Chapter 15

VIVIANNE

The morning sun filters through the curtains, warm but deceptive. The weight in my chest hasn’t lifted since last night. I lie still, staring at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of the house coming to life.

Distant voices, the clinking of dishes, the hum of morning routines.

Beside me, Liam shifts in his sleep, his breathing slow and even. For a moment, I envy how easily he seems to rest, as if the heaviness of last night didn’t follow him into today.

I resist the urge to reach for him, instead slipping quietly out of bed. The cold floor is shocking against my bare feet.

By the time I get dressed and step into the hall, I’ve managed to push the worst of my thoughts aside—at least for now.

The day passes in a blur. At the country club, Liam and his dad play tennis, their movements swift and controlled.

Kimberly perches among other trophy wives, their laughter sharp as they gossip and make cruel remarks about anyone who passes.

I was invited to join, but I find myself repulsed by their behavior.

I make an excuse and slip away.

The sun is relentless overhead, the scent of freshly cut grass thick in the air. I wander for a while, letting the chatter and clamor of the club fade into the background.

Dinner back at the cabin is a little less tense. The scent of roasted meat and buttered veggies lingers in the air.

Liam has come out of his shell some and actually seems to be enjoying himself.

“Vivianne,” Kimberly’s too-sweet voice catches my attention. “We’re going shopping tomorrow, just the two of us.”

She announces this with a beaming smile at Mr. Stryder, who gives her an approving nod.

“Okay, sure, as long as you don’t mind,” I say, looking at Liam, hoping he’ll tell me not to go.

“No problem. My father and I are just going to spend the day at the club again tomorrow,” he says instead.

I nod and smile at Kimberly, gulping before excusing myself from the conversation.

The air feels a little stuffy in here anyway, and I take a big breath as I head toward the stairs.

I’ve just rounded the corner, almost to Liam’s room, when I hear Nan call out for me.

Stopping, I turn around and take a few steps back, meeting her halfway.

“Hey, Nan. How are you today?” I smile at her, and when she smiles back, something in me cracks.

“I’m fine, sweetie. But you? You need something,” she says, matter-of-factly.

“Me? No, I’m fine, really.” A knot forms in the pit of my stomach.

“Come with me, dear.” She grabs my hand and leads me downstairs—past the dining room and into the kitchen.

The room is huge. Bright white cabinets line the walls, and a large island sits in the center with barstools tucked beneath it.

Nan motions for me to sit at the island as she moves around it.

I do as I’m told, watching her. She grabs two bowls, two spoons, and a tub of ice cream, setting them on the counter.

I look up at her, surprised, as she starts to dig ice cream into the bowls.

“What’s going on, dear?” she says, passing me a bowl and a spoon.

I hesitate, but she seems to understand. “They’re not finished eating yet, and when they are, they’ll all head upstairs. This is a safe space.”

Her eyes are so sincere, and my emotions are a tangled mess.

I can’t keep lying. I can’t keep pretending I’m fine. I’m exhausted, and guilt is suffocating.

I meet her gaze, the intensity searing through me.

And I tell her everything. About the contract, the job, and what happened with Mr. Stryder.

I tell her about moving in together and my real feelings for Liam.

I tell her how my friendship with Jenna is stronger now.

I spill my guts to her, and the entire time, she just sits there, listening.

When I’m done, she doesn’t even hesitate. She just looks me square in the eyes and says, “Deary, you’ve gotten yourself in some deep shit.”

My jaw drops open, and I can’t help but laugh.

By the time I leave the kitchen, the house is quiet. The weight of the day settles over me like a heavy blanket, exhaustion tugging at my limbs. I climb the stairs slowly, my mind still reeling from everything I just confessed to Nan.

When I reach Liam’s room, I’m not sure whether I should knock or not.

It feels strange to hesitate when we already live together.

I reach for the knob, push the door open, and peek inside.

I step inside and slip my heels off, the cool wood floor soothing against my aching feet.

Slowly, I walk farther into the room. Then I see Liam, lying in bed asleep, his arm outstretched over my pillow.

My breath catches.

I sneak into the closet and slip off my dress, pulling on my PJs. The fabric is soft against my skin, familiar and safe.

Standing at the end of the bed, I debate waking him, but I don’t want the look of peace on his face to ever fade.

Instead, I crawl into the bed beside him.

As soon as I settle under the blankets, he shifts, his warmth enveloping me as his arm drapes over my middle.

My stomach flips, and I have to fight the urge to snuggle closer.

Slowly, I let myself relax and let the tension of the day drain away.

It’s not long before I drift off to sleep.

***

When I wake, I immediately feel the weight settled at my midsection.

I stretch, groan softly, and turn my head.

Liam’s eyes flutter open, and a sleepy smile spreads across his face—until he realizes his arm is still draped across me.

His smile fades slightly as he pulls away.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, slipping out of bed.

I try hard not to feel offended by how quickly he retreats.

Sliding out of bed, I head to the bathroom and turn on the shower.

Warm water spills over me, and I lean into it, running my hands through my hair.

Goosebumps rise on my skin, a shiver trailing down my spine.

I drag a hand down my body, my breath catching as pressure pools low in my belly.

My fingers move on their own, tracing from my collarbone—pausing, lingering.

A haze of lust clouds my thoughts, and I surrender to it.

I let my hand drift lower, my fingers circling over my clit.

Liam’s face flashes through my mind—his touch, his body.

The pressure builds, heat coiling deep inside me. The water, the thoughts of him—it all blends into something heady, overwhelming.

I brace a hand against the wall, my other fingers working in a steady rhythm. My eyes squeeze shut.

In my mind, Liam’s body moves against mine. Hip lips ghost over my skin. His hands mapping every inch of me.

My fingers slip inside, teasing, while my other hand gently plays with my nipple.

I tip my head back, lips parting as my pleasure heightens.

More flashes of him consume me—Liam above me, kissing down my body. His head between my thighs. Liam resurfacing, then plunging into me. My name whispered from his lips.

The tensing tightens, and my muscles start to contract, the pleasure unraveling like a slow burn that spreads through every part of me.

I go still, riding the last waves of my release, a satisfied smile tugging at my lips.

My eyes flutter open—

And my stomach drops.

Liam.

Liam is standing there.