I woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee. Rolling onto my back, I stretched until my joints popped. The bed was warm. I could have stayed lying in the heap of blankets forever.

But the idea of breakfast was too compelling. I rummaged around in my drawers for a pair of clean underwear, then looked around for something easy to put on. My eyes landed on Liam's t-shirt, tossed haphazardly on the floor. A flush reddened my face.

That would be way too cheesy. Wouldn't it?

I debated with myself for a few minutes.

I swiped up the shirt and tugged it on. The hem fell just low enough to cover my important bits.

It smelled like him.

With pinked cheeks, I left the bedroom and padded over to the kitchen in bare feet. Liam was standing in front the stove in his boxers, spatula in hand. His soft hair was all messed up at the back, sticking up in all directions. He hadn't showered yet.

I came up behind him, careful to make shuffling sounds so I wasn't sneaking up. He turned his head just as I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my cheek against his broad back.

"Good morning," he said with a smile.

"Morning," I murmured back before letting out a yawn. "Coffee?" I asked expectantly.

"Are you one of those, can't function without caffeine types?" he asked, amused.

"Mmm," was all I said. It was too early in the morning to communicate in full sentences.

"I've made a pot over there," he said. "Hope you don't mind I made myself at home."

My only response was to squeeze him tight and place a kiss on his inked arm.

"Do you have any plans for the day?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"I have an idea for something fun we could do," he said.

Liam kept his tone light and casual, but I was suddenly abruptly awake.

"Like… a date?" I asked carefully.

He shrugged easily, but his shoulder muscles tensed up. "Sure."

"I'd love to," I said.

"Yeah?" he asked with a hint of relief.

"Did you think I'd say no?"

"We never really talked about…" he trailed off.

"Ooh, are we having The Talk?" I teased. I turned him around to face me. "I told you. I want you by my side."

Green eyes met mine, somber. "I want to make sure we're on the same page."

"You want to make this official?" I smiled. "I, Cerise Moreau, want you, Liam Knight, to be my boyfriend."

"Isn't this supposed to be the other way around?" His lips quirked up. "Shouldn't I be getting down on one knee?"

"Hold up now," I said. "You're not supposed to skip the entire book and go straight to the last page."

"I'm a patient man," he said, a sparkle of good humor in his eyes. "I can wait."

My heartbeat thumped heavily in my chest. He'd said those words before, and he'd proven them true. I'd put Liam through a lot of shit to get to this point.

I cleared my throat and took the spatula from his hand, taking over breakfast duties.

"So where are we going?" I asked.

"It's a secret."

"And are you that type of person?" I asked.

"What type?"

"The type who likes to keep secrets?"

His expression turned oddly pained. He turned and opened the fridge door.

"No," he said, his voice tight. "I hate secrets."

I'd been joking, but Liam had reacted strongly. I had to wonder how serious he was being.

"Did somebody throw you a surprise birthday party that backfired spectacularly?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He poked his head out from the fridge, looking confused.

"To hate secrets that much," I clarified.

His expression eased, until a small smile was playing on his lips.

"Nothing like that," he said. "I just don't like having things kept from me, that's all."

"Understandable," I said.

But the smallest hint of worry started to nag at me. I was keeping something from Liam. He didn't know about Harper. He didn't know what happened.

But was it really that important for Liam to know? My past was just that — the past. It had nothing to do with me and Liam right here and now.

"Bacon's ready," I announced.

We grabbed our coffee and food and perched ourselves on two bar stools at the counter.

"Sorry I don't have a proper kitchen table," I said.

"No worries." Liam looked around, taking in the rest of the apartment. "You've managed to do a lot with a small space."

"I read a lot of interior decorating magazines."

"Do you really?"

"No."

We shared a laugh.

As I sipped on my coffee, Liam nodded to one of my many bookshelves.

"Who's your favorite author?" he asked.

I had to think about it. "I guess I like Jane Austen the most."

"That's a good one."

"Yours?"

"Terry Pratchett," he replied without thinking. He jabbed his finger at the bookshelf. I looked to where he was pointing. "Is your favorite Sense and Sensibility?"

My lungs froze.

Because it was.

Harper had given me that exact book to me as a birthday present one year.

My entire body went eerily still.

Liam took it in his hand and opened the front cover. Something light and thin fell out. He picked it up between two fingers.

"You really have been friends for a long time," he said.

It was a photo. A photo of me and my friends back in high school.

It was a photo of me, Morris and Harper.

I suppressed the urge to snatch it away. I clasped my hands together in my lap.

He flicked his eyes to mine. "This is Morris, right?" he asked. "Who's the other guy?"

"H—" I faltered. My mouth went dry. I tried not to choke on the words. "That's Harper. We were all in a band together."

I waited for the gaping hole to open in my chest. Waited for ice to crystalize around my heart.

But as I waited, muscles locked and tensed, I realized something.

The gaping hole was no longer all-consuming. It was more like a small fissure. Bitingly cold darkness pricked at the edges of my ribcage, but didn't spread further.

It hurt, yes. Thinking of Harper still caused me pain.

But it was more distant now. It was like when I was on stage. I still felt it, but it no longer brought me to my knees. It no longer caused me unbearable anguish.

"How old are you guys here?" Liam asked.

"I don't know," I murmured. "I was maybe fifteen. The guys were a little older."

"You're cute as a brunette," he said. "You ever think of letting your hair go natural again?"

"No."

"Hm." He studied the photo. "So this is your first band?"

"Yeah."

"You were the singer and Morris played drums, right?" he asked. "Was Harper the guitarist?"

I nodded silently, not able to speak.

He glanced up at me when I didn't respond out loud.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Nostalgia," I lied.

"I don't know much about your past," Liam said, examining the photo. "But I'd like to."

I wasn't ready to tell him the whole story. But—

"Our band broke up a few years after that photo was taken."

"I'm sorry," he said. "That's always hard."

"It was." The fissure in my chest threatened to widen.

A slight frown crossed Liam's lips. "And Morris?"

"We—" I swallowed hard. "We drifted apart, actually. We grew up together, but until recently, I hadn't seen him in years. It was too hard, I think, for both of us. He left shortly after…" I stopped, not wanting to say it. "After the band separated."

Liam squeezed my hand. I squeezed back with a tight, shaky grip.

"So you lost your friend and your band at the same time," he murmured. "I get it. When my band broke up—" he shook his head. "They were my best friends. It was like losing family, you know?" Liam looked down at the photo again. "You were cute even back then. All innocent and wide-eyed, no makeup and messy hair."

"Luckily I've mastered the art of the smoky eye since then," I joked.

Liam cupped my face and swept his thumb under my eye. "I think that smoke's more of a raging forest fire."

I winced. "I probably look like a raccoon after last night, don't I?"

"A little bit," he agreed. He raised an eyebrow. "You want to go wash up together?"

"Is this an invitation for shower sex?" I asked, perking up.

He laughed. "You're so direct. You cut right through the bullshit."

"Is that bad?"

"No. I love it. It's refreshing."

"So that's a yes on the sex?"

His only response was to usher me out of the kitchen and into the bathroom with haste.