I look away, staring at the condensation on my glass. She's right, and I hate it. I've built walls so high that even I can't see over them anymore.
The waiter appears with our second round, setting down fresh martinis. I take mine immediately, grateful for the interruption, and take a long sip that burns going down.
"You're doing that thing," Chloe observes, watching me over the rim of her glass.
"What thing?"
"That thing where you retreat into your head and start building your case. I can literally see you compiling a mental list of all the reasons why this woman is wrong for you." She tilts her head. "How many are you up to? Ten? Fifteen?"
"I'm not—" I start, but she cuts me off.
"I know you, Liv."
"So what do you want me to do?" I ask. "Just forgive her because she sent flowers and move on like nothing happened?"
"No," Chloe says. "But I think you need to be honest about why you're so angry. Is it really just about the lying? People lie for all kinds of reasons, and some of them are actually understandable. Or is it that she got past your defenses and that terrifies you?" She pauses. "I want you to think about whether you're refusing to call her back because you're genuinely done, or because you're scared of getting hurt again. Because there's a difference."
40
BLAIR
Ipace across my bedroom floor for what feels like the hundredth time in the past hour. Through the closed door, I hear voices—people asking questions, Liv giving directions. Hearing her voice again causes a shiver to run down my spine.
"Champagne glasses at one o'clock from the dinner plate," she's saying. "Water glasses to the right. Have you not looked at the table design? It's pretty straightforward and it's only for two. Come on, people, this should be easy."
My heart hammers against my ribs. It worked. She’s here.
Sam, my loyal assistant's plan was brilliant in its simplicity. She contacted Liv's company, claiming to represent a wealthy couple who needed an emergency elopement arranged. "Very small, very private, very exclusive," Sam explained to me. "An easy, last-minute job that would be too lucrative for her to turn down." The story was that the couple had decided to elope some time this week instead of having their huge planned wedding next month—family drama, cold feet about the big production, the usual reasons wealthy people suddenly opt for intimate ceremonies. She mentioned they were flexible with dates, whichgave Liv's team the option to choose a time that worked with their existing schedule and squeeze them in.
Sam fed Liv's team an address—my address—claiming it was the bride's penthouse. She provided a substantial deposit and emphasized the need for absolute discretion.
Essentially I'm paying to talk to Liv, for her to hear me out. But she's been ignoring me, so I have no choice. If, after tonight, she still wants nothing to do with me, I'll leave her alone forever.
"Where's the officiant?" Liv asks someone. "The bride and groom will be here soon and the ceremony is supposed to start in twenty minutes."
"Must be the traffic," comes a male voice. "It's bad tonight."
I squeeze my eyes shut. There is no officiant. There's no couple eloping. There's just me, hiding in my bedroom, waiting to have a moment with the woman I adore.
I've never been unable to get a woman out of my head, never found myself orchestrating schemes just for five minutes of someone's time.
"The roses look beautiful." Liv's voice again, and I can hear the soft scrape of furniture being adjusted on the terrace. "And so do the candles. Good job."
The elevator chimes, and Sam's voice cuts through the ambient sounds of preparation.
"Hi, are you Olivia Barnes? We spoke on the phone. I'm Sam, the bride's personal assistant."
There's a brief pause, and then I hear Sam let out a low whistle. "Wow. I just came to check everything looked good, but this is absolutely incredible. She'll be very pleased."
"Well, it has to be perfect," comes Liv's response. "When someone trusts me with their most important day, they get nothing short of extraordinary. Are the bride and groom en route?"
"Yes, they should be here within the next few minutes," Sam replies smoothly. "Actually, would it be possible to clear out everyone except the pianist, the waiter, and the chef? They're both very private people. Oh, and you’ll stay too, right?"
"Of course," Liv says. "I'll brief the officiant when he arrives."
I hear her addressing her team—thanking them for their work.
Then comes the knock on my bedroom door—Sam's signal that it's time.
