Chapter 37 Liam
Liam
The night was looser and louder than half an hour ago. I threaded my way along the edge of the dance floor, scanning faces. Where the hell was she?
Hugo promised me traction. And I owed it in part to Andrea—it felt like we were a team. I wanted to tell her the news. The drug could be used where it had always been meant to be used. On civilians and kids. People who didn’t get a say in where the bombs landed.
Then I saw her. She was at the bar, under the trees.
I felt that familiar lift, every single time.
I resisted the urge to jog over and picked up my stride instead. She looked so composed and elegant, leaning in like she was listening to someone.
I stopped.
She was listening to someone. Was that Toby? What the hell?
He was far too close, leaning over her with his arm draped across her shoulders.
I stayed where I was.
Andrea nodded at something he said. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t lean away either. What were they talking about? She’d clearly been unimpressed by him over dinner yesterday. Should I intervene?
But Andrea was perfectly capable of handling an awkward conversation. She didn’t need me inventing reasons to step in like some sort of caveman.
She lifted her glass, took a small sip, then set it back down.
Toby said something else, his mouth curving as he leaned closer. I saw Andrea’s shoulders tense, then she shifted on the stool, turning slightly toward the bar, pulling her elbow toward her body.
He bent closer, then whispered in her ear, placing a hand on her arm.
Everything around me stilled. I saw her free hand come up, fingers brushing her throat. She held it there, a shiver passing over her shoulders.
A reflex.
She’s uncomfortable.
I felt the hesitation snap and crossed the floor quickly, stopping just short of them. Up close, her lips were tight, arms pulled into herself.
I stood over him.
“Oh.” Toby’s head tipped back and his eyes flashed like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Roth. Good to—”
“You’re done here, Toby. Fuck off.”
Andrea glanced up at me.
“We were just talking, Roth. No need to get twitchy.” He smirked, but his face was pale beneath the swagger.
My hands at my sides itched to turn into fists. I flexed them outward. It had been a long time since I’d seen a face as punchable as Toby’s.
He held my gaze a moment longer than necessary, then the self-confident smile slipped back into place. He rolled his eyes.
“So sensitive, Roth. I was leaving anyway.”
And then he was gone.
Andrea was watching my face.
“Shall we get out of here?” I asked.
“Where?”
“A walk? Down by the lake. It’s quieter.”
She slipped off her shoes and picked them up with one hand.
“Well?” she said. “Come on then.”
*
Next to me, Andrea walked soundlessly on the damp grass, the trees looming large as we skirted the forest’s edge.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I’m fine.”
She didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t reach for my hand. Her feet must have been cold like that, without shoes.
A knot lay heavy in my stomach. I’d been so focused on Hugo. I should have been focused on her.
The breeze picked up, and she hugged herself. The gesture was so small and vulnerable that it made me desperate to put my arm around her, but I wasn’t sure if I should.
“Andrea,” I said. “What happened back there, with Toby. I should never have left you alone with him. You’re here with me, and—”
“I said I was fine, Liam.”
“I was talking to Hugo,” I said, “and then before that, after you left—”
“It’s okay. I don’t expect you to stand next to me all the time.”
But I want to. I want to be there for her, whenever she needs me.
“I went to the bathroom,” she said. “You wouldn’t come there with me, I assume. And I could see you were busy when I got back.”
So she had seen Sveta.
“I wasn’t busy. I was waiting there for you.”
She scoffed, a small snarky sound under her breath. “I know we’re not together. You can talk to whoever you want. It’s cool, honestly.”
“But I only wanted to talk to you, Andrea.”
She didn’t reply.
“Did you get what you needed from Hugo?” she asked.
“I did.”
But that didn’t seem important anymore. Not compared to this. I’d hurt her.
“I don’t know what to make of you, Liam,” she said.
“I don’t understand.”
“This,” she said. “It’s like your dating CV all over again. I feel like you give me the bare minimum. You’re so … curated. Like I just get the parts of you that you want me to see.”
“Is curated … better than intimidating?”
She laughed, but it sounded hollow. “Maybe. I guess.”
She looked away from me, into the trees.
“You stepped in back there, with Toby.” She paused. “Like you cared about me, like you had some sort of … claim. And I don’t know if that’s who you are, or just when it suits you.” She paused. “Is she waiting for you inside?”
Hugo was right. Allowing Sveta anywhere near me had been a poor choice.
Fuck.
