then he came, too quickly, in a groan of defeat.
“God, Cecily,” he cried, slumping against her. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
But she silenced him with a kiss. Something about him not being able to hold off seemed incredibly hot, as well. That she’d made him lose a little bit of control, a man she could tell prided himself on that very control. On not letting his feelings run away with him. But her body had done this. Made all discipline fall away. She loved it, the control, the power. He gently set her on her feet, and before she could move, he was kneeling in front of her, his mouth on her juicy mound.
“No, wait...” she cried, but he was there, his mouth eager to please, his tongue warm, slow and deliberate. She was pressed against the wall, and her knees felt weak, even as he lifted one of her legs in the air and placed it over his shoulder, the back of one knee now near his ear. She pressed both arms against the wall for support, and because the whole world felt like it was spinning out of control. He slipped two fingers inside her, and together with the amazingly light strokes of his tongue, she could feel the pleasure building, pent-up beneath some invisible gate. She forgot about everything but his mouth and his fingers that hit nerve endings she didn’t think she had. Pinned against the wall, his head between her legs, she reached the tipping point. There was no turning back as the climax came. A cry tore through her throat, as a tidal wave of pure pleasure washed over her, again and again.
Liam kissed her inner thigh gently before he rose and found her mouth, covering it with his. Her knees felt shaky and weak, her bones disintegrated into jelly. He picked her up then and carried her to her bedroom. She barely noticed that her blinds had been halfway open. They’d been so focused on one another, on the pleasure they’d get, that neither had bothered to shut the blinds. Cecily didn’t care. Liam carried her to the bedroom, laying her down on her bed and running feather kisses down her body. Worshipping her, drinking her in. She’d never felt as if a man took such care with her body before.
“That was amazing,” she croaked, still not able to believe the chemistry, the electric pleasure that had pulsed through her. She’d never felt something that powerful, that real, before. “I thought you promised me ‘normal.’ But there wasn’t anything normal about that.”
“True,” Liam said, and chucked low, as he lay down next to her. “Should we try again and see if we can be ‘normal’?”
“No way,” Cecily cried, curling up around his body, Liam’s arms closing around her. “I never want normal ever again.”
“Good, because you’re not going to get it,” Liam said as she laid her head on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, steady, a calming rhythm. She felt safe there, as if he offered her a perfectly protected bubble. Here, in his arms, she didn’t have to think about the future, about her failing body, about the cancer eating her from the inside. Here, everything was perfect. She had no worries.
“Thank you,” she muttered, suddenly feeling completely overcome with gratitude. What had she done to deserve this comfort? This amazing peace?
“For what?” Liam asked her hair, as he stroked her back with his free hand.
“For this.” She curled against him. He hugged her tighter, wrapping his hands around her.
“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he said, and sounded as if he meant it. “I didn’t think I could find anything like this.” He stroked her hair.
“Me, neither.”
Gratitude for Liam, and sadness, too, bubbled up in her. She squeezed back tears. She wouldn’t think about what would happen in the future. She would just live in the now. Wasn’t that on her bucket list, too? Live in the now. Don’t worry about the future.
“You don’t have to stay the night, if you don’t want to,” Cecily said. She didn’t want him to feel hemmed in. Trapped.
“Why wouldn’t I want to stay the night?”
“I mean...” There were a million reasons, but the biggest was that this relationship really couldn’t go anywhere.
“Why would I leave, when we’re just getting started?” Liam promised, and she knew he wasn’t lying. They wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight and that was just fine by her.