Chapter 30

VIVIANNE

The anger in my gut is gone. Instead, it’s laced through my veins, threading through every part of me.

“I just need to know what is going on with you.” Liam runs his hands through his hair, exhaling hard. “Viv,” he tries again, “you don’t want to be with me, but you don’t want me with anyone else?”

“No, Liam—” I interrupt. “Be with whoever you want. You’re a grown man, you don’t need my permission.”

I suddenly realize I’m standing there without pants, forcing myself to keep looking at Liam, who is realizing the same thing—his eyes running over my bare legs.

His attention snaps back to my face, and something I can’t quite name replaces the angry look he just had. His brow furrows, and he almost seems to shake as he spits the next words.

“No, you’re right. I am your boss. And more importantly, ~you~ broke up with ~me~. What has gotten into you?”

“Just leave me alone, Liam,” I say, not ready for this conversation—especially since he’s right.

What ~am~ I doing? This is his apartment. His bedroom. I could lose everything over this.

“So, just tell me,” he says, his voice rising. “What the hell is going on?”

His words light a fuse. I’m too angry to handle this without saying things I’ll truly regret.

One glance at the clock tells me I should leave.

I need space to cool off—away from his face and the questions I can’t answer.

Heading back into the bedroom, I shut the door in his face.

He throws it back open with a growl.

“Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again.”

His rage is barely contained. But I don’t care.

I pull off my shirt, keeping my back to him, and tug on a pair of high-waisted black jeans. I clip my bra, dig through my clothes, and slip into a loose gray tank.

Black jacket in hand, I finally turn to face him.

He’s blocking my way.

“Move,” I mutter, running on fumes.

He doesn’t.

“Move,” I say again, heat rising in my chest.

“You’re leaving?”

I don’t bother to answer him. I just try to push past him.

“No, Viv. You can’t just leave like this.” He grabs my arm.

I try to pull away, but he’s too strong.

“I’m not letting you leave when you’re drunk.”

His anger fades. So does mine. I relent, retreating to my bed to pout.

He stands in the doorway, arms crossed.

“How many have you had?” he asks.

For some reason, the question angers me.

I glare. “None of your business.”

He scowls.

He looks so much cuter without that look on his face.

“Very funny,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Would you tell me what the hell just happened?”

“Absolutely. You were being a dick.”

I drop my head onto the pillow and close my eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning.

Everything in here is his—the couch, the table, the TV. Even the bed I’m lying in. It’s all his…and I don’t belong her.

My stomach turns, making me feel sick. I don’t know if it’s the liquor or the truth.

I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut.

“I’m sorry, Viv,” he says, sighing. “I don’t know how to do this anymore. Things are so complicated now.”

I nod and sit up, pulling off my clothes again and slipping into my oversized T-shirt. When I settle back into bed, the pillows feel softer than they ever have.

Liam’s turned away from me, his shoulders tense.

“Can we do this tomorrow?” I grumble, curling up as sleep begins to take me.

***

When I wake, my head pounds. The dull throb makes it hard to think straight.

I roll and see a light blue Gatorade and two Tylenol on the nightstand.

I groan into the pillow, then force myself upright and take the pills with a big gulp of the Gatorade. I make a mental note to thank Liam—then remember the fight. My head pounds harder.

My phone buzzes, the sound sharp and grating. I wince and answer with a gravelly, “Hello?”

“Good morning. Do you plan on working today?”

Liam’s voice is crisp, not angry, and I can’t help but feel shame. My face heats up.

“Wha— I just woke up. Sorry. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I hang up before he can answer.

Something inside me feels off. Hollow.

It takes forever to get dressed. I pull my hair into a messy bun on the way out and skip my usual stop at Daily Grind.

“Morning,” I mumble to Jenna as I walk straight past to Liam’s office.

“You’re late,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

It stings. That smile. It’s too kind—but not kind enough.

I don’t respond. I grab a stack of folders from his desk, drop onto the couch, and open one, trying to force my mind off everything.

“Liam,” I begin, uncertain now about the whole agreement between us.

“Wait,” he says, lifting his hand. “I know—it’s been a little tense—”

“A little?” I cut in, raising a brow.

He just nods, conceding. “Okay, it’s been pretty tense between us. That’s my fault. But please, before you resolve yourself to ending this—” He gestures between us, and my heart stutters, caught between hope and fear.

Too late.

“—The rest of this,” he corrects.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

I look him in the eye, trying to keep my voice steady even as tears prick

Just being near him is hard.

When we’re in the same room, all I can think about are his hands—how they move, how they touch, how they make everything feel so real.

And how he used to look at me.

“We were doing so good together,” he says softly. “Everyone believes us. We were getting along great. You even handled Kimberly like a champ.”

There is a sad smile on his face, and it twists something in me.

I fumble for a moment, warring with myself, before I settle on the truth.

“We fell for each other. Really fell.”

He nods, meeting my gaze unapologetically.

“Do you think we can get it back? Our friendship?”

“Honestly? I don’t know, Liam.”

The thought makes my heart ache. His face mirrors it.

In the silence that follows, fear gnaws at me.

I watch as his features shift—raw, uncertain—before his face goes blank.

“I—”

He cuts himself off.

The sinking feeling returns.

He warned me from the beginning. I knew what this could cost.

And I’m the one who ended it.

“Viv,” he tries again, but I put up my hand.

“It’s fine. We’ll finish the contract and go from there. Okay?”

He nods, slowly studying me. Guilt plays across his handsome face.

I force all thoughts of him from my mind, trying to settle into work.

Then I hear him whisper—soft, almost to himself:

“But what if I don’t want it to end?”