CHAPTER 15
Liam
For the first time in longer than I could remember, I woke up relaxed—completely, utterly relaxed. There was no rush to grab my phone and mitigate some disaster that wasn’t even my doing. There was no pressing need to roll out of bed and begin chipping away at a to-do list that never ended.
Only the quiet of the condo pulled me out of bed.
My clothes had been neatly laid out, each piece flawless and wrinkle-free as if it hadn’t been tossed somewhere the night before.
A strange warmth blossomed in my chest at the sight of them.
Even after everything finished, Owen had still made sure to take care of me. It was nice.
I dressed, my movements slow as I still worked to shake off the sleep.
My sweater smelled faintly of Owen’s expensive cologne, and I brought it to my nose, inhaling deeply.
For just a moment, I let it fill my lungs.
My chest tightened at the familiarity. I committed it to memory, knowing full well that the scent would fade and disappear for good.
I finished getting dressed and folded the lounge clothes. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with them. Did I leave them? Keep them? Throw them out? Who knew? And so I left them on the dresser before I made the bed and tried to leave everything in proper order.
Only when I was certain did I head out into the living room. The late morning sun cut through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything was clean and organized, and it looked like nothing had happened. The evidence of my entire night was just… gone.
“Owen?” I called out just because. Just in case. There was a small part of me that stupidly hoped he was still there.
Of course, he wasn’t. The night was over and done with.
There was no reason for him to remain behind.
Which begged the question: what was I supposed to do?
Did I just leave? Was I supposed to talk to someone?
How did I get home? I didn’t have my car.
Hell, I didn’t even know where I was, so I couldn’t call for someone to get me.
The idea of that was embarrassing. I wouldn’t know how to explain this to anyone.
A twinge of anxiety crept its way through my chest at the thought of being stranded somewhere I didn’t know without an escape plan.
I forced out a rough breath to ease the tightness as I reminded myself that there was no way they’d just leave me here.
Not after all the thought they’d put into planning everything else.
Sitting on the kitchen island were my wallet and my phone, which was plugged in and charging.
I couldn’t help but smile. He really had thought of it all.
My stuff wasn’t alone either. A perfect red rose was neatly tied with a black silk ribbon.
A pang of disappointment hit me with the realization that this was the very last rose I would receive.
Maybe I’d find a way to press it. Or preserve it.
Was that too weird? People did that sort of thing, but maybe not for something like this.
I didn’t have to explain it if anyone asked.
I could make up some simple lie that had nothing to do with the experience.
Or I didn’t have to explain anything at all.
Placed on a folded piece of paper was a chunky crimson box wrapped in the same kind of black silk ribbon tied around the rose.
Curious, I picked it up and undid the bow.
Settled inside was a gorgeous black watch—the kind of watch that screamed fancy and expensive and everything I couldn’t afford. It was a statement piece.
This couldn’t possibly be for me, even though it was sitting with all my things. It was far too nice. Instead of taking it out, I set the box aside and grabbed the paper to read the note.
Liam,
Be gentle with yourself. You spend far too much time carrying things that are not yours to carry. You deserve the freedom you let yourself feel last night.
The condo is yours today, should you choose to stay. There’s food, drinks, and anything else you might need to feel comfortable, should you want them.
There is also an after-experience questionnaire for you to fill out if you are interested. You have no obligation to do so, but the Society and I would appreciate it.
When you’re ready to leave, ask the guard downstairs to call you a car. He’ll make sure you’re taken care of and get home safely.
And yes, the watch is my gift to you. Read the inscription whenever you need a reminder.
-Owen
I read and reread the note several times.
Committing the words to memory felt a lot like carrying a piece of Owen with me.
Of course, some part of the message was clinical and detached—simple directions for me to follow—but there was something more to it.
Something between the lines that felt personal.
I reached for the watch once more and removed it carefully from the box. Sure enough, there was an inscription inside.
You are wanted every second.
The words made my chest constrict, and I forced out an unsteady breath. I told myself not to read into it. Not to assign meaning where there probably wasn’t any. Not to make more of something that was meant to be just one night. Not to believe there was something deeper to the gift from Owen.
Still, I slid the watch onto my wrist with every intention of wearing it always.