Precise (22 page)

D
ing-dong
. I hope whomever is at the door isn’t anyone I know. I need to pick up Ella from school. Surely anyone who knows me knows this.

“Yeah, coming,” I call from my bedroom, loud enough to hear downstairs. I stand still for a moment, peering out of the window and feel the sun tingling on my skin. Hot enough, I decide, as I leave my cardigan behind and dash down the stairs with my keys and handbag ready to go.

“I’m really sorry but . . . ”

There they are. Liam grips Ella’s hand. Her blonde curls bounce on each shoulder as she skips on the spot, clearly delighted. As I check my wrist to make sure I haven’t skipped an hour, I’m confused.

“You’re not seeing things. I ran out of time on the weekend to take her shopping because of the last-minute interstate meeting. I arranged with her grade one teacher, Mrs. Richardson, to have her picked up early.”

“Oh.”

“Can Mommy come, Liam?”

“Only if she wants to, but remember what I told you before: she can’t come to the same shops as us.”

They share a sly wink.

“Hey!
She
’ll come along,” I say, locking the door behind me.

• • •

W
e go to The Hills Shopping Center. For the best part of an hour, I wander around aimlessly past retail stores and stop to peek when a flashy sign, piece of clothing or accessory catches my attention.

Eventually I feel the ringing in my bag, which signals the end of my desperately trying to pass the time. On the line is Ella’s voice. She rambles something about what a pretty pink “it” is. Her voice crumbles away when she mentions a present. Liam returns and laughs off her comments before describing where to meet up.

“Okay, how about we meet at the food court.”

“Done.”

Ella flings a gift bag into Liam’s hand before taking off. I see her leather lace-ups and then hear them stomping down the tiled walkway, even with the chatter, as she gains alarming speed.

I dive down and scoop Ella up onto my hip in one fluid motion—albeit heaving with the weight of her seven-year-old body. Liam catches up, poorly trying to hide something behind his back, which I figure is my gift.

“Did you know about this?”

“Um . . . ” Ella mumbles and then picks at a button on her school dress, attempting to conceal a drawn-half smile.

“How long?” I raise her body so that we share the same eye level.

She mumbles something again whilst scratching her temple and then digs her face into my t-shirt when nothing of substance comes to mind.

“Monday,” Liam says, pulling up by our side. “I called your nana’s place and we made up our plan, isn’t that right?”

Ella lifts her head and smiles enthusiastically in a now-I-remember eye roll.

“Over here,” Liam points. We move over to an empty table and Liam lays out two gifts. I stare at him sternly but he waves me off.

One of the gifts is in a silver and black gift bag, with silver string attachments forming handles. The other is in a similar bag, however the printed black and silver shades are inverted.

“Guys—”

“It’s your thirtieth birthday for crying out loud! You didn’t
actually
think we’d let you get away with it that easily, did you?”

“Happy birthday, Mommy!”

I blush, even though I saw the last-minute shopping and surprise coming. I can’t help but feel giddy. Liam leans into Ella’s ear and whispers something. She puts her hand on one of the gift bags, then looks to Liam and he gives an approving nod. She proceeds to slide it in front of me.

Excitement bubbles under my skin, however, I’m still feeling guilty because I don’t deserve presents for just a silly birthday.

Liam looks between the gifts and me. “We didn’t have enough time for a card. Sorry.”

“Don’t be silly. Ella, Liam, you didn’t have to buy me presents . . . but thank you.”

Liam grins. “Don’t thank us yet, there could be coal inside those bags.”

“No, Mommy. I promise there isn’t. It’s pink and—”

“Pink and nothing,” Liam corrects, before reminding Ella not to spoil my surprise and let me see for myself what she handpicked.

“Handpicked?” I remark proudly as I withdraw the little navy box, “Wow, I wonder—” my voice cuts out the moment the top-half springs open. I mean to say thank you, or some expression of gratitude, but for a moment the words won’t make sense aloud. The beauty of the earrings captures me. I dig my fingers into the pouch.

Two golden love hearts lie on white velvet backing. I drag my finger along the left side of each heart, which are adorned with pink stones. I pull the box in closer, marveling at the smooth curve of the right side.

