Comfort Zone (Awkward Love 4)

“Fine. Just keep an eye on her. And don’t let her out of your sight,” he warns.

“Come on, Grammy. Let’s get you into bed.” Liam takes her by the arm and tries to lead her away, but she resists. Her brow furrows as she glances around, her expression a mix of frustration and anger.

“What are you doing?” She glares at Liam. “I don’t understand why I’m the one getting yelled at. They’re the ones who wouldn’t follow the rules. Go yell at them.”

“Nobody is yelling at anyone,” he assures her, which is enough to get her moving.

I follow them to the elevator, feeling guilty about being disappointed that we were interrupted. As if he can read my mind, Liam smiles at me apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Becca. I have to keep an eye on her.”

He takes a deep breath and gives me a half smile as the doors open. They step in and turn around. I can’t look at Grammy or I’ll start laughing, because she’s glaring at me like I shat in her cereal.

“I was really looking forward to doing that room comparison, too.”

“It’s fine,” I say, giving him a half smile. “I understand—” I stop when the doors close abruptly.

Okay then.

My eyes dart up when they fling back open to Liam smirking and Grammy glaring at me.

“Sorry.” He winces. “She keeps pressing all of the buttons. Have a good night, Becca,” he adds, a wistful look in his eyes.

“I’ll do my best.” I glance at Grammy and smile, despite sensing I’m not her favorite person right now. “Good night, Grammy. I hope you sleep well, too.”

She glares at Liam and then me.

“Oh, I bet you do. You don’t think I know what’s going on, Missy? You want me to sleep well, so my grandson can sneak into your room later, for a good fuck—”

I burst out laughing as the doors slam shut. They don’t open again, but from the way Liam winked at me just before they closed, I know it was him this time.Chapter ThirteenBeccaI shut the door to my room, disappointed to be arriving back there, alone. But, it’s been a long day and tomorrow is going to be even worse, so getting some sleep isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I peel off my dress place it over the end of the bed and then I curl up under the covers. It’s late, so I think twice about calling Loz and send her a text instead.

Yawning, I close my eyes and for the first time in my adult life, I fall asleep without even thinking about it.Something strange happens the next morning; I wake up before my alarm goes off. Two hours, to be exact. I reach for my phone, still half asleep. When I see the frantic messages from Mom, I sit up and swing my legs out of the bed. My heart pounds as I call her. The words “emergency” and “call as soon as you get this” playing over in my mind. I’m not sure what I thought might be wrong, but I was expecting something a little more serious than Dad not being able to squeeze his foot into his new shoe.

“Mom,” I growl, cutting through her hysterical tears. “It’s a shoe. It will be fine.”

Five in the morning for this? Is she kidding me?

“It’s not just a shoe, Becca. This foot injury has changed him. This whole day is about us becoming one again, but what’s the point in all of that if things are regressing back to how they were?”

“What do you mean?”

I know I’m going to regret asking that.

“We haven’t had sex all week. I don’t think he finds me sexually attractive anymore. I’m pretty sure it was those nurses,” she adds in a hushed voice. “You should’ve seen the way they were fussing over him.”

“It’s their job.” I sigh.

“It’s their job to ruin my marriage?” Mom retorts.

I squeeze my eyes shut and do my best to pretend that it’s not my mother I’m speaking to, because if I don’t, this conversation is going to scar me for life. The only thing pushing me through this is that if this all falls to shit, it’s going to be me left here to explain to people why the party is off. The plan was for them to stay here last night too, but somewhere along the line, Mom ended up booking their flight for seven this morning.

“Mom. He broke his foot and nearly severed an artery. Can you blame him for not wanting to…be too active?”

“I know, but it’s not like he fractured his peni—”

“Mom.” I sit up in the bed, cradling my head in my hands wanting to both laugh and cry. “I…”

I groan and palm my forehead, letting my voice trail off. Words fail me, because what do I say to that?