Chapter 31

VIVIANNE

“Ready?” Jenna cuts through my thoughts, handing me a coffee.

Liam and I have settled into a new normal—on that feels more natural since the fight.

We don’t talk about where he goes or whether he’s coming home, and he doesn’t offer anything either.

“For what?” I ask, clearing my throat.

“Our day out of the office, duh!” She grabs my arm and pulls me toward the door.

I glance back. Liam stands stiffly at his desk, watching us go.

I do my best to push him from my head.

“I need a dress for Mr. Stryder’s Thanksgiving dinner,” I mutter, trying to drag myself out of the perma-funk that’s settled over me this week.

“Okay, good. It’s good to have goals.” Jenna smiles wide, linking her arm through mine.

We skip the nail salon and head straight to a boutique.

After looking through the entire store, I try on a few options—nothing too flashy, nothing too bare.

“So, what’s going on?” Jenna asks, pulling me into the fitting rooms with an armful of dresses.

“What do you mean?” I sigh, slipping into the first dress.

“You and Liam. Sulking around the office the past couple of weeks—it’s weird.” She crosses her arms, frowning.

“It’s…complicated. We were okay, but after Momma died, I just…” The words won’t come. I’m not entirely sure what happened.

She glances at the next dress. “The colors are pretty, but it makes you look frumpy.”

I roll my eyes and turn back around.

“I don’t think we were ready to be real yet. I was still so raw from losing Momma. And Liam’s father…his step-monster…” I trail off, stepping out in another dress.

“Okay, so? None of that sounds like a reason to break up with him. Not after hearing how great he is every time we hang out.” She raises a brow.

“I don’t like this one,” I mutter, turning. “Liam’s great, really. A little stuffy, but great. I just don’t know if it would work.”

“That’s the whole point of dating, Viv,” she says, chuckling. “You don’t know unless you try. And from what I’m hearing, Liam’s the only one who tried.”

Her words hit hard, the truth of them chilling.

Eventually, Jenna finds a deep red dress and a black cardigan that feels just right. Not too much skin, not too plain.

“It’s too late now,” I say, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror. “He’s gotten himself a real girlfriend.”

The words taste sour in my mouth.

Jenna moves behind me.

She pulls my hair back, piling it up to mock an updo, and I watch her carefully as she deliberates before spreading the hair out on my shoulders and shaking her head.

“Girlfriend-shmirlfriend.” She shrugs. “You had dibs.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy.” I stare at her in the mirror, trying to sort through my feelings. “What about you? What are your plans?”

“What plans?” She laughs. “I like working at Stryder Corp. I like it even more since you started, and Liam lightened up. Everyone’s been talking about it lately.” She casts me a knowing look as I move back to the dressing room.

The rest of the afternoon slips by in a blur of window shopping and easy conversation. For a few hours, everything feels light again.

But the second I walk through the door of the penthouse, the weight returns.

Liam is sitting on the couch, a bag packed and ready beside him.

My stomach clenches.

“Hey.” I look at him, trying to read his expression.

“I have to go. Last-minute work thing. I’ll be gone a day or two.”

Doubt circles my mind. I don’t trust his answer.

~Is he going to see her? ~

“Okay.” That one little word betrays everything I’m trying not to feel. “But I thought we were going out tomorrow night. I mean, it’s your birthday.”

He studies me. “You could come with me, if you want. We can get a cupcake or something.”

I think—just for a second—I see hope in his eyes.

“Okay, let me get packed,” I say, already heading into my room.

I throw a week’s worth of clothes into my suitcase, pack my toiletries, and meet him back in the living room. He’s still sitting there, waiting. Watching.

Questions swirl in my head. Why not take Beth? Why me?

He doesn’t say where we’re going, and I don’t ask. I figure if it mattered, he’d tell me.

We head to the airport and board his jet to California—the only clue he’s given me to where we’re going.

Outside the jet window, the sun sinks low on the horizon, casting the cabin in a soft orange light. The hum of the engines is steady, but my thoughts are anything but.

I shift in my seat, heart thudding louder than it should. The leather beneath is warm from my body, but my hands are cold—nervous, trembling cold.

I rub my palms against my thighs, trying to calm the tension winding tighter with each passing mile.

“Liam,” I say, finally forcing myself to speak.

He looks up from the crossword in his lap, pen paused mid-clue. “Hm?”

I swallow. “What’s going to happen after? After the contract?”

My voice is quiet, but the weight behind it presses against my ribs.

“What do you mean?” he asks, shifting in his seat. He sets the crossword aside, attention locked on me.

“What’s going to happen with us? With you?” I gesture between us. “Is this working? Are you getting what you wanted?”

It’s something I’ve wondered more and more lately—whether all this is actually helping him, like he said it would.

“With us?” he repeats, guarded. “I don’t know.”

He leans back, jaw tight, eyes unreadable. “As for me? This trip is your doing. My father was supposed to meet with these clients, but he sent me instead.”