“Her name’s Sveta,” I said.
“Sveta.” She said it under her breath. “Of course it is.”
“No, Andrea, she’s not—I mean. Look, she’s just someone I used to—”
“It’s okay, Liam, I know you normally date models and influencers, or whatever. I get it. And I know this”—she waved at the space between us—“is just a deal. You needed someone to make you look steady, and I checked the right boxes.”
She was resigned. Didn’t she know that barely an hour went by when I wasn’t thinking about her? Could she not tell that I felt more connected to her than anyone else before her? That one afternoon in her bed hadn’t felt like nearly enough?
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
My fingers clenched. I knew what I wanted; I could already see it. Her beside me, laughing, teasing, never letting me hide behind charm or money or excuses. Holding me to a higher standard. A future less bleak. Something real.
The words felt dangerous, even as they formed.
“It’s the first thing I’ve ever had that felt like it mattered.”
She stopped walking. “Liam. Please … don’t …
” When she turned to me, her eyes were full of tears.
“I’ve seen how you live … the people, the places …
all of it. I don’t belong in your world.
I don’t know the rules, and I say the wrong things.
I can’t even check into a hotel without making a mess of it.
” She swallowed. “So please don’t tell me you want this unless you’ve really thought about it.
Because your life is nothing like mine, and I just … don’t fit.”
For a moment, I couldn’t answer.
Was that how she’d been feeling all this time? Despite how smart, and pretty, and talented she was, she still believed she wasn’t enough? I’d thought she was holding back, but all this time, she’d been bracing.
“You fit …”
My voice came out quieter than I expected.
“With me.”
She didn’t answer.
Then a drop hit my hand, followed by another. I glanced up at the sky, but dark clouds had swallowed what was left of the moon. Shit, we were at least a fifteen-minute walk from the chateau, miles away from everything down here by the forest.
Rain touched the back of my neck. We had less than a minute before it would be falling hard, like last night, and we’d be drenched.
“Andrea,” I said. “Come with me.”
I grabbed her hand and tried to remember the way, our feet slipping on the wet grass as we cut across the garden instead of staying on the path. I could just about make out the dark shapes of the hamlet cottages ahead, their small roofs and shuttered windows hardly visible in the dark.
“Here,” I said. We reached the small stone porch and stopped, both of us breathing hard. I pushed the door open to get us out of the rain.
“Liam, what is this place?”
“Old disused cottages,” I said. “People haven’t lived in them for years.”
Inside, the room was smaller than I expected, with a stone floor, bare walls, and a low beam running across the ceiling.
Someone had left a wooden table against one side and a narrow bench beside the cold fireplace.
The air held that deep chill stone buildings kept even in summer.
It smelled faintly of damp wood and old plaster, but it was dry and solid.
I tried the light switch, but nothing happened.
“We’ll just shelter here for a minute until it stops,” I said. “Is that okay?”
Rain hammered harder on the roof, as if to prove me wrong. The music from the chateau had faded completely. Poor Nick and Juliette, their wedding party was over.
“Not sure we have much choice,” she said, shaking water from her hair.
The room was cool, and she was soaked through, the rain showing no sign of easing.
I went to the hearth and checked it. Dry wood was already stacked there—they must have used these places more recently than I’d thought.
I found matches on the narrow mantel and crouched to light the kindling, waiting as the flame struggled, then finally caught and spread an orange glow across the room.
When I looked over at her, she was shivering, wet silk clinging to her skin.
“Are you okay?”
“Just cold,” she said. Her dress was no longer pale and summery—the color had darkened into a deep, sodden purple.
I took off my jacket and held it in front of the fire. It was completely drenched too, but the lining was dry.
“Here,” I said. “This should be warm.” Her skin looked paler than it should. “Come and sit by the fire.”
I opened a cupboard next to the fireplace, and a thick woolen rug tumbled out. It looked surprisingly clean, considering how dusty the room was.
“Let’s sit on this,” I said. “Better than the floor.”
I laid it out in front of the fire, and she sat next to me, knees pulled up under her chin.
I placed the jacket gently around her shoulders and held it there, my hand pressed into her arm.
After a few minutes, the shivering stopped and she loosened her grip on the lapel of my coat, her shoulders softening.
“I thought France was meant to be hot in August,” she said, giving me the side-eye. “If I’d known it would be like this, I’d have brought my wellies.”
“Perhaps we didn’t time our forest walk very well,” I said.