Chapter 16 #3
She studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then something shifted—not softening, exactly, but a crack in the armor. Just enough to let him see the woman beneath the professional facade.
"I don't know, Alex." Her voice was quieter now, meant only for him. "I spent two weeks falling for you. I spent five weeks trying to get over you. And now you want five minutes?"
"I know it's not enough. I know I don't deserve—"
"You're right." She cut him off, her jaw tight. "You don't."
She turned and walked toward the waiting assistant without looking back.
Alex watched her disappear into the elevator, his rehearsed speeches dissolving into ash.
He'd thought he was prepared for this. He wasn't. Nothing could have prepared him for the wall she'd built, or for the realization that he'd been the one who'd handed her the bricks.
The next ninety minutes were the longest of Alex's life.
He couldn't go back to his office—couldn't focus, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except pace the lobby like a caged animal until the security guard started giving him concerned looks.
Finally, he retreated to a bench near the harbor-facing windows, where he could see the elevator bank without being immediately visible to anyone exiting.
She's going to walk out of that meeting and leave. She's going to fly back to California and you're never going to see her again.
You blew it. Again.
His phone buzzed. Harold.
You've been AWOL all morning. Everything okay?
Alex typed back: Handling something personal. Cover for me?
The mysterious "nothing" from before?
Something like that.
Good luck.
Alex pocketed his phone and went back to staring at the elevator.
Eleven-fifteen. Eleven-thirty. Eleven-forty-five.
The meeting was supposed to be an hour. It had been nearly two.
Maybe that's good. Maybe they're hammering out details. Maybe she's signing a contract right now.
Or maybe she's up there telling Dr. Okonkwo exactly why a partnership won't work because she can't stand to be in the same building as the coward who broke her heart.
At 11:52, the elevator dinged.
Alex stood so fast he nearly knocked over a potted plant.
Lily emerged first, followed by Dr. Okonkwo and two other SPECA executives he vaguely recognized. They were all smiling—handshakes and nodded agreements and the general body language of a meeting that had gone well.
But Alex only had eyes for Lily.
She looked... lighter somehow. The professional armor was still there, but it wasn't quite as rigid as before. She was laughing at something Dr. Okonkwo said, that genuine laugh he remembered from the island, and the sound of it made his chest ache.
Then her gaze swept the lobby, and she spotted him.
The laugh faded. Her expression became carefully neutral.
Alex didn't move. Didn't approach. Just stood there like an idiot, silently begging her to give him the chance he didn't deserve.
Dr. Okonkwo followed Lily's gaze and raised an eyebrow in Alex's direction. Something passed between the two women—a look, a nod, some form of silent communication he wasn't privy to—and then Patricia was steering the other executives toward a different exit, leaving Lily alone in the lobby.
Leaving her with him.
Lily walked toward him slowly, her heels clicking against the polished concrete floor. She stopped about five feet away—close enough to talk, far enough to maintain distance.
"You're still here," she said. Not a question.
"I didn't know where else to be."
"Don't you have important research to do? Fish to count?"
The barb landed, but Alex absorbed it. He deserved worse.
"Can we go somewhere? To talk?" He gestured vaguely toward the harbor-side terrace. "There's a patio. It's usually empty this time of day."
Lily hesitated. He watched her weigh the options—the part of her that wanted to protect herself warring with... something else. Something that looked like it might be hope, quickly suppressed.
"Five minutes," she finally said. "That's what you asked for."
"That's all I need."
He led her through the glass doors to the outdoor terrace, a small paved area with a few benches overlooking the harbor. The September air was crisp, carrying the salt-and-diesel smell of the waterfront. A seagull screamed somewhere overhead.
Lily leaned against the railing, arms crossed, waiting.
Alex opened his mouth to deliver one of his rehearsed speeches.
Nothing came out.
All those carefully crafted words—the apologies, the explanations, the declarations—had evaporated, leaving him with nothing but the raw, terrifying truth.
"I don't know how to do this," he said finally.
Lily's eyebrow arched. "Do what?"
"This." He gestured between them. "Talking about feelings. Being vulnerable. Any of it." He laughed, but it came out hollow. "I've spent thirty-five years avoiding exactly this moment, and now that I'm here, I'm realizing I have no idea what I'm doing."
"That's your opening? 'I don't know what I'm doing'?"
"I'm trying to be honest."
"Novel approach. You could have tried that five weeks ago."
The words hit their mark. Alex flinched but didn't look away.
"You're right. I should have." He took a breath, forcing himself to hold her gaze. "You asked me once what I was afraid of. On the beach, that night. And I gave you some bullshit answer."
"I remember."
"The real answer is you." The words scraped out of his throat like sharp rocks. "I was afraid of you. Of how you made me feel. Of how much I wanted something I'd convinced myself I could never have."
Lily's expression didn't change, her grip tightened on the railing.
"Every time you gave me an opening—and you gave me so many, Lily—I had the words. I knew what I wanted to say." His voice cracked, and he didn't try to hide it. "Ask me to stay. You actually said that. You made it so easy, and I still couldn't—"
He stopped, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.
Get it together, Carmichael. She deserves better than you falling apart.
When he lowered his hands, Lily was watching him with an expression he couldn't read.
