Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHLOE
“ J ust tell me,” Liam demands, waving off the note. His gesture suggests he's comfortable with me hearing whatever business matter is at hand.
“Ms. Barron is on the phone again. She won’t wait until the morning,” he explains apologetically.
Liam exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in thought.
Robert and I watch him silently until he opens his eyes and sighs deeply.
“I’m sorry.” He looks at me apologetically. “Let me talk to her quickly,” he requests, seeking my understanding.
“It’s okay.” I nod, giving him a reassuring smile.
“I’ll be right back.” He stands swiftly to follow Robert inside the cabin on this level. They vanish, leaving me alone with the gentle sounds of the lapping water and my own swirling thoughts.
I feel a twinge of disappointment at Liam's abrupt departure. As overwhelming as our interactions can be—sometimes nearly unbearable under his intense gaze—they are also exhilarating.
I glance at the remnants of our meal—the pile of crab shells on the table. I don’t know how long Liam will be preoccupied, so I place my napkin on the table and stand up. No use in sitting here alone.
The phrase “I’ll be right back” is a promise I heard a lot from my father growing up, and he was never right back.
I head down the stairs to the lower deck, passing the kitchen and open-air seating area with gorgeous white sofas that cascade down to an inviting lower level with large outdoor daybeds. I float down the short staircase beside the built-in seating, each step illuminated from underneath, casting a romantic glow. A fire pit crackles with flames between two expansive daybeds, and just beyond, the infinity pool emits its own ghostly light into the night.
The setting is breathtakingly romantic, yet it feels almost eerie to be all alone here.
I walk to the edge of the deck, leaning against the glass railing where the light from the pool fades, and I’m cloaked mostly in darkness. I gaze out at the black waters, feeling the gentle sway of the massive yacht beneath me. The lights from shore are mere specks now, and I wonder how close we are to Catalina.
The night is exceptionally dark, and I realize it’s a new moon. My mother always believed the moon phases meant something. The moon controls the changing ocean tides, so I suppose it isn’t too far-fetched to imagine it might influence us humans too.
Liam has the most undeniable influence on me. I’m caught in his gravitational pull, and I don’t want to resist. But questions linger—the most obvious being, what the hell are we to each other now that we’re having sex?
I can feel the warring parts of my mind. Worries are bubbling up from my rational side, cautioning me. I’m going to get hurt.
But that pleasure-hungry part of me—wise in its own way—is telling me to calm the fuck down.
Why question this? It’s amazing, beautiful, and feels incredibly good.
Liam and I obviously care about each other. Why do we need to define this? I decide then that I need to stop being so analytical—a hazard of the job.
Strangely, Ashley, who is usually against defining relationships too soon, is my biggest critic on this. I’ve stopped asking her where things are going with the various men she sees. She’s often explained to me that defining things is like interrupting a great party—killing the music, turning on the lights—to ask if everyone is having fun.
Ashley insists I should end things with Liam, yet she thrives in undefined relationships. Maybe I should do as she does , not as she says.
Deep in contemplation, I gaze at the distant lights on shore and the stars above, their brilliance enhanced by the dark, moonless night.
“Chloe.” His deep voice is suddenly behind me, making me startle. I feel his hand gently touch my back.
I exhale sharply, my hand flying to my chest. “You scared me.” I manage a chuckle, turning to face him as I catch my breath.
He steadies me gently by the shoulders. “I’m sorry, I thought you heard me coming.”
“You’re too good at jump scares with all those horror movies of yours,” I tease.
He smirks, “You might be right.”
A light, warm breeze tousles a curl across my face, and Liam tucks it behind my ear. His fingers linger on my cheeks, sending a rush of pleasure through me. His gaze is intense, all-consuming, making me feel both vulnerable and cherished.
I hold his gaze, half-expecting a kiss, but instead, he smiles softly.
Leaning casually against the glass railing, he lets his other hand drift down, his light touch caressing my shoulder.
“You seemed lost in thought. What was on your mind?” He asks it like he already knows I was thinking about him.
But I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “The moon,” I answer truthfully. I’m hyper-aware that his fingers are now playing absentmindedly with the ends of my long, curly hair.
“The moon?” He chuckles at my unexpected answer, looking at me curiously.
“It’s a new moon,” I explain, looking up at the heavens, and he follows my gaze. “My mom was into astrology, so I’ve always paid attention to the moon phases and such.”
He regards me with a surprising seriousness. “So, what does a new moon mean?”
“New beginnings,” I reply, watching his reaction closely. His expression remains open, curious, not mocking or skeptical.
“My mom always said it’s the best time to start new things,” I add, feeling a twinge of sadness.
His eyes soften. “Seems like she was onto something.”
I can’t help but think he’s talking about us—our beginning—and it sends my heart racing anew.
“Yeah, I think she was,” I agree, my smile growing.
Looking up at Liam, I know my mom was right about more than just lunar cycles. There are inexplicable, magical things in the world. The wordless communication between us proves it. There is no way I can explain our connection, but it’s undeniably there.
He returns my smile, but quickly falters. His forehead creases, and I can tell he has something serious on his mind.
“Chloe, I want to tell you something,” he begins, his voice laden with hesitation.
