Page 108 of The Contract Marriage

I haul the luggage downstairs, then stop at the sight of the white baby grand.

Not everything fits into a suitcase. Sweat slickens my palms, and anxiety flutters in my belly, like I’m forgetting something important.

I close my eyes. My mind conjures a smiling Liam coming down the stairs, his hair messy and eyes soft with sleep, then grabbing and kissing me like he’ll worship me forever.

I’m leaving Liam behind.

My knuckles turn white around the suitcase handle. I don’t know why this hurts so much when this was the plan—and I swore I’d stick to it, no matter the cost.

My feet seem to weigh a ton as I drag myself out the door. I keep praying that his blue Spectre will magically appear in front of me, and he’ll step out with a bouquet of white gardenias, like he did when he comforted me in the alley.

But miracles don’t happen twice.

Over an hour of fighting the traffic later, I spot my Century City condo building gleaming in the distance under the late afternoon sun. My heart used to swell with pride and satisfaction. It was my sanctuary from the madness of Hugh, Deena and Brielle. Here I could avoid looking at the damage they’d done to the beautiful home I grew up in. I decorated it so everything—from Mom’s favorite neutral palette to the portrait of us with Pochi—would remind me of the goal that’s been driving me for over a decade.

So I should feel at ease as I pull up. But instead, this feels like an exile…because the home Liam and I built isn’t available to me anymore.

I park my car, then send a quick text to Liam, my fingers shaky.

–Me: I’m at Century City now. You should go back home. I won’t bother you there until you’re okay, so don’t worry about me

I pause, trying to find the right word, then finally add ambushing you or anything. I send it and put a hand to my forehead. That wasn’t easy. My instinct is to confront him and ask why he’s torturing us like this—and most importantly hurting himself. I didn’t imagine the anguish glazing his eyes. But how can I help him if he won’t talk to me?

The condo is impeccable, not a speck of dust in sight. The housekeeping service I hired comes by every week to keep it tidy. I stop in the living room and breathe deeply and wait for the usual peace this place provides to settle my anxiety.

Instead, the silence in the condo grows deafening. No more soft lull of waves to soothe my nerves. No hint of salt in the air that seemed to cleanse my soul. Or Liam’s arms wrapping around me with his smiling mouth kissing mine. I might as well be inside a tomb.

Suddenly, exhaustion overwhelms me. The weight of everything that’s gone off the rails presses down and I can’t remain standing straight and tall. But why? I’m used to being alone and shouldering everything on my own. Right now, though, I feel like I’m fighting the world with nothing but my bare hands.

I slowly collapse to my knees, then turn my head and look up at the portrait of us—me, Mom and Pochi. Nothing’s changed in the picture. We’re still happy and together. If only I could go back in time…

It was the last moment I could love openly. After that, the people I showed even the slightest affection to either died or disappeared from my life.

I think of my exes—all those men who said they liked me, only to backstab me or abandon me and run to Brielle. And my friends… I lost touch with all of them after Mom died, and then I never had a chance to form any lasting friendships afterward. Deena made sure of that by transferring me around different schools every two years or so. And Brielle made sure to alienate anyone who hung on after I left.

If I could go back in time, I might’ve been able to change my fate. I might’ve been able to save Mom, save Pochi. If I could do that, I’d give up everything—

Not everything. Not Liam. Not the baby.

A wan smile tugs at my mouth, and I shake my head. No. I can’t give them up. For some inexplicable reason, they’ve taken up too much space in my heart. Ripping them out would leave me broken and hollow.

Could I have worded my answers to Liam better? Could I have at least told him it scares me that he’s become more important than I thought? But how would I word it so that it doesn’t betray how much he’s started to matter to me? I don’t want to disappoint him or make him think it means we could have the kind of marriage Rhys and Max have. I saw how they were at the brunch. The love and intimacy between them is subtle, but you couldn’t miss it if you know what to look for. From the way Rhys rubbed her back to the way he brought her what she wanted just because she glanced at the same item on the spread twice. She reached for his hand under the table with a secret smile, thinking nobody noticed.

Mom smiles at me from the portrait. Take courage, she seems to say.

Mom, I lost it when you and Pochi were taken from me. I’m too scared to try.

What if I misjudge things? What if I get too cocky? What if I lose Liam too? And the baby?

“Always look ahead, honey. Whatever happened is already over. Nothing to be done about it,” Mom used to say when I pouted over hitting the wrong key while playing the piano.

Look ahead. I stare at her. Her eyes are looking straight ahead, I realize. I turn my head, following her line of sight.

My breath catches. Far off, on the horizon, my mother has been looking at the bluff where the mansion with a white Steinway baby grand stands.

Chapter Forty-Five

Olivia