“Is what our new normal?” he asks.
“Giving each other the third degree? You don’t usually ask me about my Saturday nights.”
“You don’t usually crash mine.”
Instinctively, I move to get up, and Liam’s hand comes to restjust above my knee. “Please stay.”
I’m trapped in this booth, sandwiched between my two favorite Campbell men. I couldn’t go anywhere if I tried, but I don’t hate Liam’s hand on my leg. And I hate that I don’t hate it.
The warmth of his palm seeps into my jeans, and I’m sorry when he removes it and clears his throat. “Can we start over?”
I nod.
“Okay. I’ll go first. I’m glad you’re here with us, and I’m sorry I gave you grief about your date.”
“I’m sorry I promised details and then got defensive about them.”
This isn’t starting over. It’s an apology exchange. But I’d rather clear the air than pretend like it didn’t happen. Kind ignoring is something you do with people you don’t care for, and I very much like Liam. I just wish his digs about my date were more about jealousy and less about being protective of me.
Chapter 21 – Clearing the Air
Liam
I’m not sure which part of me is being more impulsive right now, my mouth or my hand. The normal restraint I wrap myself in like a protective layer has been completely shut down by the feel of Rosie next to me. Rosalie, I correct myself.
The best course of action is to finish my ice cream as quickly as possible so I can go home and regroup. It helps that Wyatt gulps down his and is soon a sticky mess. The remnants are dripping all over the table. Rosalie’s occupied with cleaning him up as best she can. I leave the booth to wet a few napkins with water from the soda fountain so I can help her.
Our goodbyes are as awkward as I imagined they would be after I put my hand on her leg as if I could somehow dictate where she goes and when. We’ve had disagreements before, but theywere always constructive. I like it when Rosalie stands her ground. This was something else entirely. I don’t know what came over me.
She hugs Wyatt, who looks embarrassed about it but pleased. She gives me a head nod.
Once she’s in her car and backing out, I turn toward Wyatt and sigh. “Ready to go home?”
He takes the car keys out of my hand and hits the button to unlock my Volvo. “Yeah. My stomach hurts.”
“So does mine.” Though my ache has little to do with the ice cream and everything to do with the war going on inside me. I probably shouldn’t have sent her the address. I could have just cancelled the whole thing and eaten ice cream at home. It would have been rude, but it also would’ve been the safer choice.
Once we’re in the car, he asks, “What were you and Rosie fighting about?”
“We weren’t fighting.”
“You were saying sorry to each other. I heard you.”
I meet his gaze for a second before concentrating on backing out of our spot. The parking lot is tiny and busy. “Well, you know how sometimes when you say stuff without thinking, it can come out rude?”
Wyatt nods like he knows. Because he does.
“That’s what happened with us. So, we had to stop talking and just apologize.” When we drive past the turnoff that would take us to Esther’s house, I look at him in the rearview mirror. He’s staring out the window. “Are you okay with Callie sleeping over at your mom’s tonight and not you?” I’ve been trying to find a good way to ask, but in the end, I’d rather be direct. Not that he doesn’t understand what a girls’ night is, but fairness means a lot to kids.
“I don’t care. Sometimes Callie wants to paint my nails, but she needs a girl to do that with. Would you let her paint your nails, Dad?”
I smile like I’m about to reveal the world’s greatest secret. “I let her once.”
“How come I never saw it?”
“I used nail polish remover right after.”
“Was she mad?”