“Oh, Ella, are they . . . ”

“Di—a—monds,” she sounds out. “I told you they were pink, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Elly, but it was mean to be a surprise,” Liam explains.

“Oh,” she says, embarrassment setting in.

“Liam,” I murmur through gritted teeth, “this is too—”

“Shush,” he interrupts, pointing to the other bag, “open the other one. That one is from me. I picked it to match the ones Ella chose.”

“Oh my, where do I start . . . I love the earrings!”

I lean down to plant a kiss on Ella’s cheek. Then with a grateful smile, I plant a kiss on Liam’s cheek. He smiles knowingly as I return to my second gift.

This one is big. It has the same navy blue color scheme and white velvet backing that clasps down the jewelry. The pendant inside shimmers brilliantly under the light.

The golden heart matches my former present perfectly. It curves on the right side of the heart and the left side sparkles with inset precious stones. It’s at least five times the size of the earrings sitting in the box by its side. I narrow the space between the boxes. The matching pendant and earrings lie side by side.

“Liam I . . . why did you . . . ” I stutter, my head spinning too fast to make sense. “Thank you, really.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just put them on, dummy. They’re no use in their boxes.”

“Yeah, put my ones on!” Ella joins in.

She says she’ll take the earrings out for me, and Liam and I watch intently as she fiddles and prods at the jewelry.

Eventually, she figures out how to squeeze off the backing clasp. She drops them in my palm, smiling so that I can see almost all of her teeth. I finger the hole in the lobe of my ear and poke through each earring as Liam removes the matching pendant from the box. I open up my gold chain around my neck to drop through and replace the old one instead with the new matching heart.

Ella bounces on her seat eagerly, almost toppling over.

Liam stares, only saying one word:
Gorgeous
.

The excitement that bubbles under my skin means that anything I try to say for the following half hour is stammered, or rolls out at lightning speed. Liam, within a short time, becomes pre-occupied with his phone as usual, so I suggest going home so he can get back to work.

“No,” Ella complains, her chin shriveling up. She isn’t ready to go yet, she whimpers, even as I insist that Liam is a busy man who needs to work. He retaliates against my assumptions and suggests Ella can play as long as she likes. My eyes roll tiredly, as I know I’ve been outvoted two on one.

Ella goes over to the kids’ equipment to burn off some of the extra energy she seems to have found. I tell Liam to hold the table for us as I go to open the childproof gate. The play equipment is cleverly designed, with bright colors, shapes, animal pictures and brightly colored rubber covering the flooring.

“Can I go now?” she says, already trying to slither out of my grip.

“One minute,” I say. Her face drops. “Not long.”

She props herself onto a chair by the side of the gates. I crouch on my toes, taking her hand in mine.

“Did Liam ring you from Sydney when you were at Nana and Pa’s?” I ask, staring into her bright blue eyes and tucking back a stray golden curl behind her ear.

“Yes,” she admits, staring at me for a while, her little fingers making swirls around the heart on my chest. “Hope I didn’t ruin the surprise.”

We both grin goofily at each other. After realizing she should be in the playground, she slides off her seat to run to a tall slide that twists around a cage of colored balls and a mini flying fox.

“Can I go?” she asks, turning around at the beginning of the rubber flooring and remembering that she forgot to ask first.

“Yes, you can. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

How odd. Ella confirmed my thought, but I still don’t know what to make of it. Why is Liam putting so much effort into this? Why has he wasted so much money on me? I mean, he almost forgot about my birthday when I turned twenty-five. And twenty-six.

Liam is still flicking through his phone when I sit down at the table. He looks up and digs it in his pocket.

“I’m glad you liked your presents. I’m sorry I didn’t buy anything earlier.”

“Just your style.”

“I guess so.”

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” I say, shaking my finger at him. “Something to do with
killing
you!”

“Really now,” he grins, crossing his arms over the table and leaning in. The muscles under his shirt tense as he shifts his weight.
Ugh.
He’s ready to mock my protests. I can’t help but tell him off through a wide smile as he stares goofily.

“As if you really let her pay for my earrings. They’re too
much, so we both know that’s a lie. Then you go and buy a matching necklace! I swear, you’ll send me to my grave early,” I say, trying to tell him off, yet it sounds more like praise. “I guessed you were shopping for something to do with my birthday, but I didn’t imagine that you’d go and waste all your money on me.”

