Chapter 39

LIAM

If I could go back, I’d do it all differently. I’d tear up that stupid contract and man up from the start.

I take the rest of the week off and work from home.

Beth keeps calling, but I don’t answer.

Not after what she did at the gala.

I told her that night I didn’t want anything to do with her, and I meant it.

The truth is, I’d been lying to her long before then—pretending I wasn’t serious about Viv.

And I’d been lying to Viv too, telling her it was okay—we could be friends, keep things professional.

I wasn’t looking for anything when I met Viv, that was true. But the more I got to know her, the harder it became to separate how I was feeling.

I let her sign the contract because I wanted her close.

I let her walk away too easily because I was afraid.

My phone rings for the zillionth time, Beth’s name lighting up my screen again.

Something in me snaps. I pick up.

“What could you possibly want, Beth?” I say, seething.

“We need to talk,” she says softly

“I told you, I don’t want to talk to you. You lost that option when you tried to humiliate me and Vivianne at a fucking charity gala.”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words suck the air out of my lungs.

I go silent. Everything around me drops away.

“Hello?” she asks.

“I’m—I’m here.”

“I know this is a shock. So…can we meet?”

I nod even though she can’t see me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we can meet.”

We hang up, and I immediately call my lawyer. I want to be prepared—for anything.

He tells me to record the meeting, get papers drawn up, and don’t agree to anything without proof. He also insists on a paternity test.

I want to tell Viv. But I can’t. Not yet. Not without answers.

And I can’t tell Jenna either.

This day is turning out to be the hardest loss I’ve ever had to deal with.

Calling my father isn’t an option—it never has been.

Instead, I call the one person who’s always made me feel like I was enough: my mother.

Explaining everything to her is a disaster. She thinks I cheated on Viv and got Beth pregnant, which might be easier than the truth.

Talking doesn’t help. Nothing does.

I think about calling Vivianne again.

But I know I’ve already asked too much of her.

She doesn’t owe me anything anymore.

VIVIANNE

The night Liam showed up, I gave myself a timeline.

I just needed some time away from New York, from the hustle—or at least, that’s what I told myself.

But Becca was right—I’ve been hiding.

Becca and I both know it isn’t really about New York. It’s about Liam—and my own insecurities.

I still can’t bring myself to admit it out loud, but I’m terrified that if I go back, I’ll have to face the possibility of failure. Or worse—running into Liam.

But it’s been three months. I’ve taken a few classes and picked up some temp work.

Jenna quit Stryder Corp. She said Liam had slipped back into his old ways—a version that reminded me a lot of his father.

The thought saddens me, but everyone copes in their own way.

I thought about extending my time here, but I don’t want to get too comfortable.

I miss the city. The energy. The possibilities.

Am I ready to jump back in?

No. I’m nowhere near ready.

So I make a plan: start small. Dip my toes in with a visit.

I call Jenna and run the idea past her. She’s all in, already planning our weekend.

***

The next morning, I wake up early and hit the road.

I drive straight through. No stops. By the time I get to the hotel, my back is stiff and my eyes feel like they might pop out of my head.

But I’m glad to be back.

The hotel’s near my old apartment—well, Liam’s old apartment.

I wonder if he still lives there, but I quickly shove the thought aside.

Jenna meets me in the lobby, practically sprinting to hug me.

“I missed you,” she breathes, wrapping herself around me.

I hug her back just as tight, laughing.

“You have no idea.” I give her an extra squeeze. “Let me check in, and then we’ll go—I don’t know—do something.”

Jenna sinks into one of the comfortable-looking couches while I sign the papers and hand over my ID.

We ride up to my room, which is clean and bright.

A large bed sits in the middle of the far wall, the stark white covers accented by a thick tan band at the foot.

A small couch and loveseat sit across from the bed, both a deep navy-blue color contrasting against the tan carpet.

This is perfect.

Jenna and I don’t stay long, deciding to go out for coffee.

