Page 50 of The Focal Point

“I have something to tell you. You know the houses you re-designed? Well, the one you finished, and you’re in the middle of another one—” I was babbling, holding off the inevitable. “Those houses—”

Silence met my broken declaration.

“Bailey?”

I turned my head just enough to see she was asleep, her body slack. Her face was peaceful, her arms still wrapped around mine.

Grimacing, I let my head fall back onto the pillow.

In the morning. I would tell her in the morning.

Chapter 20

Bailey

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I WOKE TO THE SUN ON my face and birds chirping outside the window, feeling much sunnier than I had in a long time. Stretching luxuriously, I blinked open my eyes and took in my surroundings for a long moment, reveling in the previous night.

I was crazy about Liam, and I was positive he felt the same. It wasn’t anything he had said, though he was always complimenting me or calling me beautiful or funny or cute. It was in the way his hand consistently sought mine or found some way to make contact, whether with a hand on my waist or a brush on my arm or simply moving closer. It was in the way he was thoughtful, asking whether I was comfortable or surprising me with dinner when he knew I would be working late. He never expected anything except a quick kiss on the cheek, and then he would leave me to my project.

And it was in the way he hadn’t minded taking our relationship at a glacially slow pace without comment, complaint, or pressure. He seemed content to give me the space to figure out what I wanted and to feel comfortable.

It had helped that we had both been so exceptionally busy for the past few months—we hadn’t had the chance to pay attention to whatever was growing between us. But I also knew Liam was giving me the space to work through whatever I had to get through, which was quite a lot, if I was honest.

I had to learn not to go to the worst possible scenario when he said he was working late and couldn’t come over. I had to learn to open up and be okay with someone seeing the real me, which had been extremely difficult. And hardest of all, I had to learn to trust Liam.

But I think I was finally there, and it was because he had given me the space and even support to do the hard work. If Liam had pushed, if he had given me ultimatums or complained I was taking too long, it would have been entirely different.

Over the past months, Liam had shown me who he was.

My mother had always told me that people will show you who they are, even if their words say differently. Russ had shown me who he was, too. I just wished I had paid attention to my mom’s advice instead of ignoring every signal flare my ex sent up that he wasn’t a good guy.

Unlike Liam, Russ gradually eroded my trust until I didn’t even know whether I could trust myself and my intuition. I still didn’t understand why my ex had asked me to marry him. He had made a big deal out of it, too, inviting all our—his—friends and orchestrating quite the spectacle. He had made it all about him, of course. My only guess was that he hoped to keep me under his thumb, hoped I would stick around so he had someone to take out all his nastiness on, so he could have someone to control.

And to top it all off, he had tried to pawn all his behavior off on the fact that I worked too much. As though that somehow justified his cheating, his lying, and the way he treated me. As though I was the one to blame, not him.

I was proud that I’d had the courage to walk away, even if how long it had taken me was still embarrassing. And without breaking up with Russ, I don’t know if I would have started my design firm when I had if at all. I’d moved out almost immediately and quit my job because I couldn’t stand to be on the same planet with him, much less the same business when I realized what he was.

But that left me with no income, job, or place to live. I had crashed at my parents' house and launched my firm out of desperation, turning my anger, frustration, and resentment into proving Russ wrong.

And if I hadn’t started my design firm, I probably never would have met Liam. And I realized I would rather go through the entire experience with Russ again than risk losing Liam.

Full of sudden energy, I pushed the quilt away and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

“Liam?”

But there was no answer, and when I checked the bathroom, he wasn’t in there, either. Pulling on a T-shirt, I padded through the house, but it was quiet in the early morning light. I finally found Liam when I paused by an open window and heard splashing.

Liam was in the middle of a lap, his strokes sure and powerful as he propelled himself across the pool. I could have watched him all day with his muscles rippling with each movement and the sun reflecting off the water making his skin glisten.

But he pulled up as he reached the wall, wiping water from his eyes and pushing his hand through his hair. He pulled himself out of the pool and bent down to grab his towel, and all I could do was stare at the water cascading from the chiseled perfection of his body.

As though he felt my eyes on him, Liam looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw me but only momentarily before a large grin replaced the surprise.

Then he closed the space between us in only a few heartbeats.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, dipping his head to kiss me.