Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 98021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
"You weren't supposed to lie to me," I say. "You promised."
"I know," he whispers.
I can feel it, feel his heart breaking, but I can't bring myself to look at him. "I… I can't do this. I'm sorry." I slip the engagement ring off my finger. Press it into his palm. "I'm sorry, Liam. I can't."
I can't pretend.
I can't not pretend.
I can't love someone who locks me out.
My father and my mother—
I can't walk down that path. I can't do it.
"Bri, please—"
I don't give him a chance to ask me to stay. Or let me go without protest. I can't handle either. "I'm sorry, Liam." I don't give him a chance to respond.
I turn, leave, call a car, find the nearest hotel.
It's a cheap place, but it's clean and conveniently located. I shower, change into the plush robe, climb into bed, fail to find sleep.
Secrets are a burden. Simon is right about that. But he's wrong about Liam protecting me.
He's protecting himself.
I can't blame him, but I can't live with it either.
I need all of him.
Every broken part.
Every need.
Every burden.
Chapter Forty
Liam
I give Harrison time with his father. Give Preston time to explain. It's awkward as fuck, standing in the hallway, across from the window to the room, pretending I'm not watching their conversation unfold.
Is the truth setting him free?
Or trapping him in a cage?
My whole life, I've craved freedom. From my dad, from boarding school rules, from the expectations thrust upon me.
For the last few months, I've cursed Simon for hiding shit from me, all while keeping my own secrets.
Was Preston's confession the truth, setting me free?
Or is this?
There's weight to a secret. The heaviness in my shoulders is easing.
But without Briar here—
Will anything be easy again?
Harrison leaves in a huff. I slip into the room, pull up a chair next to Preston, offer him my hand.
He looks at me, weary and worn, the weight of his secrecy written all over his face.
"We don't have to talk," I say.
"You're able to go without conversation?"
"For a few minutes, max. Make the most of them."
He nods and takes my hand.
Everything is a fucked-up mess.
But he's here.
And I'm here, honoring my promise to him, repaying him the only way I can.
Chapter Forty-One
Briar
One downside of running away? I'm lacking attire. I slip into my cocktail dress, fasten the straps of my heels, debate the merits of wearing last night's underwear or skipping underwear entirely.
Neither option appeals, but going commando to see my ex fake fiancé's father figure—
That's a no go.
I slide into last night's panties, call a ride share, stop at the pharmacy on my way to the hospital. I slip into the waiting room, ready to find a bathroom and change into a pair of cotton briefs, but it's not necessary.
Simon is already here, with my purple overnight bag on the chair next to him. "Liam's out, grabbing coffee for Harrison."
"Oh."
He taps the chair. "Trish packed it."
"Thanks."
"He'll be back in twenty minutes."
Okay. That's good information. Twenty minutes to say hey, sorry you're dying, did you realize I lied about my engagement to Liam? No. Then never mind. It was all real. Totally.
"He loves you."
What?
"That isn't always enough. I won't ask you to ignore the other factors. But don't ignore that."
What can I say? No, he doesn't, we're just pretending we're in love. If this is really over, and this is the end, then Liam's family is no longer any of my business.
We're coworkers.
That's all.
I can handle that. Absolutely.
"I know." It falls off my lips easily, but it's not true. I don't know. I wonder, I hope, I suspect, but I don't know.
Simon nods. "Room one fifteen."
"Thanks." I grab the overnight bag, change into jeans, a t-shirt, and a fresh pair of panties in the bathroom. And, yes, flat shoes. Much better. I check my outfit for anything that screams I slept in a hotel and not in Liam's bed, take a deep breath, and find Preston's room.
He's half asleep, an opened paperback on his chest, his son asleep on the chair across from his.
He stirs as I enter, motions to his sleeping son, presses his fingers to his lips. "Shall we take a walk?"
"Can you?"
"Who's going to stop me?"
"The nurse? Your son?"
"Then let's stay quiet."
"Okay." I offer my hand.
He uses it for leverage as he slips out of bed. His IV is already on a cart, and he's wearing pajamas under his gown.
Rich people perks or modern hospital life? I'm not sure. I'm lucky. I haven't had to spend much time in hospitals.
I can see why so many people hate them. They're strange and sterile. A place to fall, fade, die.
It happens to all of us. But it's close for Preston. And I—
Fuck, I don't want to see it happen. I don't know him well, but I don't want to lose him. I don't want the world to lose him.