Chapter 21 #3
I started this practice with only Alessia in mind. But a colder, clearer truth followed: the damage of my silence wasn’t limited to her. There was someone else who had stood in my corner, year after silent year, who had never gotten the words either.
I looked across the table at Liam. My throat worked around the unfamiliar effort, the new muscles straining.
“Liam.”
He looked up, chewing slowly.
“I need to tell you something.” I took a steadying breath, forcing myself to hold his gaze.
“You’re important to me. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for.
You were—you are—always there. Even when I’m an insufferable, tunnel-visioned idiot.
Even when our friendship was just an arrangement between our fathers…
you stayed. You chose to stay. And I… I’m grateful. Thank you for that.”
Liam froze mid-chew, his eyes wide and unblinking, locked on me. Then horror washed over his face. He dropped his fork with a clatter.
“We will find a cure,” he declared, already pulling out his phone.
I frowned. “What?”
He looked up from his phone. “Whatever the doctor told you, it’s bullshit. We’ll get you to the best specialists. Does Alessia know about this?”
I scowled, completely lost. “Know about what?”
He let out an exasperated breath. “About you dying!”
I paused.
“Who said I was going to die?”
“You did!”
“When?”
He threw his hands up, the phone forgotten. “Just now! When you gave that speech.”
I raised my brows, stunned. “The speech about how I was glad to have you in my life?”
“Yes! Why else would you say those things if you weren’t dying?”
My head fell into my hands with a groan. “Are you serious right now?” I took a deep, steadying breath before looking up at him. “I can only say nice things to you if I’m on my deathbed?”
He scowled. “People do all kinds of weird stuff when they think they’re dying.”
I shook my head, a wave of regret washing over me. This was why I never said things to him.
“I am not dying. I just realized I’ve never actually told you how much I value having you in my life, so I did.”
He studied me, still suspicious.
“Are you sure you’re not dying?”
“Yes!” I snapped.
“Okay!” he said easily. “Just needed to check.”
We sat in silence for a while. I focused on my food, ignoring him.
He broke the silence, his voice softer. “Alessia leaving really did a number on you, huh?”
I took another bite. “You have no idea.”
He smiled, a small, knowing thing. “You’ll get her back.”
I looked up, searching his face for blind optimism. I found none. Just certainty.
“How do you know that?”
He shrugged, as if stating a fundamental law of the universe. “Because there are some people in this world who just… make sense together. You two have always made sense. Even when you were being an idiot.”
A sad, grateful smile touched my lips. It was the kind of faith I couldn’t afford to have for myself, so I was borrowing his.
“Hopefully she’ll think like that too, one day.”
“Oh, she will,” he said with easy confidence, leaning back. “But you’ve got a very, very long road ahead of you. Uphill. In the rain. Probably with some rocks falling.”
I nodded, staring at my plate, wishing with every fiber of my being for his words to be true.
“It’ll be worth it,” I said, the words so soft they were almost just a breath.
We finished the meal in a comfortable quiet. As we stood to leave, Liam turned to me, his expression serious.
“Just so you know,” he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “You’re my best friend too.”
I winced. “Actually, Alessia is my best friend. You’re a close second.”
He dropped his hand, scoffed, and shook his head as he pushed the door open.
“I can see why Alessia left you,” he tossed over his shoulder, leaving me rooted to the spot.
He stopped after a few steps and turned back, a sheepish grimace on his face.
“Was that too soon? It felt too soon.”
I finally moved, shoving his shoulder as I passed him. “It was too soon, you fucker.”
I strode toward the car, leaving him behind.
“Wait, I’m sorry! Come on!” he called after me, laughter breaking through his apology.
He’d forgotten I was the one who drove.
I was already in the driver’s seat, engine running, by the time he caught up, still chuckling.
It wasn’t until we were halfway back to the office that I realized it:
The entire time, that constant hum of anxiety—the one that told me I should be working, that I was abandoning my post—had been completely silent.
After months of strategy, negotiation, and relentless, focused work, the deal was done. The final signature was dry. The last condition met.
For weeks, I’d survived on memories alone. On the two brief moments I’d actually seen her. On restraint. On patience. Now, this was my bridge. My legitimate, concrete reason to step back into her world.
I entered the building, my footsteps sure on the polished floor. I stopped at the reception desk. A smile, genuine and unforced, touched my lips.
“Hello,” I said, my voice clear and calm in the quiet space. “I have an appointment with Alessia Quinn.”