It makes me wonder what he saw in me ten years ago. The answer is obvious, of course: he was slumming it. Taking advantage of the first woman he’d seen in over a year.
“You okay?” Liam asks, his tone turning surly.
This is the second time he’s caught me staring off in their general direction. I’ve become quieter and quieter throughout the meal. I’m surprised he noticed, actually. Somewhere between the biceps routine and the stories of his college drinking days, I lost the thread of the conversation.
“I’m fine. It’s just been a long week.”
“Has it?” he grumbles. “It seems every time we have a date, you’ve had a bad day or a long week.”
“A little more alcohol might help you loosen up.”
“I’m not a very loose person these days,” I mumble. “With or without alcohol.”
He doesn’t even bothe
