Chapter 21 #2
Liam laughed, a breathless, happy sound. "You have an insatiable appetite, Finance Manager."
"I need fuel," she kissed his nose. "That was... a vigorous workout."
Ten minutes later, decency restored and joggers pulled up, they sat side by side at the island. The chocolate pancakes were fluffy, rich, and decadent, drowning in maple syrup. The coffee was strong and hot.
They ate with the voracious hunger of two people who had just burned a thousand calories.
"So," Emi said, wiping a smudge of chocolate from her lip. "What's the plan for the rest of the day? More cardio?"
"Rest day," Liam declared. "I was thinking the sofa. Netflix. Maybe a rom-com so we can critique the architecture of the male lead’s apartment."
"Perfect," Emi beamed.
They moved to the living room, settling into the deep grey sectional. Emi curled up under a cashmere throw, resting her head on Liam’s chest. He wrapped his arm around her, his fingers idly playing with her hair.
They put on The Holiday.
"See," Liam pointed at the screen. "That cottage is a nightmare. The heating bill alone would bankrupt her. And the plumbing? Ancient."
"It's romantic, Liam," Emi sighed. "It’s cozy. Not everything has to be LEED certified."
"Cozy is code for drafty," he muttered, but he kissed the top of her head.
As the movie played, the conversation drifted away from the screen and into the territory of the real.
"Do you think about it?" Emi asked softly, during a scene where the characters were surrounded by children. "A family?"
Liam muted the TV. He looked down at her, his expression serious but tender.
"I do," he said. "I think about it a lot. I have this big apartment... the sharks are great company, but they don't exactly fill the rooms with laughter."
Emi traced the pattern on his hoodie. "I want that. I grew up in a loud house. Four girls. It was chaotic and we didn't have money, but it was alive. I want a house that's alive. Maybe not four... but alive."
"Two sounds good," Liam mused. "A boy and a girl. Or two girls. I could build them a treehouse. A structurally sound treehouse."
Emi laughed. "With proper zoning permits?"
"Obviously."
"I worry sometimes," Emi admitted, her voice dropping. "Because of my sisters. I feel like I'm already raising two kids from a distance. I worry I won't have enough left for my own."
Liam tightened his grip on her. "Love isn't a finite resource, Emi. It’s not a bank account. You don't overdraw it. It expands. Like the lungs of the bike. The more you use it, the more capacity you have."
Emi looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You really believe that?"
"I know it," Liam said. "And besides... you're not doing it alone anymore. You have a partner. A partner with a very large vehicle and a lot of patience."
Emi smiled, snuggling closer. She didn't know the specifics of his plan—the plane tickets, the winter coats—but she felt the intention behind his words. She felt the foundation he was pouring for them.
"We have the same vision," she whispered. "That makes me happy."
"Infinite happiness," Liam corrected. "That’s the goal."
The day passed in a blur of lazy comfort. They ordered lunch in, napped in the afternoon sun, and simply existed in each other's orbit. There were no shadows, no ghosts of ex-boyfriends, no work stress. Just the two of them in the biosphere of the penthouse.
As evening fell, painting the sky in deep indigo, Liam drove her back to Brooklyn. The ride in the Ford Expedition was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence.
He walked her to her door, kissing her deeply under the streetlight.
"I'll see you Monday," he said. "At the stairwell. 2:00 PM."
"I'll be there," Emi promised. "Dream of treehouses."
"Always."
Emi unlocked her door and stepped inside. Her apartment felt different now. It didn't feel like a waiting room for a life that might happen; it felt like a part of a life that was already in motion.
She didn't go to her skincare routine immediately. She sat on her sofa and pulled out her phone. She needed to share this feeling. She needed validation from the one person who knew her history.
She initiated a video call.
Connecting…
Tracey’s face appeared on the screen. It was Sunday afternoon in South Africa. She was sitting in the small garden, a cup of tea in her hand.
"Hey, New York," Tracey smiled. "You look... glowing. Did you win the lottery?"
"Better," Emi beamed, tucking her legs under her. "I spent the weekend with Liam."
Tracey sat up straighter. "Oh? The Architect? The one with the three-piece suits?"
"The one and only," Emi said. "Tracey, it’s... it’s real. We talked about family today. We talked about kids. He wants the same things I do. He’s not scared of the future."
Tracey watched her sister carefully. She saw the light in Emi’s eyes—a light that had been extinguished five years ago by a phone call in the rain. It was back, brighter than before.
"He sounds wonderful, Em," Tracey said warmly.
"He is," Emi gushed. "He made me chocolate pancakes this morning. He drives me everywhere so I don't have to take the subway. He listens to me. He’s... he’s a gentleman. A real one."
Tracey took a sip of her tea to hide the knowing smile on her lips. She thought about the email sitting in her inbox, the one from Liam detailing flight numbers and visa appointments. She thought about the polite, respectful tone he used, asking for permission to fly the family out as a surprise.
He’s not just a gentleman, Tracey thought. He’s a man on a mission.
"Be careful, Emi," Tracey said, playing the devil's advocate just enough to keep the secret. "Nobody is perfect. Are you sure he’s not too good to be true?"
"I thought that at first," Emi admitted. "I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to disappear or change. But... he’s just solid. He calls it discipline. Shitsuke. He builds his life on habits, not moods. I think I can trust him."
Tracey felt a lump in her throat. Emi deserved this. After the years of sacrifice, of sending money, of raising the girls from a distance, she deserved a man who built treehouses and cooked pancakes.
"Then trust him," Tracey said softly. "Trust your gut. If he makes you happy, lean into it. We’re all rooting for you here, Sisi."
"I wish you could meet him," Emi sighed. "I wish you were all here."
Tracey had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Oh, sweet girl, just you wait.
"One day," Tracey said vaguely. "Maybe sooner than you think. Now go get some sleep. You have a big career to manage."
"I love you, Trace," Emi blew a kiss at the camera.
"Love you too. Tell the Architect we approve."
The screen went black.
Tracey sat back in her garden chair, looking up at the South African sky. She imagined her sister in New York, happy and loved. She thought about the secret she was keeping.
"Well, Ran," she whispered to the wind, thinking of the boy who had called her a few weeks ago. "You lost a Queen. But it looks like she found herself a King."
Back in Brooklyn, Emi hugged her phone to her chest. She looked around her empty apartment, but she didn't see the emptiness.
She saw the space where the future would go.
She saw the holidays. She saw the family.
And for the first time, the distance between Brooklyn and Pietermaritzburg didn't feel like an ocean; it felt like a bridge that was just waiting to be crossed.