“Find yourself?” He was twenty-three, worked as a mechanic at a local garage, lived with his parents. Where, exactly, had he lost himself?
“We’ll start seeing each other again when I’m back.” He dragged deeply on his cigarette, the orangey glow lighting up his face. I’d always hated the smoky taste when he kissed me, even after he’d munched his way through half a packet of mints.
“When will you be back?” I tried to keep the whine out of my voice.
“I don’t know, babe.” He blew out a steady stream of smoke, then pulled me closer. “When I feel at one with Mother Nature. Or when I run out of cash.”
“But when did you decide?” I shouted as the music switched to R.E.M.’s “Shiny Happy People,” telling us to throw our love around. Oh, yeah? The only thing I wanted to throw was a slap in Dwayne’s direction.
He shrugged. “I booked it last month. I—”
“Last month?” This time there was definite whining, and I cringed.
“See.” Dwayne shook his head, and I realized he must have confused my self-directed contempt for emotional upset related to his imminent departure. “This is why I didn’t bring it up. I knew you wouldn’t understand.” And then he actually pursed his lips.
God, I hated it when he sulked. Come to think of it, over the past few weeks I’d hated pretty much everything he’d done. A few days ago I’d told him I was ill so I didn’t have to endure The Last Boy Scout. I’d watched Fried Green Tomatoes alone that night instead. The week before I’d said my period had come early because I wasn’t in the mood. Again. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in the mood. But all that aside, dumping me on New Year’s Eve was a shitty move by any standards.
“You know what, Dwayne? Have a great trip and a happy bloody 1992.”
I pushed past him, fully intent on retrieving my coat from the back of the bar so I could go home, curl up in bed and ignore the rest of the world’s celebrations. But the bar’s resident DJ Joe had other plans. The music stopped.
“Okay, everybody,” he said into his mike. “Grab your partner—or whoever you’d like to have as your partner tonight—and get ready. Only a few more seconds. Gird your loins, people, because... Here. We. Go!”
Everybody chanted, “Ten...”
As I pushed past a few more sweaty bodies I felt a hand on my arm.
“Nine...”
I was ready to turn around and tell my now ex-boyfriend to let me go. But when I heard a man’s voice in my ear, it wasn’t Dwayne’s.
“It’s bad luck to start the New Year without a kiss.”
“...eight...seven...”
Oh, come on. Did I have a Lonely Hearts Loser sign stuck to my back? Nice voice, though.
“...six...five...four...”
I turned around. Eyes, those eyes. Gray. Clear. Mesmerizing. I couldn’t help but stare.
“...three...two...”
“I’m Liam,” he said. His face moved closer. He put his index finger underneath my chin.
“...one.”
“And I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”
I didn’t recall hearing the shouts of, “Happy New Year.”
All I could remember were his arms sliding around my waist, mine around his neck, and the multicolored fireworks going off in my head when our lips touched.
NOW
ABBY
HE STOOD IN the doorway of Barbara Baker’s kitchen. Liam. My ex. The one man I’d loved more than life itself. I’d walked away from him, twice, and the last time I’d told him we’d never, ever see each other again. And yet, here he was. Living in the house next door.
“Hello,” he said, and swallowed. He looked at Sarah, then at me with those gray eyes. Wolf eyes, I used to call them. Hypnotic, hungry, searching.
I took a deep breath, realizing I’d held it since I’d heard his voice. My legs were planted firmly on the ground, heels pushed in, my arms crossed. A statue. What the hell should I say?
“Hello,” I muttered. “I—I’m...pleased to meet you.”
Had I said that out loud?
After a second he turned to Nate and shrugged. “I’m sorry.” He smiled, and I noticed his laughter lines had become a lot deeper since we’d last seen each other, but they suited him. “I’m hopeless with names.” He looked at me again. “Nate told me, but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten.”
“Abby,” Nate, Nancy and I said together, my voice twice as loud as theirs combined.
