Taryn
I step into Rowan O’Toole’s townhouse—my new home—in a daze.
There are boxes stacked against the walls, my things shoved into corners just waiting to be put away.
The place is the polar opposite of my old campus home.
No bright pink or dark purple walls. No mismatched surrealist paintings.
No hodgepodge of clashing colors that scream personality.
Rowan’s place is all muted grays, leather furniture, and clean lines—like someone opened a catalog and clicked “add to cart” on the bachelor pad starter kit. It’s sleek. Minimal. A little cold. But somehow, that’s easier to take in than the chaos of what I’ve just left behind.
I recognize Stephanie’s Boggeta Veneta overnight bag sitting on the coffee table, a folded note taped to the top. My chest tightens when I see her loopy handwriting. I pull it free and read:
Hey, badass. I packed what you’ll need for tonight in this bag—clothes, toiletries, your favorite lotion, and your notebook.
We tried to label all the other boxes. Your laptop and backpack are inside the office door.
I know this is insane, but you’re tougher than all of them put together.
When you’re ready to talk, I’m here. Always.
And for what it’s worth, Liam’s a good guy.
Maybe the overprotective and unhinged kind of good, but still good. You can make this work. Love you.
I press the note to my chest, breathing in through my nose to keep from crying again. God, I needed this reminder.
I drop the bag and take a breath. Shake it off.
I need to get on with life. There’s no point wallowing.
This is my reality now: Liam. This townhouse.
This marriage. I’ll make it work. I’ll unpack, get my bearings, and then I’ll apply to UChicago Law like I just informed everyone I would.
One step at a time. I can do this. I will do this.
Compartmentalize. Keep moving forward. Create the future I want. So what if I have a husband now?
My God. I have a husband now. I need to breathe. Just breathe. I refuse to fall apart again.
I wander down the short hallway to see a room converted to an office.
I pull out my backpack, which is exactly where Stephanie said it would be, and reach for the phone charger.
I plug in my dead phone and notice all my missed messages.
Gráinne. Elizabeth. Steph. I’ve even got one from my sister, Neve: a meme about dark nights and bright dawns.
All encouraging. All trying their best to reassure me with texts I missed before my wedding.
However, one message stops me in my tracks:
Liam: I know this isn’t the life you dreamed of, beauty.
Hell, it’s not how I imagined things unfolding either.
But you’re not alone in this. Remember, we’ll make this marriage ours…
whatever we want it to be. I’ll make things good for you, I promise.
No one will hurt you again. (Or, I’ll enjoy making them regret it.
). See you at the courthouse, but call me if you need me. I’ll be there.
My breath catches halfway through the message, and by the time I reach the last line, my chest feels too tight, like I can’t quite breathe.
It’s not what he’s saying—it’s the way he says it.
Certain. Unapologetic. Like the world can fall apart and Liam McGuiness will still stand between me and the wreckage.
Like everything is just fine. Dear Lord.
Why is he this way? Promising forever to a girl he barely knows.
Making threats with a winking emoji. The rest of the world would think Liam was joking. I know better now.
I sink onto the office chair, my phone trembling slightly in my hand. It’s terrifying, the kind of promise he’s making. Terrifying because I believe him.
I steady myself before wandering back into the hall. There’s a TV room, and then, the one bedroom. It’s apparently our new bedroom, and my eyes take in the massive dresser and open closet door, which is already full of my clothes. As I’m halfway inside the room, I stop when it hits me.
Of course there’s only one bed. In the entire house.
A laugh slips out, a little manic. “This is…what? A cheesy romance novel?” I mutter under my breath. “Next, he’ll insist I take the bed while he gallantly sleeps on the couch. Or, maybe we can build a pillow wall.”
But before I can enjoy that mental image, Liam steps into the doorway behind me. He doesn’t look at the bed. He looks at me.
“That won’t be happening,” he says, his voice friendly but with a hint of challenge. “You’ll always sleep beside me, Taryn.”
I blink, my laugh dying in my throat.
He steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continues, softer now. “I won’t force you into anything. It’s been a long day. You can just…” A faint smile tugs at his lips. “Be the little spoon tonight.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I hate how my stomach flutters at the thought.
“I’ve got to run to my old place first,” he shares.
“Your lovely friends were super helpful with your belongings, but my friends suck. I’ve got to go pack a few things.
I also need to catch up with my brother on a few issues.
You could come with me.” He gives me a soft smile as he offers me the choice.
