“He’s helped a lot.”

“I better bounce, but I’m glad you’re doing well. You look better too.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she winks.

I nod and she leaves. Aarabelle is taking her afternoon nap in her playpen. She ate and played for a little and now I have about an hour before she’ll need to eat again. I decide to hang the curtains in the living room that have been sitting in the closet for months.

Getting all my tools out, I grab the ladder and mark the spots where the new rod will go. I can do this. Take that, Martha Stewart. Once everything is up, I get the screw and it won’t go in. I try again and the screw falls and I fumble with the drill. “Damn it,” I curse as it falls to the floor. Grabbing the drill, I hear a laugh behind me. “Am I amusing you, Dreamboat?” I ask as I try to align the screw. I know using his call sign pisses him off . . . which is why I said it. Aaron used to lose his shit when I called him Papa Smurf.

“I think you want to wound me.”

“Never. I’m just . . .” I struggle with the stupid screw that refuses to go in. “Stupid damn drill is broken!”

“You have it set to reverse,” Liam says chuckling and he climbs the ladder behind me.

“Get down!” I yell as his weight makes the ladder tilt a little.

“Push that button there,” he says against my neck. “You’re not going to fall. I’ll be the one who breaks their neck.”

I suppress a shiver as he lifts my hand and pushes the back of the drill. “Fine, maybe I’ll elbow you,” I joke to try to keep my mind off how his body is pressed against mine. The body that I stared and marveled at. He’s only helping, Natalie.

“I’ll take you with me. Now, push hard and screw.”

I lose my grip on the drill. “That sounded so bad!” My head falls forward and we both laugh hysterically. “Oh,” I say as my stomach hurts.

“You made it dirty!”

“You told me to push hard and screw,” and I start laughing again.

Liam rests against me and we both try to control our breathing. “Okay,” he breathes again. “Now, make sure it’s aligned in the hole.”

“Oh, God. Get down. I can’t do this.” I giggle and snort.

“You snorted!” he says as he grips my hips and helps me off the ladder.

“You made me,” I reply incredulously.

“Well, put it in the hole and screw.”

“Stop!” I hold on to the ladder as tears fall from laughing so hard.

Liam keeps going. “If you don’t know how to put it in, I can help.”

We both laugh and I hear Aarabelle cry.

“Now you’ve done it,” my voice is full of humor.

Liam grabs the drill, “You get Aara, I’ll make sure you don’t have to re-plaster the walls.”

I clutch my chest and reply dramatically, “Oh, my hero.”

He gives a mock salute with the drill and I leave him to his power tools. Maybe he really is a miracle worker.

After a little while, Liam has all the curtains hung and a few pictures I found during my cleaning. Aarabelle plays happily in her swing.

“A little to the left,” I instruct Liam as he tries to align the photo.

“Here?”

“Ummm, maybe to the right? But just a smidge.” I laugh to myself as his head drops, clearly frustrated.

“Lee, I’m going to nail this to the ground if you make me move it again,” Liam grumbles as he moves it back to where it was originally.

I take a step back and try to keep from laughing because this is actually fun. “You know,” I muse. “I think maybe I should put it in the hall.” I bite my lip to keep from busting out.

He groans and puts the photo down. I hear him take a few deep breaths. When he turns, I bat my eyes innocently. “I’m going to let this sit here for a minute.”

“Oh, but I want to hang it.” I giggle and Liam bursts out with a loud guffaw.

“You’re a giant pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, but where else would you go for abuse?” I simper and shrug.

“Work.”

“True. I mean, they probably won’t call you fat or old . . . yeah, right, they totally will,” I tease, reminding him of our previous discussion.

“Take it back.”

I raise my brow. “Never.”

“Do you really want to brawl?”

“You’ll lose. I was trained.”

He breaks out into a run straight for me and I sprint toward the kitchen laughing. He’s going to kill me, but I can’t back down. I lean against the door hoping I can keep him from coming in.

“Why are you running, oh trained one?” he asks from the other side of the kitchen door.

Shit. I’m trapped.

“Liam, I want to remind you that I’m in possession of many sharp objects here in the kitchen.”

I hear him snicker once. “You forget, I’m trained in knife fighting.”

“Ugh. Okay, can I just say uncle?”

“Maybe,” he says but then nothing else.

After a few seconds of silence, I try to ask again, “Liam? Uncle.”

No response. I wonder where the hell he went. I hear Aarabelle over the baby monitor and know I can’t stay here forever. “Liam?” Again, no response. I have two choices. I can try to keep myself blockaded in here or I can grow some lady balls and face him. I can do this. I’ve given birth naturally, buried a husband, and still manage to function. Screw him.

Slowly I creep the door open and he’s not there. Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting. I take a step into the hallway and look around. These guys are stealthy and Aaron used to love to scare the crap out of me when I wasn’t expecting it. He’d hide behind doors and in closets then jump out so I’d scream.

“Liam?” I ask, trying to sneak toward the living room. When I turn, I see him holding Aarabelle with a sly smile.

“Saved by the baby.”

“I wasn’t scared,” I say confidently.

“Liar. But I’ll let you have it.”

I laugh and extend my arms. Liam hands me Aarabelle and I pull her close.

“I like that sound,” he says almost as an afterthought.

“Huh?”

Liam steps forward and brushes my hair back. “Your laugh. It took a while to get it to come back more.”

My jaw falls and I stare into his eyes. He’s brought me back . . . almost. Given me back my smile and I hadn’t even known it. Liam’s been here and managed to help the old me come out. “I . . .” I trail off unsure of what to say.

“I gotta get going, but I wanted to give you this. I found something in Aaron’s glove box.”

“What?”

Liam pulls an envelope out of his back pocket and his eyes tell me what it is. The If you’re reading this letter. When I didn’t receive one after he died, I assumed he shredded it when he got out of the Navy. Considering it’s usually left with your closest friend, and neither Mark nor Jackson had given it to me, I presumed. Then with Liam being around, I thought for sure Aaron threw it out, not thinking we’d need it. But here it is.