“Abby,” Liam said slowly, deliberately. “So sorry. I’m Liam.”
“Well, yes, we—” I stopped myself. We knew each other. Of course we did. I wanted to laugh, make a joke about it being a small world and wasn’t it a strange coincidence, ha, ha, ha. But I kept quiet. I should have said something. Made it abundantly clear there was history between us. A shared past. I had the opportunity. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to say anything.
Liam held out his hand, and when I shook it I swear an electric current passed between us. It flowed out of him and into me, washing over my entire body like a surfer’s wave. I hadn’t felt his touch for so long, but it was as if every pore of my skin remembered him. I looked into his eyes, tried to gauge his reaction, wondered if he’d felt it, too. He must have, surely. It had been too intense to ignore.
“Pleasure to meet you, too.” He let go of my fingers, his eyes giving nothing away, and turned to my daughter. “You’re Sarah?”
Sarah nodded.
“Can I get you a Coke?” Liam asked, and she nodded again. “How about you, Abby?” He held out a Stella, and I watched a drop of condensation run down the bottle neck and onto his hand. I wanted to reach out and touch it, but instead I cleared my throat.
“Water would be great.”
It seemed impossible to take my eyes off him as he grabbed a can from the fridge and handed it to Sarah. When he passed me a glass of water his fingers seemed to linger that little bit too long. My mouth went dry as old toast, so I swallowed a big gulp to compensate, almost emptying the entire glass in one go.
He’d hardly changed since I’d seen him. He always used to keep in shape—ran four or five times a week along with frequent visits to the gym. His dark blond hair had grayed slightly at the temples, and I liked it cut in that style, short at the back and slightly longer on top. Something I could run my fingers through when...
“So, Abby.” Nancy smiled brightly, plucking my mind away from the restricted area. “Nate said you grew up around Preston?”
“Uh...yes.”
“How funny,” she said, smile brighter still. “Like we told Nate, that’s where we’ve moved from.”
“Really?” I tried not to look at Liam but noticed my voice sounded a little shrill.
“Broughton,” Liam said.
“And Nate mentioned you’re from Hutton, Abby?” Nancy said, and all I could do was nod.
“Don’t let her accent fool you,” Nate said. “She’s a Northerner, born and bred. You might even know some of the same people, maybe—”
“Look,” I said, “I’d better get back and start dinner. I just wanted to say a quick hello.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Nancy waved a hand. “We ordered pizza. There’ll be enough for all of us. Should be here any minute. You’ll stay, won’t you?”
“I can’t,” I said quickly. “I’ve got some work to finish.”
“Babe.” Nate frowned.
“What do you do?” Nancy asked.
“I’m an accountant for Sterling Engineering but—”
“It’s Saturday night,” Nate said. “Can’t it wait?”
“No. But you and Sarah can stay and—”
“Mum,” Sarah half whispered out of the side of her mouth, giving me the evil eye at the same time. “Don’t leave me here.”
I ignored her, and everybody else. �
��I have a bit of a headache anyway.”
“Oh, no.” Nancy furrowed her brow and tilted her head to one side. “I hope you feel better soon.”
“I’ll come with you.” Nate put down his beer.
I had to get out of there. Alone. “No need. I’ll just lie down for a bit. See you later.”
Nate smiled and blew me a kiss. “Later, hon.”
“I’ll see you out,” Liam said.
“I’m fine.”
“I insist.”
As we walked away from the kitchen where Nate and Nancy had started talking about the abysmal winter and how they couldn’t wait for spring, Liam whispered, “God, Abby, this is a surprise, I—”
Zac came down the stairs, nodding his head to the music coming from his bright orange headphones. We watched him make the peace sign toward us before disappearing into the kitchen.
I spun around to face Liam. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He stared at me and held up a hand. “Hang on. I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’ve lived here. For years.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Are you sure?”
Liam exhaled. “Abby, please.”