“But, I have a feeling you might want to get settled in here first. That you might want a little space. I’m afraid an hour or so is all I’m willing to give you. ”
I clear my throat. “I want to start unpacking. I guess we can go grocery shopping tomorrow?”
I sound so domestic. Geez. It occurs to me that I don’t even know what he likes to eat.
Or drink. Or, how we’ll pay for anything.
I mean, I used to take money from my parents.
But, I’m a married woman now. Surely, I shouldn’t be relying on my father anymore, right?
All my savings are tied up in some scandalous investment account.
Does Liam have any of his own money? How would he?
He doesn’t work that I know of. Wait. Does he work?
I take a deep breath before I can spiral.
I assure myself I’m fine. Absolutely fine.
“I’m not sure what’s going through that thick skull of yours”—Liam grins—“but whatever it is, know that we’ll figure it out together. I promise you we will have the refrigerator stocked. Okay?”
How can he possibly be smiling again? “Do you have a personality disorder?” I blurt the words. My hand flies to cover my mouth. I cannot believe I asked that.
Liam throws back his head and roars with laughter.
It’s a deep, rich sound that gets under my skin.
It goes on for what feels like a minute before he pauses to wipe at his eyes.
“You’re perfect,” he tells me before chuckling again.
“And, yeah. I’m sure I do. I can’t think of anyone at this college who doesn’t have a personality disorder of some sort. ”
Wait a minute. “Hey! I go to this college.”
He chuckles again. “You’re quick tonight. Yes, Taryn Kathleen, I was referring to you as well.”
“Did you just middle name me?” I scoff at him.
Liam’s grin is wide. “Beauty, it may have escaped your notice, but I just last named you as well.”
When my mouth drops open at his reference to our marriage, he saunters over to put his arms around me. Hugs me to him. “It’s okay, Mrs. McGuiness. I know it’ll take a while to get used to.”
I sigh against him. Maybe I won’t unpack. Maybe I’ll go straight to bed. Curl up under the new bedding and go to sleep. But, then, I feel it.
“Uh, Liam.”
“Yes, beauty?”
“Does my new last name excite you?” I can feel his hard length against my stomach.
He kisses the top of my head. “Pretty much everything about you excites me. But, yes, at the moment, I’m finding out I have a kink regarding calling you my wife. Part of my personality disorder, I’m sure.” He shrugs. “I don’t hate it.”
I don’t know what to say to that, but I find I don’t want to let go of him. I’ve never been a clingy person, but I grip him tighter. I feel like, if he leaves right now, I’ll fall apart despite my best efforts to pretend this is all no big deal.
Liam is quiet for a long moment as we hold each other, his hand moving slow and steady over my back. Finally, he lowers his mouth to my hair and murmurs, “I want this, Taryn.”
“What?” My voice is hushed, barely audible. I pull back to look at him.
“You. Us. This life.” His eyes search mine. “I know it’s not normal. We barely know each other. But somehow—” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “Somehow, in just a couple weeks, I’ve been more myself with you than I’ve been with anyone in my entire life.”
He brushes his knuckles down my cheek. “People like me. They always have. But it’s surface.
It’s easy. I don’t think I ever realized how much I was performing—until I didn’t have to with you.
You’ve seen everything. The pressure. The darkness.
You’ve seen me angry, jealous, reckless—and you didn’t flinch. ”
He pauses and his breath hitches, just once. “You make me feel…whole, Taryn. Not because you fix me. But because when I’m with you, I don’t feel broken.”
My throat tightens. One tear slips free before I can stop it, and Liam gently swipes it away with his thumb.
“I’m not used to this,” I whisper. “Talking about feelings. Letting someone see me. I don’t even know how to explain it. I wasn’t raised to hide exactly. I was always free to be myself—as long as that version of me fit inside a perfectly curated little box.”
His hand stills against my cheek.
“But with you?” I continue, voice shaking.
“I don’t have to work so hard. I can say the wrong thing or fall apart a little, and you won’t use it against me.
You listen to me. And even though it makes no sense, I’m having a very hard time with that.
You’re not what I expected. I’ve spent so long thinking about escaping this life that it’s hard for me to focus on something else.
Someone else. But, I’m not going to lie to you. I want to try.”
His brows pull together, like my words have stunned him.
“I’m not saying I’m ready to pour my heart out over breakfast,” I add with a faint, wry smile. “But I’m saying I will try. That’s all I can promise.”
Liam exhales like I’ve handed him something sacred. He leans in, pressing his forehead to mine.
“Trying is all I’ve ever wanted from you, beauty,” he whispers. “And you’re already doing that.”