"You're saying this now," she said quietly. "Where was this five weeks ago? Where was this when I was standing on that dock, waiting for you to give me literally any reason not to get on that boat?"
"I don't have an excuse." Alex shook his head.
"I could tell you about my mom dying when I was nine.
About spending the next twenty-six years convinced that caring about someone just meant losing them eventually.
About building walls so high I forgot there was supposed to be a door.
" He laughed bitterly. "But those aren't excuses.
They're just... explanations. Bad ones."
"They're not bad explanations," Lily said, and her voice was softer now. "They're just not enough."
"I know."
Silence stretched between them, filled with the cry of gulls and the distant rumble of harbor traffic.
"The video," Alex said. "What you made—it was the most incredible thing anyone's ever done with my work. You took everything I tried to tell you and made it matter to millions of people. While I was sitting in my apartment feeling sorry for myself, you were out there changing the world."
"I was processing," Lily corrected. "I was heartbroken and angry and I needed to do something with all of that. So I made something that mattered." She paused. "You taught me that. How to care about things that actually deserve caring about."
"I should have been braver. I should have—" Alex's voice broke.
"I'm not asking for another chance. I know I don't deserve one.
I just needed you to know that letting you leave was the worst mistake I've ever made.
And I've made a lot of mistakes, but that one.
.. that one I'm going to regret for the rest of my life. "
Lily stared at him.
Alex stared back, his heart somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.
He'd said everything he had to say. Put every card on the table. Now it was up to her, and the waiting was excruciating.
"You know what really pisses me off?" Lily finally said.
"What?"
"That was actually a pretty good speech."
Despite everything—despite the gravity of the moment and the very real possibility that she was about to walk away forever—Alex felt his lips twitch.
"I've had five weeks to practice."
"Clearly." She uncrossed her arms, and something in her posture shifted. Not quite softening, but... opening. "You really hurt me, Alex. When I stood on that dock and you didn't say anything—" Her voice wavered. "I felt so stupid. For thinking I'd meant something to you. For hoping."
"You meant everything to me. You still do."
"Then why couldn't you just say that?"
"Because I'm an emotionally constipated idiot who's spent his entire adult life hiding from anything that might actually make him happy." The words came out with a self-deprecating edge. "I'm not saying that's a good reason. I'm saying it's the truth."
Lily let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "At least you're self-aware now."
"Megan would be so proud."
"Your sister?"
"She's been telling me I'm emotionally stunted for years. I finally started listening."
Another silence, but this one felt different. Less like a wall and more like a bridge being tentatively constructed.
"I don't know if I can do this again," Lily said quietly. "The hoping. The trusting. I spent five weeks convincing myself I was over you, and then I walked into that lobby and saw you and—" She shook her head. "I can't go through that again. I won't."
"I'm not asking you to."
"Then what are you asking?"
Alex considered the question carefully. What was he asking? For forgiveness? For a second chance? For her to upend her entire life for a man who'd already proven he couldn't be trusted with her heart?
"I'm not asking for anything," he said finally. "I'm just telling you the truth and letting you decide what to do with it." He met her eyes. "You're the brave one, Lily. I'm just finally trying to catch up."
Lily studied him for a long moment. He watched her process—the hurt, the hope, the risk of trying again.
Finally, she spoke.
"Dinner."
Alex blinked. "What?"
"You can buy me dinner. Tonight." Her chin lifted. "And we can... talk. Figure out if there's anything here worth figuring out."
"That's—yes. Absolutely. I know a place—"
"Nothing fancy." She held up a hand. "I've had enough fancy for one day. Somewhere real. Somewhere you'd actually go."
"There's a seafood place near the harbor. Old school. Paper napkins and plastic baskets. Best fried clams in Boston."
"That sounds perfect." A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "But Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"This is a trial run. Not a guarantee. You hurt me once, and I'm not sure I trust you not to do it again." Her voice was steady, but her eyes were vulnerable. "So if we're doing this, you need to actually show up. Not just tonight—every day. I need you to be brave enough to stay."
The words echoed back to him—stay—and Alex felt the full weight of what she was offering. Not forgiveness, exactly. Not a clean slate. But a chance. A real one.
More than he deserved.
Everything he wanted.
"I can do that," he said, his voice rough. "I want to do that. For you."
"We'll see." But she was almost smiling now. "Seven o'clock?"
"I'll pick you up. Where are you staying?"
"The Marriott on Long Wharf."
"I know it." He hesitated, then reached out and took her hand. She let him. "Lily... thank you. For giving me a chance I don't deserve."
"You're right." She squeezed his fingers once, then let go. "You don't. So don't waste it."
She turned and walked back toward the building, her heels clicking against the pavement. At the door, she glanced back over her shoulder.
"Oh, and Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"If you stand me up, I will use every one of my six million followers to make your life a living hell. Understood?"
Despite everything—despite the emotional gauntlet he'd just run and the terrifying uncertainty of what came next—Alex laughed.
"Understood."
Lily smiled—a real one this time, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes—and disappeared inside.
Alex stood on the terrace, watching the harbor, feeling something unfamiliar bloom in his chest.
Hope.
It was fragile and uncertain and absolutely terrifying. But it was there.
And for the first time in thirty-five years, he didn't try to protect himself from it.
Don't screw this up, Carmichael.
He didn't intend to.