The Coldest Summer✓

Sixty-two

"I was raised by Eleanor since I was three," Liam tells me in a low, memory-glazed voice. "My real mother—Alyssa—was an actress."

"Wow! An actress?" I smile weakly, amazed.

"A stage actress, to be precise. She performed in theaters all over Europe and America." Liam looks at me with a faint smile, his memories seemingly bittersweet. I only listen, a smile lingering on my face. "Because of that I had to stay with aunt Eleanor and her late husband, who's now father; for I don't really know who my real father is," he utters painfully, a furrow between his eyebrows.

How horrible. My poor Mr. Intense.

"And . . . and what else?" I'm eager to hear more about his biological mother.

"Nothing much," Liam says after a sigh, seemingly a bit disconcerted to talk about this matter. "That was the first vacation I spent with my mother. We went places, and it was also my first time visiting America as well. She was in a rush to reach San Francisco that day. She had a concert in a few days."

"Oh?" I smile and run my hand over his.

"You once asked if I was a fan of Shakespeare?" he asks with a playful smile, taking me back to some moment in Montana—right inside his home library. I nod my head. "Well, I'm not quite fond of his works, but my mother was. I recall reading those books because I heard they were his favorite reads."

Right. Now I get it.

"But you've also taken your liking to him, no?" I try to ease the friction. Liam laughs, and slowly urges me to move back to his side, which I relent like a child.

"You're crazy," he utters.

That I am.

"You miss her a lot, don't you?" asks softly, and he holds me tightly, kissing my hair.

"Sometimes I do," Liam answers. "But I can't complain. After all, I still have an amazing woman for a mother and it's like life gave me two mothers from the very beginning." His eyes gleam. "I also had Charles Darcy for a father, and he took care of me like his own son, which I'm forever grateful."

"Indeed, Liam. If you think about it, you have so many reasons to be grateful and happy," I tell him.

We talk and talk for more than an hour, cuddling up on the floor with our backs against the bed. He tells me more about his vacation and how happy he was, and my smile resumes full time knowing he learned to swim for the first time during that trip.

Finally we decide to get up and go see Mrs. Eleanor. I quickly get myself ready and slip into a pair of flats while I fix my hair, then I apply a little concealer to cover the terrible after-crying look on my face.

We take my Old-Benny, and slide on the road to Beverly Hills. In less than half an hour, I pull over outside Four Seasons Hotel, and stay put for a while. Mr. Intense stares at me, with a mixture of incredulity and a little bit of joy, and then asks if I'm okay.

I just smile and whisper, "More than okay. Shall we?"

"Hmm," he hums softly.

Every second that goes by, my heart pace keeps accelerating. I wonder how Eleanor will take this. Will she be happy? Or mortified from the fact that I'm the new trigger for their old scars to manifest the pain they'd rather forget? I'm undecided for now, and a little scared.

I feel Liam's hand taking mine, and a reassuring smile from his lips tells me it's going to be fine. "Stop thinking whatever you're thinking," he says as we approach the door.

He needs to stop reading my mind.

I flush. "Okay."

"And I don't have superpowers, Ms. Jones. I can just imagine your thoughts from several features of your body." His smile is cajoling now.