Chapter Twenty
993 Words
The knock came at midnight.
Not Adrian's knock—three quick raps, a pause, then two more. This was different. Hesitant. Almost ashamed.
I looked through the peephole.
Liam.
Every instinct told me to walk away. Lock the door. Call Adrian. Call the police. Call anyone except the man who'd threatened my mother and kidnapped my cat.
But his face was different. Softer. Defeated.
"Please," he said through the door. "I just need five minutes."
I opened it.
---
He looked terrible.
Not the polished, white-suit Liam from the gala. This Liam had dark circles under his eyes. A week of stubble. Clothes that looked like he'd slept in them.
"You shouldn't be here," I said.
"I know."
"If Adrian finds out—"
"Adrian won't find out. Because you're going to hear me out and then I'm going to leave and we're never going to mention this again."
I crossed my arms. Blocked the doorway. "Say what you came to say."
Liam looked past me into the apartment. At the wildflowers. At the paperback. At the life I was trying to rebuild.
"I'm turning myself in tomorrow."
I blinked. "What?"
"The police. The DA. Whoever will take me. I'm confessing to everything."
"Liam—"
"I'm not asking for forgiveness." His voice cracked. "I'm not asking for anything. I just wanted someone to know that I'm... sorry."
I stared at him. The man who'd tried to destroy everything I cared about.
"Why are you telling me?"
"Because you're the only one who might believe me."
---
He sat on my stoop.
I stood in the doorway. Pickles watched from the window, tail flicking.
"The night my grandfather died," Liam said, "he called me into his room. Adrian wasn't there. He was at some business thing. And my grandfather—he told me something I've never told anyone."
"What did he say?"
"He said Adrian was the strong one. The one who could carry the company. The one who didn't need anyone." Liam looked up at the sky. "And then he said I was the kind one. The one who felt things. The one who needed to be loved."
"That doesn't sound like an insult."
"It wasn't. But I took it like one." He laughed, bitter and broken. "I spent ten years trying to be strong instead of kind. Trying to be Adrian. And I lost myself somewhere along the way."
"Isabel?"
"I loved her. But she didn't love me. She loved the idea of me—the Wolfe name, the money, the access. When Adrian got engaged to her, I couldn't... I couldn't breathe."
"So you tried to destroy him."
"So I tried to destroy everything." He put his head in his hands. "I'm not making excuses. I'm just... explaining. I know it doesn't change anything."
No. It didn't change anything.
But for the first time, I saw him as a person instead of a villain.
---
"Adrian should hear this," I said.
"He won't want to."
"He needs to."
Liam looked up. His eyes were red. "You think he'll forgive me?"
"I think that's between you and him."
He stood up. Brushed off his pants. Looked at me—really looked—like he was seeing me for the first time.
"You're good for him," he said. "I hope you know that."
"I'm working on it."
He nodded. Turned to go.
"Liam."
He stopped.
"Thank you for coming." I paused. "And for not hurting Pickles. You could have. You didn't."
Liam's face crumbled. Just for a second.
"He's a good cat," he said quietly. "He didn't deserve any of this."
Then he walked away.
And I watched him go, wondering if redemption was possible for someone who'd done so much wrong.
---
I called Adrian at one in the morning.
He answered on the first ring. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Everything. I don't know."
"Where are you?"
"Bleaker Street. Liam was just here."
Silence. Then: "I'm on my way."
"Adrian, it's one in the morning—"
"I don't care. Don't move. Don't open the door for anyone else. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
He hung up.
Pickles meowed.
I sat on the floor and waited.
---
He made it in fifteen.
Burst through the door, still in his pajamas, hair wild, eyes wilder. He grabbed my arms. Looked me over.
"Are you okay? Did he hurt you? What did he say?"
"I'm fine. He didn't touch me." I put my hands on his face. "Adrian. Breathe."
He breathed.
"He came to apologize," I said. "He's turning himself in tomorrow."
"That's a trick."
"I don't think so."
"Liam doesn't apologize. Liam schemes. Liam lies."
"Maybe." I stroked his cheek with my thumb. "Or maybe he's just broken. Like the rest of us."
Adrian pulled me into his arms. Held me so tight I could barely breathe.
"I thought I'd lost you," he said into my hair.
"You didn't."
"I thought you'd left and you weren't coming back and I'd spend the rest of my life wondering what I did wrong."
"Adrian—"
"I know you need time. I know you're scared. But I can't—" His voice broke. "I can't lose you, Ivy. I just can't."
I pulled back. Looked at him.
He was crying.
Adrian Wolfe, the coldest man in Manhattan, was crying on my kitchen floor.
"Stay," I said.
He blinked. "What?"
"Stay tonight. And tomorrow. And the day after. Until I figure out how to come home."
"You want me to stay?"
"I want you to stop leaving."
He kissed me. Right there, on the linoleum, with Pickles watching and the radiator clanking and the whole world falling apart outside.
"I love you," he said.
"I know."
"Say it back."
"I love you too."
He smiled. Real. Full. Beautiful.
Then he picked up Pickles, took my hand, and led me to the bedroom.
We didn't sleep.
But for the first time in weeks, I wasn't alone
- Writer
