I walk through the front door dripping, shoes squelching, hair plastered to my neck, and Elizabeth Hart takes one look at me and says absolutely nothing for a full three seconds.Liam is on the couch beside her. His gaze travels from my face to my soaked shirt to the small puddle forming around my feet, and something in his expression moves — caught somewhere between concern and the very specific, private amusement of a man who is absolutely not going to say what he's thinking."Oscar," I explain, before either of them can ask."Of course," Elizabeth says, like this is a reasonable explanation for the state I'm in."I was helping with the bath. He shook." I gesture vaguely at myself. "This happened.""Go change," Liam says. Quiet. Easy. The tone of a man who is not worried about me but would like me to be dry.I head for the stairs.I'm halfway up when the front door opens again behind me. I turn.Adam walks
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