With a long, concerned look at Liam and Gabrielle, she allowed herself to be led out. There was no viable reason for her not to go.
Gabrielle knew her friend didn’t want to leave her alone with Liam. Marie had her back. And she needed her to. But they couldn’t very well explain that to Burton. Most particularly not in front of Liam.
Liam was going to go back upstairs. It was the natural thing to do. He’d expect her to follow. Their business had been interrupted.
She didn’t trust herself to be up there alone with him. Until she knew that whatever was in that envelope addressed to Liam was not unfriendly, she had to assume that it was. That danger might be escalating against him.
And she was falling for him. Tensions were high. Something could happen to him.
Before she ever knew what it would feel like to be held by him.
“Can we sit for a minute?” Her tension must have shown on her face as she blurted the words.
One glance at Liam’s expression told her that.
Until the past few weeks he’d been like a brother to her. Always. She’d been immune to his good looks. To his manliness. And now she wasn’t. The irony of that, in light of what she was about to tell him, didn’t escape her.
He took a seat.
Gabrielle pulled a thin file out of her briefcase. She placed it in front of him.
And then sat.
He didn’t touch the file. “Tell me.”
She nodded toward the file. “I think you should look at it.” She’d been trying for hours and just couldn’t figure out a way to tell him.
Her job had always been to pick up the pieces. Not to cause him to shatter.
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And she’d never felt the pieces so personally.
Liam crossed his arms.
He could also be stubborn and pigheaded. She used to get frustrated sometimes when he did that. Now all she wanted to do was pull him to her. To kiss him until nothing else mattered.
So she reached into the file without fully opening it. Pulled out a photo.
Placed it in front of him.
Gabrielle had been touched by the sheer natural beauty of the teenager smiling up out of that picture. She had Liam’s blond hair, though hers was a shade lighter. His blue eyes, too. But her features were more round. Much softer. He stared. Frowned. Shook his head.
“Have you ever seen her before?”
“Of course not. Who is she?”
“She’s your half sister.” Wow. Never in all of her rehearsed scenarios had she just blurted out the news like that.
He pushed the photo away. Shook his head again. “There’s been some mistake,” he said. And then, arms on the table, he leaned toward her. “Come on, Gabrielle. You know my entire life history.”
She couldn’t hold him. So, heart crying inside, she said, “Her name is Tamara Bolin. She’s fourteen. A freshman in high school. She’s on the swim team and has a four point zero GPA.”
Chin jutting, Liam looked at the picture from the distance he’d given himself from it. His hands, still on the table, were trembling. Gabrielle had the urge to cover them with her own.
And didn’t feel as out of the world as she had when the urges had first started happening. She couldn’t begin to accept them. To let them feel...normal. She and Liam didn’t touch like that. Not with...that kind of emotion attached...
“She lives in Florida.” Gabrielle kept talking because she didn’t know what else to do. The empty coffee shop felt suddenly like a morgue with most of the lights off. There was more. A lot of it. He’d ask when he was ready. For the next several minutes Gabrielle sat silently. It was what friends did, she told herself. They sat in the fire with you. Hurt for you.