Escaping Reality

the
    confrontation corner of the apartment. “What does he mean you almost bit
    the dust?” he demands.
    “I hadn’t eaten.” Truth.
    “You had another blackout.”
    “You’re being overbearing.” Another truth. I’m liking this
    confrontation so far. I’d like it better if it were after I opened the envelope.
    “Don’t be coy,” he warns.
    I deflect. “What was the ‘she’s with me’ thing? I’m not property,
    Liam.” I try to duck under his arm. He blocks me and I can feel emotions
    building inside me, ready to explode. I need to know what is in this
    envelope. “Let me pass. You’re being more barbaric than you are Prince
    Charming.” I can’t pull it back. It’s out and it’s like a rock landing at our feet
    and I try to cover it up. “You’re suffocating me. I need space.”
    It’s too late. Liam’s hands drop away as if I’ve burned him and there
    is no missing the petrified look on his face. My gut twists in knots. “Stop
    looking like one of your sharks just bit you.”
    I head to the bedroom and this time he lets me. He lets me. Damn it,
    I keep turning this into more than it is but he sends mixed signals. I don’t
    need or want Prince Charming. Okay, maybe sometimes I do. I don’t know
    anything anymore.
    I pause at the bed to grab my shorts and t-shirt I wore yesterday, and
    I both wish Liam would appear and pray he will not. Yep. That is how much
    of a tripped-out mess I am. And I lied again. I said I wasn’t looking for Prince
    Charming, but deep down, I know I’ve made Liam my hero. And I know how
    dangerous that is, for too many reasons to count.
    Glancing at the still-empty doorway, I head to the bathroom and shut
    myself inside, setting the envelope down on the sink and staring at it like
    it’s alive and will move. The possibility it might send me racing for another
    new location is too much to take. I can’t seem to make myself open it. I kick
    off my heels and tear my dress over my head, then stare at the envelope
    some more. It still hasn’t moved and I still haven’t opened it.
    “Just get it over with, Amy,” I whisper and reach for it, flipping open
    the flap and pulling out what appears to be a copy of my signed lease with
    a note attached. I w as in your neighborhood and Dermit wanted me to
    check on you and drop this by. Looks like I missed you.
    Call the office if you need anything. Luke Evernight. I should be
    relieved—this is not a warning or instructions to leave—but instead a
    frisson of unease slides down my spine and I’m not sure why. What is it that
    is bothering me?
    Abruptly the door behind me opens, and Liam is an unstoppable
    force. He lifts me and sets me on the counter, dislodging the papers from
    my hand in the process, and sending them flying to the floor. His arms
    frame mine, his hands on the surface by my knees.
    “Reality check, Amy. I never promised to be Prince Charming.”
    I flinch. “I told you. I’m not looking for a Prince Charming.”
    “I fuck and move on.”
    “You told me that, too. Stop saying it. I don’t want to hear it.”
    “The last time I had a long-term girlfriend was college, and she left
    me because she said I was self-centered, cold, and just wanted between
    her legs. And it was true. For all kinds of reasons, it was true. I am not a
    relationship guy.”
    “What do you want me to say, Liam? Please fuck me for a few days
    and move on? I didn’t even say that word before I met you. But fine, fine,
    fine! Fuck me for a few days and move on, but stay out of my business.
    Stop asking questions. Stop trying to change my locks and order me to go to
    the doctor and just stop. No barbarian routine unless it’s when we are
    naked.
    Period. The end.”
    He scrubs a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it. I’m not
    explaining myself well, which is a testament to how out of my skin you
    make me. My point is that I’m the one who’s on unfamiliar territory. When I
    saw your smartass neighbor look at you like he wanted to strip you naked, I
    had to fight the urge to throttle him. I have never felt that. Never.”
    “What? No. He—no.”
    “He wants you. I want you . I can’t walk away from you, Amy, and I
    have this sense that you could bolt at any minute. And yes, you’re right. I’m
    being barbaric. And intense. That’s who I am and I can’t be anyone but me.
    When I want something I go after it. And baby, I want you, and all I can say
    is you might be smart to run before I get any more