Chapter 27

VIVIANNE

“Okay, I’m getting ready to go. Do you want Thai, Chinese, or pizza for dinner?” I ask, hand resting on the doorknob.

“Ooh, definitely Chinese,” he says, grabbing his shoes and sitting on the sofa to put them on. “Put it on my card, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. And tell my mom I said hi, will you?”

There’s a beat—just long enough to remember the silence on the car ride home, the weight of everything unsaid.

“Okay. See you after work.” I step out the door, pulling it closed behind me.

Steph texted me the address about ten minutes ago. I recognized it—it’s the same place where I usually get my nails done.

I guess she wasn’t kidding when she said she wanted to spend the entire day pampering ourselves and bonding.

I assumed it would be a thinly-veiled interrogation—more questions I would have to dodge, more digging into parts of my past that I don’t want to share.

Who knows—maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll care more about my present than my past. But mothers usually want the full story when it comes to their kids, no matter how old they get.

“Ah, Vivianne,” she says, stretching out her arms. We kiss cheeks, and she loops one arm around my shoulders, ushering me into the salon.

“Thanks for agreeing to spend the day with me,” she says, smiling as we head to the polish rack.

Right away, she grabs a plum shade with a killer shine. She walks over to the desk as I look for my own color. I’m torn between two—a pretty blush or a bold navy.

I hold both up, turning to show her. She steps over, eyes the bottles, and gently takes them from my hands.

“May I?” she asks, already turning toward the rack.

“Of course,” I say with a nod.

She swaps my choices for a dusty rose and hands it to me. “This will complement you nicely, dear.”

Then she returns to the counter to speak with the receptionist. A moment later, the woman waves us back to two chairs.

We sit, and she turns on Steph’s footbath, then mine.

“Unscented, rose petals, or lavender?” she asks, testing the water with her hand.

“Uh, rose petals, please,” I say with a smile.

We lean back while the staff works on our nails and feet.

“You look tired, dear,” Steph says, her eyes knowing.

“I am.” I can’t help but laugh so I don’t cry.

“It gets better. Stryder men are tough to deal with. But the love—” She says fondly, “It’s unlike anything else.”

“Mr. Stryder?” I snort. “Sorry, I just… I’ve seen him a few times now, and each time I think I dislike him more.”

She laughs. “James will do that. But I swear, they love fiercely.” She’s still smiling. “I know you know what I’m talking about. I see the way you and Liam look at each other.”

“Then why did you leave him?” I ask.

“There were a few reasons. I probably would have stayed, even as unhappy as I was. But I discovered myself, and there was no reconciling those differences.”

“What differences?” I ask, hoping for some magical answer of what I should do.

“Well, for starters, he’s a man,” she says. “If I hadn’t left him, I wouldn’t have met my wife.” She smiles, love lighting her entire face.

“He’s also very difficult to get along with. Always bossing people around, with no regard to their feelings.”

Last night pops into my head—Liam’s lack of consideration for what I might want.

I sigh. “Why does it have to be so complicated?”

“It doesn’t. Usually it’s us who make it complicated.”

Is it? Am I the one making it complicated?

Steph made small talk for the rest of the appointment, and I didn’t mind it. She was so lively and didn’t ask too many personal questions. It made me feel like I could trust her. Maybe a little too well.

When we finish our mani-pedis, she insists on paying. I try to protest, but she just shushes me.

“Get used to it—just for today.”

We walk to a nearby spa, where we’re taken back right away. She already booked the platinum package: facials, massages, mud baths, and full-body treatments. It even includes endless champagne, a full meal, and snacks.

It’s amazing. Luxurious. I feel like a princess—like I never want to wake up. It has to be a dream; it’s just too good to be real.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I say, peeling back a slice of a cucumber to peek at her.

“Of course, dear,” she says with a sigh. “Now tell me—what kind of torture has my son forced you to endure?” She chuckles.

