Page 33 of The Contract Marriage

I haven’t felt this way in a long, long time…and that’s dangerous. Even my Century City condo is a place where I lurk and strategize, reminding myself of my purpose. It’ll be too easy to lose myself here.

“Let’s go in.” Liam takes the suitcase from the trunk and extends a hand, just like he did in the alley.

I look down at his strong fingers, then the steady set of his eyes. My heart does a little pirouette.

Girl, you’re in trouble.

The smart thing would be to step back, pretend I don’t see his hand. But I don’t want to be smart right now. I don’t want to see a shadow of pain in his eyes from rejecting a nice, simple gesture. I remember the times in college when he stood by me rather than Brielle—by me—and the way his lips compressed with barely restrained fury at Tyler’s disrespect in Kingswood Stones & Designs. Even after all these years, he has the ability to make me feel carefree, like I can do whatever I want and he’ll back me up one hundred percent, no questions asked. I haven’t experienced this kind of support since Mom passed away.

And I don’t want to let go of it. Not now.

I can probably let my guard down a little, just when he’s around, only when we’re home. Mom wouldn’t want me on my toes all the time. Grasping a little sliver of happiness here and there is probably okay.

I thread my fingers through his. A smile breaks over his handsome face as he squeezes. “This way, Mrs. Kingswood.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kingswood.” My voice is carefree, matching his.

He takes me inside the two-story contemporary structure. If the outside was beautiful, the inside is…

“Oh my God.”

My jaw drops. One entire ocean-facing wall is made of glass and opens completely to a view of the Pacific, nothing between us and a terrace that extends out over the bluff. The sound of waves pounding into the rocks and sand comes up like a boisterous welcome from nature. Lots of warm greige, leather and natural stone give the house an air of quiet moneyed elegance.

I step further in, my stilettos clicking on the stone floor.

“You like?”

I circle around to look at him with a wide smile. “Yes.”

I reach the center of the house, then stop. A shiny white Steinway baby grand sits to my left, in the part of the living room with windows that overlook Santa Monica Bay. The setting sun lends it a beautiful golden sheen. It’s the kind of instrument for a show or a serious musician. But Liam isn’t the type to show off. He doesn’t need to.

So what’s he doing with a piano that costs twice as much as my Audi? “You didn’t lie about not playing, did you?” I ask, my mouth a little dry.

“No. Music really isn’t my forte.”

“Then… Did it come with the house?” Please say yes.

He shakes his head. “I’m the first owner.”

My chin wobbles as I recall the conversation we had over the blue crystal piano charm hanging in his car. “How long have you had it?”

“It came this week. The dealer in San Francisco had a unit made in Hamburg, and I snatched it up before anybody else could.” His voice is quiet, but his eyes are sparkling with anticipation over my reaction.

I walk slowly toward it. The piano is absolutely gorgeous, just like the Bösendorfer Mom used to have. Deena put it into storage after moving in with Brielle, saying its “ostentatious presence” made people uncomfortable. I run a shaking hand over the cool flawless lacquer. “I haven’t played in so long.”

He nods. “Well, it’ll be here. For whenever you’re ready.”

“You were supposed to have a humble hut with just enough space for the two of us.”

“And our babies. Remember?”

Despite his light tone, the words create unshakably vivid pictures in my mind. Of a small girl with Liam’s eyes watching me play. Of a small boy with Liam’s build chasing after a puppy in the garden, while Liam and I smile and look on.

The vision is so achingly beautiful my heart clenches with longing.

“Mom taught me to play Gershwin on ours,” I manage, after a beat to control my reaction.

“You must’ve been talented.”