He almost smiles, but I can see the war behind his eyes.

“It’s working,” he says. “~You~ are working, Viv.”

“Good,” I say softly, nodding. But my chest still aches.

Then he adds, “Though I don’t know if what I wanted then and what I want now are the same.” He picks his crossword back up like the conversation hasn’t just rearranged something inside me.

When we land, we check into our hotel room. It’s nice, but I barely register the decor. My mind is still circling his words on the plane.

We spend the evening reviewing the plan: we fly back late tomorrow night, then head straight to his father’s house for Thanksgiving. This client meeting is the only thing between now and then.

I am strictly arm candy—his words. No speaking. No questions. Smile, nod, and stay close.

That’s all the details Liam gives me. No names. No stakes.

The next day, I play it to perfection. The client is a man I don’t recognize, though his home is nice enough. His eyes stay on me for most of the meeting.

I’m starting to realize why Liam brought me. I’m a steak he’s dangling as a distraction. And it’s working.

I laugh when I’m supposed to, sip champagne when it’s offered, even settle in Liam’s lap halfway through the meeting like it’s scripted.

It feels strange and familiar all at once, but he doesn’t flinch. He leans into it, smiling at me like I belong there.

All the while, the man watches us—me—like he’s the lion and I’m the lamb.

Afterward, we go back to our suite, order takeout, and tune into some action movie neither of us really watches.

It’s too easy to slip back into our old rhythm—sharing food, soft teasing, casual conversation that stretches longer than it should.

He’s just too easy to talk to. Maybe—hopefully—this is us finding our way back.

Who says we can’t be friends?

Who cares that he has a girlfriend, especially since that’s all we are—friends. Right?

Liam’s in a better mood now that the meeting’s over—joking and laughing with me.

He handled the client like a pro. It’s almost hypnotic watching him when he’s like that—sharp and charming with just enough edge to make people lean in.

He’s about to call his pilot when he catches me pouting.

“What’s the face?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I hesitate, then shrug. “I’m not ready to go back yet.”

He studies me a bit, and I rush to explain. “It’s just…we haven’t been like this in a while. There’s all this tension. I like this version of us better.”

I exaggerate my pout, batting my eyelashes. “Can we stay? Just one more night? I’ve never been to California—and it’s your birthday!”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Fine. I can’t believe you’ve never been here. We can stay a while longer—and I’ll have to bring you back sometime, when we have more time to enjoy it.” He pulls out his phone and calls the pilot, changing our plans without hesitation. Just like that.

We spend the afternoon walking the streets, slipping into little shops and cafes, letting Sacramento unfold around us.

There’s no agenda, no pressure. Just time. And him.

For the first time in a long time, it feels like it did before we complicated everything.

Once the sun’s down, we head back to the hotel to pack and get some sleep before the flight.

Liam stretches out on the couch, watching a movie, a broad smile breaking across his face.

I watch him for a moment, then reach into my bag. My fingers brush the wrapped gift, and butterflies take flight in my stomach—nerves and excitement colliding.

Carefully, I take a seat beside him, hiding the box behind my back. He glances at me briefly, then returns to the screen.

I clear my throat.

His gaze slides back to me, curious and warm.

“Happy Birthday, Liam,” I say, tenderly, pulling the gift out and handing it to him.

His brows lift in surprise. “What? You didn’t have to—”

He turns it over in his hands, examining the wrapping as I smile, barely able to sit still.

“Open it,” I urge.

He peels the paper away, revealing a simple black box. Inside, nestled in soft fabric, is an aluminum frame.

He lifts it carefully.

“What is this?” he asks, running his thumb over the plaque. “A star?”

I nod, heart fluttering.

“I know it isn’t much,” I start, unsure of his reaction. “But you said you wanted to be an astronomer—”

“It’s everything,” he says, smiling. He sets it down and pulls me into a hug. “Thank you, Vivianne.”

He carefully lifts the rest of the contents from the box, examining each piece.

“Are there two stars?” he asks, holding up a second plaque.

Embarrassment creeps up my neck, warming my face.

“It was before we split,” I say softly. “I got two. One I named Liam…” I swallow, heart racing. “And the other—”

“Vivianne,” he says, looking down at my name, etched beneath the image of the second star.

The moment sits between us—quiet, delicate—something neither of us wants to break.

We stay up talking, watching movies, and snacking on overpriced mini-bar treats.

By morning, the weight of a sleepless night settles over us.

I sleep through most of the flight home, lulled by exhaustion and the warmth of Liam’s reaction to my gift.

Once we land, everything moves fast. I barely have time to unpack before I’m repacking again for the overnight trip to Liam’s father’s house.

We’re only supposed to stay one night and return before dinner on Friday, which makes the whole thing slightly more bearable.

Still, the stress of traveling—and the looming presence of Mr. Stryder—is already wearing me down.

The next few hours pass in a blur. By the time we finally arrive at Mr. Stryder’s house, my nerves are frayed and my patience thin.