Chapter Thirty-Seven—Liam
The hotel restaurant is trying very hard to pretend it’s a normal morning.
White plates. Polished silverware. Soft music. Waiters moving around with coffee pots like nothing at this table is about to go sideways.
Nobody’s touched the food.
Andrew has been staring at his phone for the last five minutes like it might do something different if he waits long enough. Ethan has his laptop open beside his coffee, which would mean something if he’d looked at the screen even once.
I’m on my second espresso and considering a third.
So I wave the waiter over.
Ethan doesn’t even look up. “No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You made eye contact with the waiter.”
“That’s how restaurants work.”
“You don’t need more caffeine.”
“Need is a strong word.”
Andrew still hasn’t looked up. “Order the coffee, Liam.”
“Thank you. Finally, someone emotionally supportive.”
Ethan glances at him. “Andrew wants you overcaffeinated so you annoy me instead of him.”
“That’s still support.”
The waiter arrives. I order another espresso and three orange juices no one asked for, because at this point somebody at this table should be getting vitamins.
When he leaves, the silence settles back in.
Not awkward.
Just heavy enough to settle over the whole table.
It’s been almost 24 hours since we left Connor’s building after Riley asked us to.
Andrew flips his phone over. Face down this time.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Compelling.”
His jaw tightens.
Ethan finally closes the laptop. Good. We can all stop pretending the Harrington deal is getting any attention right now.
“She texted last night,” Andrew says.
“I know. I was there.”
“She said she was getting there.”
“Yeah.”
He looks at me. “You believe her?”
I lean back in my chair.
“I believe she meant it,” I say. “I don’t think that means she’s okay.”
Andrew absorbs that without responding.
Ethan’s phone rings before anything else can land.
He checks the screen and stands. “Harrington.”
“Perfect,” I mutter. “This morning was getting too relaxing.”
He walks a few steps away. Andrew and I both pretend not to listen. It doesn’t last.
“I understand the concern,” Ethan says, calm and steady. “The timeline is still on track. Connor has personal logistics to handle this week.”
Personal logistics.
That’s one way to put it.
Ethan finishes the call and comes back.
“Harrington investor,” he says. “Connor canceled two meetings.”
Andrew exhales. “Of course he did.”
“They’re questioning stability,” Ethan adds.
I let out a short laugh. “Love that for us.”
“Liam.”
“No, it’s great. Our personal lives are a mess, Connor hates us, Riley’s figuring out what she wants, and now the investors are nervous. Feels on brand.”
Andrew leans forward. “Do you want to go back?”
“Yes.”
The answer’s out before I can soften it.
Ethan looks at me. “We agreed to give her space. Let her decide.”
“You agreed on twenty-four hours,” I say. “I said it so I didn’t go back ten minutes later and make things worse.”
Andrew watches me. “She wanted this.”
I drag a hand down my face.
“Okay, but realistically, how long before we’re allowed to touch her again? Because I’m already suffering.”
Andrew gives me a look. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
Ethan doesn’t even look up. “Remarkable priorities.”
“No,” I say immediately. “That’s just the only part I’m willing to say out loud.”
“She knows where we are,” Andrew says.
“Does she?”
Ethan’s phone lights up. Then Andrew’s. Then mine.
Sarah: He’s not okay. He’s not shutting down either. Give him a little time.
Andrew exhales like something in his chest loosened.
“That’s good,” he says.
“It’s something,” Ethan replies.
“It’s good enough for now.”
The waiter returns with my espresso and the three orange juices. He sets them down carefully and leaves like he wants no part of whatever this is.
I slide one toward Andrew.
He frowns. “What is this?”
“Preventative care.”
“I’m not drinking that.”
“You look like you haven’t slept in three days.”
“I haven’t.”
“Exactly.”
He stares at me, then picks it up and takes a drink.
Ethan watches that. “Remarkable.”
“I’m very persuasive.”
“No one has ever accused you of restraint.”
“Not a skill I value.”
Before I can say anything else, my phone lights up again.
Riley: I’m okay. I just need a little space today.
I read it once. Then again.
The text should make me feel better but it doesn’t.
No question, no follow-up, no are you okay, no where are you, no I’ll text later.
Just clean. Closed.
Andrew looks at me. “What?”
“That doesn’t sound like her.”
Ethan goes still.
Andrew shakes his head. “She said she needs space.”
“I know. That part makes sense.” I tap the table once, then stop. “But the way she wrote it. No question or check-in. That’s not her.”
“What do you mean?”
“It's not what she said. It's what she didn't. She'd normally leave a door open—a question, a 'I'll text later.' This is tied off. I know what that looks like.”
Andrew’s jaw tightens. “You don’t know that.”
“No. I don’t.” I hold his gaze. “But I know what it looks like when someone starts pulling back before they’re ready to walk away.”
The table goes quiet.
Ethan leans back slightly. “Or she’s overwhelmed.”
“She is overwhelmed,” I say. “That doesn’t mean she’s not also trying to make this easier to step away from.”
Andrew pushes his chair back, then stops himself before standing.
I soften a little. “Hey. I’m not saying she’s gone.”
He doesn’t answer.
Ethan watches both of us. “We don’t rush her.”
“And we don’t disappear on her either,” I say.
Ethan nods once. “Agreed.”
Andrew looks between us, then back at his phone.
I pick mine up and open the group chat.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Leaving the door open.”
Liam: Take the space. We’re at the hotel across the street. No pressure. Just… I miss you.
I pause, then add:
Liam: And don’t disappear on us, okay?
I hit send before I can rethink it.
Ethan exhales. “Subtle.”
“I tried.”
Andrew doesn’t say anything.
We wait.
Ten seconds. Twenty.
Then the typing bubble appears.
Disappears.
Comes back.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter. “That thing should be illegal.”
Andrew lets out a rough breath that might be a laugh.
Then her reply comes through.
Riley: I’m not disappearing.
Three words.
Enough to let me breathe again.
Andrew closes his eyes briefly. Ethan’s shoulders ease just a fraction.
I type back:
Liam: Good. I was two minutes away from faking a medical emergency just to get back over there.
A second later:
Riley: Please don’t make me laugh right now.
There she is.
Not okay. Not even close.
But still here.
I lean back in my chair and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“She answered?” Andrew says quietly.
“Yeah.”
Ethan picks up his coffee. “We wait.”
I look at the table. The cold food. The untouched plates. The three glasses of orange juice.
Waiting still sucks.
But at least now we know she hasn’t closed the door.