Uh oh.
“Um…” He stops playing with the ends of my hair, his hand falling to his side. We’re no longer physically touching, and my mind races to interpret this as a bad sign— he’s pulling away . But I try to hush these unhelpful thoughts, focusing instead on his body language for clues.
He looks down, clearly thinking about how to phrase something. I can tell it’s something important.
“I—” he meets my eyes again, “I’ve been thinking about how to be more open with you.”
With you. Those words strike me. Our goal was for him to learn to be more open with other women . Yet his wording puts the focus on me.
Okay, brain—stop analyzing and listen.
He runs a hand through his hair, trying to relax enough to get out whatever he wants to say. “I told you that my dad left our lives when I was seven.”
I nod, remembering the horrific details of the abuse he and Olivia endured.
“Well, that’s not untrue, but I was evasive with the phrasing,” he admits, but I am only more confused now.
I notice his jaw clench as he gathers courage. I reach out and take his hand. He straightens up, covering my hand with his other one, holding it tightly as if pleading silently for me to understand what he’s about to say.
“I shot and killed my dad, Chloe.” He exhales, his eyes filled with pain.
I suck in a breath, taken aback by his confession.
“I found my mom’s gun before that night, and I—” He steadies himself, swallowing hard. “I went to get it when he was beating the shit out of her. He would have killed her,” he continues.
I see the anger and pain burning behind his eyes. His features are shadowed in the dim light, but there’s a faint glint of the tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over.
He watches me, vulnerable, and I realize he’s half expecting me to reject him and turn away.
But I won’t. I wrap my arms around him tightly, drawing him close. I feel his strong arms encircle me and his chin rest gently on top of my head.
“I’m so sorry, Liam,” I whisper, my voice muffled against his chest.
He was only seven. No child should endure such pain.
Tears prick at my own eyes, my heart aching for him.
He gently pulls back after a moment, leaning against the railing. “Everyone expected me to be broken,” he starts, his voice low. “They sent me to counselors and my teachers were always checking on me. It messed with my head because I didn’t feel that way.” He breathes out a sour laugh. “I started thinking something was wrong with me because I wasn’t disturbed by what I did.”
“Like you were messed up because you weren’t messed up,” I say quietly. I can relate all too well. After my mom passed, everyone expected me to be completely nonfunctional. I was hurting like hell inside, but I needed to continue living—for her. My dad was shocked when I still wanted to try out for volleyball. I didn’t recoil from life and everyone in it like he did.
“Yeah. I started to worry I was heartless, like him. But—” He pauses, swallowing hard, his hand finding my shoulder. “I don’t believe that anymore. He was an evil man, but I’m nothing like him, Chloe.”
I am taken aback that he’d think he needs to convince me of that fact.
“I know that,” I respond gently, placing my hand on his smooth, clean shaven cheek. His dark eyes search mine for affirmation. “I know that,” I repeat, ensuring he hears not just the words, but the conviction behind them.
Then, Liam’s lips are on mine. He pulls me close, his fingers lacing through my hair. His kisses are tender and urgent at the same time. I’m lost in him, consumed by his passion and the meaning behind his lips.
No man has ever kissed me like this.
“Excuse me, sir,” interrupts a voice.
I feel Liam tense and release me as he looks back to see Robert, our waiter, waving from the upper deck.
Liam turns to me, exhaling through clenched teeth. “I’d fire him now, but we’re too far from shore,” he mutters with a mix of irritation and apology for yet another disruption.
"He’s just doing his job—it must be important,” I whisper, giving a reassuring nod toward Robert.
Liam's jaw clenches as he calls out, "Yes, Robert?"
We're on the lower deck, open to the fresh sea air, and Robert is a good distance away, standing by the railing above the kitchen.
Robert’s voice carries over. “Sir, dolphins at the bow! Thought Ms. Middleton might want to see!”
Liam glances at me, one eyebrow quirked.
“Um, yes!” I beam.
Liam grins and takes my hand. We dash along the yacht’s length. The luxurious surroundings blur into insignificance as childlike excitement bubbles within me. Breathless, we reach the bow and I clutch the railing, leaning forward.
Below, dolphins slice through the water, leaving trails of light, glowing with neon blue. They look electric in the water, and I realize it’s the bioluminescent plankton I’ve heard about off the California coast.
“Oh, my God!” I gasp, amazed. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Liam’s arms stretch around me, each hand firmly grasping the railing on either side, his presence a comforting heat against my back.
Liam’s arm encircles me, his other hand grasping the railing on either side of me. His body is close, up against mine, and I can feel his warmth.
The dolphins race alongside us, leaving trails of sparkling blue, the boat splashing a neon wake. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
“Did you plan this?” I laugh, my voice filled with awe, though I know he couldn’t possibly orchestrate such a spectacle. It’s not like he hired the dolphins. Though I suspect he knew about the bioluminescence tonight.
He simply smiles, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek—a gesture so sweet it makes me lean further back into the comfort of his embrace.
We stand there, enveloped in the natural magic until the yacht begins to slow and the dolphins peel away.
Puzzled, I look up at Liam. “Why are we stopping?”
His grin is infectious. “Up for a swim?”