“That sounds perfect.”
“Yeah?” I'm inordinately pleased that she likes the idea. “I want to show you the city. Do normal couple things.”
“Normal couple things,” she repeats, and there's something wistful in her voice. “I like that.”
“Me too.” I reach over and take her hand. “Thank you for listening this morning. About my mom and all that shit.”
“Thank you for telling me.” She squeezes my fingers. “I know it wasn't easy.”
“It wasn't. But I'm glad I did.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “You make it easier. Everything's easier with you.”
“Even the complicated parts?”
“Especially those.”
We eat breakfast slowly, talking about nothing important. What we want to see, where we should eat dinner, whether it's too cold for the ferry to the islands. Normal conversation. The kind couples have over breakfast.
And for the first time in my life, I think maybe I could have this. Not just for two days, but for real. A relationship. Someone who knows the messy parts of me and doesn't run away.
Someone like Avery.
My phone buzzes on the table between us. I glance at the screen.
Mom: Liam, I need to talk to you about Thanksgiving. Call me back.
“You should probably call her back,” Avery says gently.
“Eventually. But not today.” I stand up and pull her to her feet. “Today is about us.”
She smiles up at me. “I can live with that.”
“Good.” I kiss her one more time. “Now let's go be tourists.”
Maybe I'll even text Caden and Travis when we get back. Ask about school or soccer or video games. Start trying, like Avery said.
Because if she can take risks for me, I can take risks too.
Even if it's scary as hell.
24
Avery
The seat belt sign dings off, and I immediately pull out my laptop. Four hours on a commercial flight from Toronto to New York is plenty of time to catch up on work I've been neglecting while playing tourist with my secret boyfriend.
Secret boyfriend.
The words still feel surreal in my mind, like something that belongs to someone else's life. Not mine. I'm Avery Carter, the woman who plans everything, who maintains professional boundaries, who doesn't do messy and complicated.
Except now I do.
I open my work email, scanning through the accumulation from the past two days. Sponsor inquiries, media requests, coverage reports. All routine. All manageable.
But my mind keeps drifting back to Sunday night in that hotel suite, to Monday exploring Toronto hand-in-hand like normal people, to this morning's goodbye.
Liam had to take an earlier flight. I'm on a regular commercial flight at ten, maintaining the illusion that we weren't together.
And now I'm here, thirty thousand feet in the air, trying to focus on work when all I can think about is how his face looked when he talked about his father leaving, about his mother choosing her new family over him.