“Torture? None. He’s a wonderful man.” I can’t stop the sad smile that follows.

Thoughts of the future drag me into a whirlwind of doubt.

What will happen if I stay?

We’ll keep this up until he gets tired of me—until he no longer needs the image he’s built.

Then he’ll get rid of me and go about his business.

For him, nothing changes. He goes back to being the single CEO of a multibillion-dollar company with women throwing themselves at him.

Me? I’ll have the money to stay, but my heart will break—it already aches at the thought of losing him.

I’ll still have all the problems waiting back in Pennsylvania, only now I’ll be facing them while trying to get over him.

And if I go? I’ll still lose him. I’ll lose any chance at whatever good might come from this.

But the scarier thought?

What if it ~does~ work?

No. It won’t. This is a losing game. We’re from completely different worlds.

“Are you okay, dear?” Steph asks, breaking through to me.

I clear my throat, pulling myself from those thoughts.

“I’m fine. Just thinking. More like overthinking, really.”

It’s not a lie. And that feels surprisingly good. Everything lately feels like a lie, and I’m tired of pretending.

Less than two months and I’ll be free of all this. But for now, I’m stuck covering Liam’s ass—which, while is a nice view, is exhausting.

“Is everything okay with you two?” she asks, her voice light but her eyes sharp—like she could see right through me.

“Yeah,” I say. “We’re both just really stressed with work right now, and—”

“I know exactly what you’re talking about, dear,” she says, leaning back with a sigh. “Liam’s father never had the time of day for me.

“It was always about that damn company. Lord knows how much those boys can lose themselves in the job.”

She chuckles, but there’s something bittersweet in it.

“Yeah. How did you do it?”

“I busied myself a lot of the time. Found things to fill my day with.”

“How did you handle it when you realized that you weren’t on the same path?” I hope my question doesn’t give me away.

Her face shifts, for just a second

“I should have handled it differently. I knew long before I left. I should have been honest—maybe we could have worked something out.”

She exhales softly. “We loved each other, but now we can’t stand to be in the same room.”

I stare down at my hands. “We’re in such different worlds, and I don’t know if either of us fits in the other’s enough.”

The words settle heavy in my chest. A part of me wishes it weren’t true.

Steph’s lips draw into a sad smile. She reaches out and touches my hand gently.

“Don’t give up on him,” she says, her voice quiet but certain. “I see the way he looks at you. Just give him some time. Talk to him.”

***

After the spa treatment, I thought we’d be done. We had lunch—and then some—but Steph wasn’t ready to call it a day.

She insisted we go shopping.

“My daughters never let me do this,” she says, piling clothes in my arms with a gleam in her eye.

No one bats an eye as she adds more and more to the growing stack, threatening to bury me.

By the time we leave, I’m exhausted—but in the best way.

Steph has been so kind and generous, treating me like one of her own.

After today, she will always hold a special place in my heart.

But somewhere between the spa, the stories, and all the shopping bags now weighing down my arms, something settles inside me.

A quiet truth I can’t ignore.

Liam and I are in different places.

We come from different worlds, and we’re heading down different paths.

As much as I’ve tried to meet him where he is, I’m starting to see that some gaps can’t be closed—not right now.

Not when I’m trying to navigate a world my momma doesn’t live in anymore.

Not when he’s so focused on whatever this thing with his father is.

This relationship started as a lie, and as much as we’ve tried to make it real, there’s just too much in our way right now.

He’s rooted in a life I don’t fully understand, and I’m still trying to find solid ground in mine.

I sit with the feeling for a minute, turning it over.

I’m not angry, just…sad—the kind of sadness that comes from finally accepting something you don’t want to admit.

I have to tell him. Gently, honestly.

This version of us—the ~real~ us—can’t keep going.

Not right now.

But if he still wants my help, I’ll play the part. Because even if we’re not right for each other, I still care. I still want him to succeed.

I just hope he’ll let me.