Her laugh hiccups into a sound dangerously close to a sob.
“I mean it,” I tell her, letting my hand rest warm against her jaw. “We’re going to get through this. Trust me. I’ll handle the hard shit, and you just…breathe. That’s all I need from you right now. We can figure out the rest later.”
Her eyes finally meet mine, wide and searching.
“You were brilliant back there,” I continue. “Telling everyone you’re planning to go to law school in Chicago? Smart move. You didn’t flinch, Taryn. Not once. I saw it—and so did they. That’s what it means to be tough, even when they all expect you not to be. You’re still the same person, beauty. The girl who takes what she wants. That hasn’t changed.” I know that’s her fear, and it may be too soon, but I want to address it head on.
She swallows hard, the laughter fading to shaky silence.
“I’ll make this work,” I promise, the words coming out rough but certain. “For you. For us. You’ll see. Trust me a little longer, yeah?”
She blinks at me, her breath catching like she’s trying to steady herself. “I don’t know if Icantrust anyone right now,” she whispers, voice soft but edged with truth. “But I want to trust you, Liam. I really want to.”
I lean in a little, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath. “Then trust what you’ve already seen in me,” I murmur. “I’m not letting you fall. Not now, not ever.”
Her lips part, like she wants to argue but can’t quite find the words. My hand slides from her jaw to the back of her neck, my thumb brushing the soft curve of her hairline.
“We’re in this together now,” I tell her, my voice low, steady. “No one else matters. Not your father. Not mine. Just us.”
Something shifts in her expression, some mix of fear, disbelief, and…maybe the tiniest flicker of relief. Like shedoeswant to believe me. Like maybe part of her already does.
She exhales, a shaky sound that hits me straight in the chest, and I pull her into me. She doesn’t resist, just melts against me, her hands gripping my shirt like I’m the only solid thing she has left. And damn if that doesn’t do something to me. To be needed. Trusted.
I hold her tighter, and something shifts in my chest. Because, I know I’m right. It’s just me and her now, holding each other together. And hell if I’ll let anyone take that from us. Anyone who tries—Greek, Irish, or otherwise—will find out just how far I’ll go. I’ll burn every alliance, every man, and every dollar to ash if it means keeping her safe. She’s my line in the sand now. And God help the man who thinks he can cross it.
TARYN
I step into Rowan O’Toole’s townhouse—my new home—in a daze. There are boxes stacked against the walls, my things shoved into corners just waiting to be put away. The place is the polar opposite of my old campus home. No bright pink or dark purple walls. No mismatched surrealist paintings. No hodgepodge of clashing colors that scream personality.
Rowan’s place is all muted grays, leather furniture, and clean lines—like someone opened a catalog and clicked “add to cart” on the bachelor pad starter kit. It’s sleek. Minimal. A little cold. But somehow, that’s easier to take in than the chaos of what I’ve just left behind.
I recognize Stephanie’s Boggeta Veneta overnight bag sitting on the coffee table, a folded note taped to the top. My chest tightens when I see her loopy handwriting. I pull it free and read:
Hey, badass. I packed what you’ll need for tonight in this bag—clothes, toiletries, your favorite lotion, and your notebook. We tried to label all the other boxes. Your laptop and backpack are inside the office door. I know this is insane, but you’re tougher than all of them put together. When you’re ready to talk, I’m here. Always. And for what it’s worth, Liam’s a good guy. Maybe the overprotective and unhinged kind of good, but still good. You can make this work. Love you.
I press the note to my chest, breathing in through my nose to keep from crying again. God, I needed this reminder.
I drop the bag and take a breath. Shake it off. I need to get on with life. There’s no point wallowing. This is my reality now: Liam. This townhouse. This marriage. I’ll make it work. I’ll unpack, get my bearings, and then I’ll apply to UChicago Law like I just informed everyone I would. One step at a time. I can do this. Iwilldo this. Compartmentalize. Keep moving forward. Create the future I want. So what if I have a husband now?
My God. I have a husband now. I need to breathe. Just breathe. I refuse to fall apart again.
I wander down the short hallway to see a room converted to an office. I pull out my backpack, which is exactly where Stephanie said it would be, and reach for the phone charger. I plug in my dead phone and notice all my missed messages. Gráinne. Elizabeth. Steph. I’ve even got one from my sister, Neve: a meme about dark nights and bright dawns. All encouraging. All trying their best to reassure me with texts I missed before my wedding. However, one message stops me in my tracks:
Liam: I know this isn’t the life you dreamed of, beauty. Hell, it’s not how I imagined things unfolding either. But you’re not alone in this. Remember, we’ll make this marriage ours…whatever we want it to be. I’ll make things good for you, I promise. No one will hurt you again. (Or, I’ll enjoy making them regret it.). See you at the courthouse, but call me if you need me. I’ll be there.
My breath catches halfway through the message, and by the time I reach the last line, my chest feels too tight, like I can’t quite breathe. It’s not what he’s saying—it’s the way he says it. Certain. Unapologetic. Like the world can fall apart and Liam McGuiness will still stand between me and the wreckage. Like everything is just fine. Dear Lord.Whyis he this way? Promising forever to a girl he barely knows. Making threats with a winking emoji. The rest of the world would think Liam was joking. I know better now.
I sink onto the office chair, my phone trembling slightly in my hand. It’s terrifying, the kind of promise he’s making. Terrifying because I believe him.
I steady myself before wandering back into the hall. There’s a TV room, and then, the one bedroom. It’s apparently our new bedroom, and my eyes take in the massive dresser and open closet door, which is already full of my clothes. As I’m halfway inside the room, I stop when it hits me.
Of course there’s only one bed. In the entire house.
A laugh slips out, a little manic. “This is…what? A cheesy romance novel?” I mutter under my breath. “Next, he’ll insist I take the bed while he gallantly sleeps on the couch. Or, maybe we can build a pillow wall.”
But before I can enjoy that mental image, Liam steps into the doorway behind me. He doesn’t look at the bed. He looks at me.
“Thatwon’t be happening,” he says, his voice friendly but with a hint of challenge. “You’ll always sleep beside me, Taryn.”