“So why here?”
“Why are you being so hostile?”
I pressed my fingers over my eyelids until I saw stars, then looked at him again. “Why here?”
Liam ran a hand through his hair and lowered his voice. “Internal promotion at the bank. Nancy found the house. It was a good deal. She wants to redecorate and—”
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
He was so close to me now. I could barely stop myself from pulling him toward me. I stepped back until my shoulders touched the wall, hoping I might disappear into the garish paper. “You honestly didn’t know we lived here?”
“No, I didn’t. Christ, it was such a shock. When Nate said his wife’s name was Abby Sanders and that she was from Preston...well...I decided it couldn’t be you. Too much of a fluke, you know...” I blinked rapidly and he put a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything in there. It was a gut reaction.”
“I know. Me, too.”
Liam swallowed. “Should we go back and tell them? We could say we only just recognized each other.”
My eyes widened. “No,” I whispered. “That’s crazy. Not after...” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. “No.”
He leaned in a little closer. I could smell a hint of his aftershave. I wanted him to reach out and touch me, but instead he put his hands in his pockets and said, “It’s good to see you. Completely surreal and unexpected, but good.”
My shoulders dropped a little. “You can’t stay here, in this house.”
“Abby.” He smiled that bloody gentle smile of his. “We don’t have much of a choice. Whether we like it or not, we’re neighbors now.”
Head shaking, I said, “I can’t see you. I told you last time... And before when...when Tom...” My eyes filled with tears, and I willed them to dry instantly. I had to be strong. I couldn’t give Liam an excuse to comfort me, however much I wanted him to.
“Oh, Abby.” He looked at me. “You’re not even close to getting over losing Tom, are you? Even after all these years.” When I looked away Liam sighed. “Listen—”
My eyes flashed back to his. “No. You listen. We have to stay away from each other.”
“Hey...” The hurt in his eyes almost took my breath away and made me want to put my arms around him, hold him close and whisper I was sorry.
“Keep away,” I seethed instead as I glared at him and yanked open the door. Once outside I filled my lungs with gulps of crisp, cool air.
And then panic took over. I’d left my husband and daughter with my ex-boyfriend. Should I go back in, say I’d miraculously recovered from my headache? No. I couldn’t be in the same room as Liam. I’d told him to stay away, but they were just words. Words to convince myself the feelings spilling out of my heart weren’t real. But I knew him—all of him—inside and out, and he’d never say anything to Nate. He’d never say anything to anyone.
I ran back to our house—the one I shared with my husband—my heart pounding, and all I could think of was Liam. Liam. Liam. Liam. I tried to slow my breathing as I stepped inside and flicked on the light.
“Tom.” I looked up at the picture of my brother. “Oh, shit, Tom. What am I going to do?”
But all I got in return was his permanently youthful smile, and I imagined him shrugging and saying, “I don’t know, Shabby. You’re really fucked this time.”
THEN
ABBY
WHAT AN IDIOT. An absolute, dumb, stupid, moronic idiot.
Me. Not Liam.
We were five days into 1992. Five days since I’d met Liam at Rowley’s. Five days since he’d kissed me. Five days since I’d seen him. Five.
It may as well have been five hundred.
Lying in bed wrapped up under my blankets, I could still feel his lips on mine, his hands pressing into the small of my back, pulling me closer. The scent of his musky aftershave lingered on the scarf I’d worn that night, and I’d slept with it ever since. I closed my eyes as I nuzzled it, rubbing the fabric against my cheek. God, he was hot. But that wasn’t all—he was nice, too.
I wanted to call him. I would have if I hadn’t been such a dumb, stupid, moronic idiot. I’d said he should take my number. Insisted on it, in fact. Why? Because I was sure he’d phone? I shook my head. No. More like because I was sure he wouldn’t. If I didn’t have his number it meant I couldn’t call him. And if I couldn’t call him, I wouldn’t look like an imbecile when he made some crap excuse about not seeing me again, like “my dog died,” or “I’m running away to join the circus,” perhaps even “sorry I’m being abducted by aliens tonight.” I hadn’t heard all of those before, but a couple came pretty close.