“Can we find a different coffee spot?” I ask, feeling a little stupid.

She gives me a knowing look and nods, steering us away from Daily Grind.

A few minutes later, we find a cute little cafe just down the road, with a hand-painted sign hanging outside the door.

The inside is simple—a bland beige with pops of color.

We order and sit down at a table. The barista smiles at us.

He’s handsome—I’ll give him that—and Jenna seems like she’d give him more.

“So, what’s been going on with you?” she asks, tearing her eyes from the barista.

I’m not sure where to start, so I just shrug.

“I’ve been taking cooking classes,” I say, leaning back.

“Cooking classes? But you’re already really good. You made that—uh—”

“Risotto,” I say with a nod. “I know, but I like cooking, and I thought it would be fun to try something new. Plus, I needed a way to get my head on straight.

“I also took a painting class, but that was horrible. You should see the monstrosities that came from that class.”

I laugh, Jenna joining in. My heart’s missed her since the moment I decided to leave, but I didn’t realize just how much until she was sitting here in front of me.

“How about you?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“No, no, no. We’re talking about you, babe.”

She smiles, then takes a sip, giving me a side-eye that could cut glass. “When are you moving back?”

I freeze.

I’m still not sure if I’m moving back.

I want to—at least part of me does. But another part keeps looking for ways out instead of reasons to return.

“I’m not entirely sure yet. I have a job, and with Becca finishing school soon, I just—”

My excuse falls flat.

“Oh, okay. We’re still there,” she says, shrugging and rolling her eyes.

“Wha—where?” I ask, confused.

“Oh, just where you keep making excuses instead of facing the music.”

She takes another sip.

My jaw nearly hits the floor. I can’t really be mad—she’s right. But I don’t exactly want to be called out on it.

A strange feeling washes over me. I feel it before I see it.

I look up—and he’s standing there. He’s wearing his signature tailored gray suit, his green eyes piercing straight through me.

He looks frozen—like a statue—caught somewhere between a scowl and surprise.

I can’t move.

Can’t look away.

There’s a hum between us, thick and undeniable.

“Viv?” Jenna inches toward me, her eyes scanning my face before following my deer-in-the-headlights stare.

A small gasp escapes her when she finally sees him.

His face is thinner—sharper—and his clothes hang a little loose on his frame.

The circles under his beautiful eyes make the skin look brutally abused.

The man in front of me isn’t the same man I left. But the pull is still there.

We stare at each other for what feels like forever.

I memorize him all over again—this new version—committing him to memory.

He looks like he’s devouring me from where he stands.

The girl behind the counter tries to get his attention, her smile wide and bright.

But he doesn’t even glance at her.

His mouth moves slightly, then he tosses money onto the counter without looking.

He walks toward me. Our eyes stay locked.

I want to kiss him.

The thought crashes into me, raw and overwhelming.

“What is she doing here?” he says, his gaze snapping to Jenna like a whip.

“I—she—uh—well,” Jenna stumbles.

I watch as shadows cloud his eyes, the vibrant green turning dark and murky.

“I’m a grown woman. I don’t need to explain why I’m in a coffee shop,” I snap, lifting my chin.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says sharply, turning away.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be here,” I shoot back, standing. “Since this will be my regular cafe.”

The words spill out of me before I can stop them.

He freezes.

Turning halfway back around, his eyes land on Jenna again.

“What?” he grits out.

“I’m moving back. I’m apartment hunting. That’s why I’m here,” I say, trying to sound casual—indifferent.

I don’t know why I lie. Or why I can’t stop staring at him.

He’s been a dick in every sense of the word.

He’s not the man I knew.

He’s not even the man I met in his office.

He’s worse.

I feel Jenna’s eyes on me, see the surprise—and the flicker of senseless hope.

But there’s something else there too.

And she’s hiding it well.

Liam mutters something to the woman behind the counter and walks out, leaving without anything.

I stay seated, pulse pounding.

I don’t know what I was expecting.

But it wasn’t that.