“Not true. She wanted to put in some of her pocket money. I wasn’t going to let her, but,” Liam leans in, stealing my breath, “the girl has a will as strong as her mother’s.” He sits back, perhaps realizing how close he was. Again.

I shake my head, remembering how exquisite they were, packaged in their little boxes, sparkling. I have around a grand’s worth of jewelry resting between my ears and the cavity where my collarbones meet. I doubt he let Ella’s contributions take part anymore than a few dollars of that sum.

A feeling grows inside me. I try batting it away by thinking how long we’ve been friends, and everything we’ve been through, but it only serves to knot my insides further.

This isn’t good.

Liam seems blissfully ignorant to my protests as he sits tall, his broad shoulders shaping his triangular figure which overhangs the small swivel chair underneath him.

“You’re spoiling the moment, Kates. Enjoy your present. Ella and I both know you deserve it. You look absolutely gorgeous in them,” he says, beaming.

“You’re right; they’re gorgeous but it doesn’t mean you didn’t waste too much money.”

“
Spend
,” he corrects.

I fluff my hand in the air indifferently.

“I really meant what I said,” Liam tells me, holding my gaze.

I look around, oblivious to the comment I should have caught. “And that was . . . ”

“The jewelry looks gorgeous on you,” he mutters, flicking off gunk from the table before looking back. “Actually, it’s you who makes the earrings and pendant look as amazing as they do.”

He stares with those same, still eyes. I’m not sure what he wants to hear, so what am I meant to do?

“Oh, wearing your heart on your sleeve for once I see. That’s very kind of you.” I squeeze his hand as thanks.

To my surprise, he squeezes me back. I wait for the shift or the blur I might see too late. I expect a slap, a laugh, a prank.

Nothing.

A few seconds pass and we still clasp each other’s hands. His eyes are fixated on mine. They are warm and inviting, the blue sea of his eyes captivating yet too intense to hold.

I feel a tickle stroke down my index finger. Liam’s eyes are still, almost as if someone else has made the movement. I can’t make out what he means by this touch.

Then he does it again. My finger tickles, as he strokes his skin along mine.

I don’t want to look down. I think I know what is happening. I don’t want to be spoilt, even if it is a milestone birthday. If I look at our hands, they’ll tell a different story to what I need to believe. An image like that, the crossing of a line that can’t be undone—it’s a mighty thing to have stuck in my head.

A kiss. I can hear Nancy telling me why a frickin’ little finger rub, hand holding, matters when we’ve already been further than this, already crossed the line as “just friends”. It matters. The first kiss was PTSD Kates, spiraling out of control, hands flapping about for purchase onto anything that would stop everything spinning so fast. For help. The second was Kates at her very lowest when she found someone to care for her, just in that very moment.

This isn’t a kiss. A touch like this is deliberately sending a rational, clear-headed message: I want more than kisses stolen once every few months.

Curiosity gets the better of me before I can stop myself, and I look down, see the proof. Our fingers intertwine and he rubs his other set of knuckles along my skin like a snake sliding along a marble floor. I feel watched. I know he’s waiting for the inevitable, our gaze to lock. It’s a signal that we both understand the terms. The eyes can’t lie.

Questions flood my head. How long has he felt this way? Has he betrayed Paul all the years of their friendship and our marriage? I feel hot all of a sudden. How can I have let this happen?

Our friendship evolved since my recovery. We’ve mended and grown closer. That should have been it. But even that lie doesn’t fool me. I’ve seen his hints; shit, I gave the hints in my kisses. I know what my thoughts have been, even if fleeting. It’s my fault I didn’t work up the courage to stop him earlier.

Then I think. Why didn’t I stop him months ago? Lay out my feelings?

All this time.

This is my fault. I’ve betrayed Paul.

I think, “What are you . . . I don’t get . . . Explain.” These words don’t come out. I also ask a bazillion other questions. Nothing comes out.

“Kates . . . ” With the hand not holding mine, Liam picks up my jaw and nudges it shut. He caresses my lips. “You’ve got drool.” He points to the side of his lips by way of demonstrating. “Right there.”