“You’re so beautiful,” Liam had whispered after our first kiss at Rowley’s, and I couldn’t believe how genuine he sounded. But guys like him were never genuine. Everything about him seemed too good to be true, from his dirty blond hair that fell slightly into his gray eyes, to his apparent kind, gentle nature. He couldn’t be real. In my experience, guys like that always turned out to be phonies.
In any case, I’d already decided I wouldn’t be going home with him. If, if the chemistry between us turned into a long-term thing—and how, after knowing him for all of an hour, was I so sure it would—I didn’t want to be the girl who had sex on the first night. Quite a departure from my usual open-to-pretty-much-anything self.
He’d taken my hand, and we danced together in the corner, arms wrapped around each other, moving slowly even to the fast songs. We barely spoke. Nothing needed to be said.
“Hey, mate.” Dwayne had appeared next to us and put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “What the hell,” he’d yelled over the music, “are you doing with my girlfriend?”
“Your girlfriend?” Liam had shouted back, shrugging off Dwayne’s grip, towering over him and frowning. He took my hand and held it over his heart. “Sorry, mate. But you must be mistaking her for someone else.”
Dwayne’s eyes narrowed but he took a step back. Then he looked me up and down as his lips curled into a sneer. “You’re only doing this because I’m going to Thailand.” He turned back to Liam. “She’s all yours, mate.” He stomped away with the scent of another Benson & Hedges trailing in his wake.
Liam looked at me and shrugged. “Why’s he going to buy land?”
I laughed. And that was the moment I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble. I’d heard about love at first sight, feeling like you’d been struck by lightning, that it was meant to be and all those other clichés. I’d heard about it, but I’d never actually believed it. It was no secret I had trouble keeping hold of relationships—any kind of relationships—something my kid
brother pointed out on a fairly regular basis. But even he agreed he’d gone too far the last time.
“You’ve broken another guy’s heart? Jesus, Abby, I bet you’re like Dad,” Tom had said a few months back. “He’s probably on his tenth ex-wife by now. You two are destroying both sexes for the rest of us.”
I didn’t speak to Tom for a week. Not until he came over to my flat and apologized, groveling with two bottles of my favorite wine and a very large curry.
But now, here I was. Lying in bed in my little flat above the Kettle Club Tea & Coffee Shop. Almost five days after kissing the most handsome and interesting guy at the pub, wishing he’d call. And then the phone rang.
“Hello?” I held my breath.
“Shabby!”
I groaned. “Don’t call me Shabby, Tommy.”
“Then don’t call me Tommy, Shabby. I’m not three.”
“Okay, Golden Child, Oh, Chosen One.”
Tom made growling noises down the phone, and I grinned. Most of our calls started off this way.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“Lying in bed.”
Tom laughed. “You’re not still nursing your New Year’s Eve hangover, surely?”
I sighed. “No.”
“Still no news from eye-guy?”
“Nope.”
He sniffed. “Maybe his beer goggles wore off.”
“He wasn’t drunk.” At least I was pretty sure he hadn’t been. Oh, god. Maybe he had. Maybe he didn’t even remember me. Maybe—
“Well, in that case he must’ve thought you’re a rubbish kisser,” Tom continued, obviously enjoying himself. “What did you eat that night? Onions? Garlic? Snails?” I opened my mouth but couldn’t think of a clever answer quickly enough before he said, “Or I suppose he could have lost your number.”
“Yeah. Let’s go with that.” I rolled my eyes. “At least it’ll make me feel better.”
“You said his name was Liam? Short for William?”
“Yeah.”
“Jefferson.”
The words hung in the air for a while.
The Neighbors Page 3
